Page 20 of Slow Kind of Love

“That was…” His voice was rough.

“Yeah,” she replied softly. Two weeks after she’d met him, they’d been tested, and with zero chance for Elise to get pregnant on account of a tubal ligation she’d told him to toss the condoms. The sex only got better, and today was a reminder of everything she’d given up.

He got his clothes in order, while she still sat sprawled on the edge of the work counter, her legs still open, her very core exposed to him. Link came back from the bathroom and gently cleaned between her legs before helping her down and pulling up her jeans so she could clasp them.

Once she was dressed, she chanced a look up and licked her suddenly dry lips.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” he said, grabbing at a strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear. “And after the last time we were together, I didn’t think it was possible.”

Elise was silent for a few seconds. She could play this one of two ways. She could act as if this was just a hookup. That it didn’t mean much beyond the act of screwing a guy. Or she could be honest and lay herself bare.

“It was more than sex,” she finally admitted, exhaling slowly, keeping her gaze on the floor because she was afraid to look up again. “More than a need to connect. It was just…”

“More,” he finished.

A heartbeat passed, and a shot of fear hit her in the gut. This so wasn’t on the calendar when she’d woken up today. Link was a complication.

But he was also an addiction.

“We should go,” she said, stepping back. “Before anyone misses us.”

“We still need to have a conversation,” Link replied, a hint of a smile touching the corners of his mouth. Had it always been that full and sensual?

Elise said nothing and turned toward the door. She pushed it open, taking in the cold fresh air as she stepped outside. Something had just shifted for her. Something kind of wonderful. And scary. Some part of her being that up until now had remained untouched.

“Hold up,” Link said. She turned, a half smile on her face. If she were home, she’d stretch out like the Cheshire cat and purr like she’d been properly satisfied. Which she had.

God, in Poppy’s stockroom.

He reached forward and plucked something from her hair, something shiny and purple.

“Must have come off one of Poppy’s Easter decorations,” he said slowly. The sun was high, and though the temperature was hovering around the freezing mark, in here between the shadows of Poppy’s building and the one next door, it was cold. She could see his breath fall in small puffs when he spoke.

Yet she was hot and her skin tingled. How was she going to hide what had happened? How could she walk over to the park and not look like she’d been thoroughly fu—

“Are you cold?” His voice was low. Intimate.

“Not at all.”

“You’re shivering.”

“Not from the cold.”

“Where do we go from here?” He was serious. Made no effort to hide how he felt. She wondered about that for a moment. What was so different about men his age? He had no problem expressing himself. Boone was the same.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I’m not sure what I want. This life I’ve fallen into is so different from what I’m used to. Ben was…” She exhaled and looked away, closing her eyes as an image of her late husband came to mind. Boone was the spitting image of his father, and yet they were nothing alike. “Ben was difficult, and I felt trapped for most of my marriage. He controlled our finances, and for most of our years together, he controlled me. He’s gone now, and I grieved him in my own way, but not the way a wife who loves her husband should. I think I grieved what we never had, if that makes sense. But now I have this freedom, and sometimes, I’m at a loss. Ironically, because of Ben’s life insurance and investments, I have the means to live the way I want to. I thought I’d be happy to live my life in this small town, slowly spreading my wings and trying new things.”

“Like me?” His eyebrows shot up, and she couldn’t hide her smile.

“Like salsa dancing or hot yoga. Like leaving the light on in kitchen at night and not being afraid of being dragged from my bed by an enraged man because of it. Or having breakfast for supper and staying up until two in the morning watching rom-coms. Like welcoming my son back and knowing he’s staying because his father isn’t here to make him leave.” She shrugged. “I thought that would be enough. I didn’t see you happening, Link.”

“But we did happen.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“It’s just so fast,” she confessed, walking toward the sun and the walkway in front of Poppy’s store. “It scares me.”

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