Page 60 of Healing the Heart

“Yes,” he stroked me, teasing my swollen clit as I squirmed against his attentive fingers. I could feel his hot cock on my backside, but he kept himself away so his fingers could continue to play. He dipped into my passage and slipped his slick fingers inside me. “And if I see anyone else on it, I am cracking skulls.”

“Enough.” I grabbed his hip.

“What did I say about patience?” He bit my ear.

“You’re horrible.” My body was undulating under his while I squirmed with the pleasure I had, anticipating the pleasure I could be feeling.

His lips coasted over my shoulder while I let his clothed cock notch at my opening and slowly but steadily fill me with his thick, throbbing length. I reached up, slid my hands into his hair, and held on as he grabbed my hips, holding me.

I gripped the sheets with my free hand as he took me deep and hard. Our bodies grew slick with sweat, moving and grinding against each other. His deep rumble and groans vibrated through the bed and me as we fucked each other.

John’s pace bordered on the hard and rough, our skin-on-skin contact like a match on a striker, the sounds and smell of sex filling the room. My blood heated to a boil, and while my head swam, I heard him grunt, drilling my body harder and harder.

Possessed with chasing that scintillating high, I was panting, grabbing, rolling my hips, trying to get him deeper inside me, wanting him,needinghim. My body started to pulse and tightened around his shuttling cock. I felt him reach over my hip to stroke my clit.

“Come on my cock, Rayna.”

I felt the world set itself on fire as pleasure raced up my spine and my world splintered around me. I screamed, trembled, clenched, and unclenched. I felt and heard John let go and roar, gripping my ass and pulsing inside me.

After a long moment, trapped in suspension, I sagged to the pillow and felt John drop small kisses on my overheated cheek and shoulder. His hand held my hip as he slowly pulled out of me and went to take care of the condom.

He was gone for probably two minutes, but it felt like two years. I wanted him back, sex-smelled, sweaty skin and all. The errant thought that I may be getting more attached than the situation called for—God forbid being codependent—sprung up in my mind, but I brushed it away.

“It’s just great sex,” I murmured to myself. “That’s all it is.”

If only I had believed the lie I was telling myself.

John came back into the bed and pulled me to his side. “Do you want to shower?”

“No,” I nuzzled into his warmth. “I just want to stay here, surrounded by you.”

His arm snaked around my shoulder. “You want to cuddle up with a hot, sweaty man.”

“Biology,” I murmured. “Let me suck in the pheromones.”

John laughed hard enough to give me a flash of his unseen-before dimples, his baritone right and warm. “Okay. I see where this is going.”

“As long as it has you not going anywhere,” I felt sleep overtaking me. “I’m fine with that.”

Soon enough, I was dead to the world.

ChapterTwenty-One

John

Ihated leaving Rayna in bed, but I had to go home. Detective Juliann had prewarned me that the lab had the results of the contents from the trough, and I had to go examine them. Then, I had to prepare for the town fair and the daddy-daughter dance and review the specs Twister Twines had sent over with their finalized contract.

After debating with myself for ten minutes, I pulled myself together and slipped out of bed. Rayna looked so innocent, so vulnerable, sleeping there, with her hair tossed on the pillow and her long lashes swept her cheek. Her lips were parted, and the bottom one was still kiss-swollen, and I wanted to kiss her—but refrained.

Emotions I had not expected—and could not afford to feel either—assaulted my heart like a sledgehammer. In weeks I’d tapped a tender well of emotion I had not counted on. Fuck, what was I going to do? I’d crossed so many lines with her that the whole situation was a blur of emotion.

Unable to stop myself, I stroked her hair, and Rayna leaned into my touch like a kitten seeking the sun. A surge of emotion emerged in my chest again, warm and prickly.

Moving away, I went to her kitchen, and as a paltry gift, I got her coffee maker on, scrambled up some eggs with all the fixings, and had bagels toasting away. Slipping the plate into the warmer on her stove, I ducked my head into the room to check on her, then spotted her lipstick on the table.

Grinning, I uncapped it—bold red, my favorite—and scribbled a note on her mirror, then ducked out, closing the door behind me.

“Now, Detective,” I said while driving away. “What do you have for me?”

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