Her lips parted, her head took his hand with it as it turned slightly to the side, tipped slightly back, and the mewling rush of audible breath slipped out of her as she came.
He forced her head farther to the side, ran the edge of his teeth down the line of her neck and then rooted himself in her, sinking his teeth into the soft skin between neck and shoulder, her perfume filling his nostrils, his groan deep and long, his orgasm un-fucking-believably tremendous.
It took until he’d mostly recovered before the feel of her penetrated.
She still had a hold on him, she hadn’t moved, but her intimate embrace felt somehow slack even as her body, which should be loose and soft under him, seemed braced.
He lifted his head and looked down at her.
Her eyes were open and her head was still turned to the side, but she seemed to be staring at nothing and not just because of the dark.
His fingers were still wrapped around her jaw so he used them to right her and bring her focus to him.
“You doin’ okay?” he asked gently.
“Yeah,” she murmured, lying right under him, but still removed.
“Greta—”
“That wasn’t smart.”
Hix traced her jaw with his thumb. “Maybe not, sweetheart, but it was good.”
“Yeah,” she agreed quietly but not convincingly.
“It wasn’t good?” he asked.
“It was good, Hixon, but—”
He moved his thumb from her jaw to rub it along her lips.
“How about, when I’m still inside you, we not talk about how stupid that was and just be good with how good it was?”
“Okay,” she mumbled.
She gave him that easy, he pressed his advantage. “And how about, I’m no longer inside you, we still don’t focus on how stupid that was?”
She pulled in a deep breath and let it go.
He dipped closer to her and kept hold of her jaw. “We’re allowed to do this, Greta. And we’re allowed to feel how good it is.”
“So when we talked earlier, when you said you wanted to be friends, what you meant was friends with benefits?”
Stung she’d even think that, much less say it, he lifted away and slid his hand from her jaw.
“No, that wasn’t what I meant.”
She made no reply.
He looked above her head and muttered, “Apparently I do like it complicated.”
“It would seem that way.”
He looked back down at her. “It’s too soon.”
“You’ve said that already.”
“I’m not in a place where I can know for sure I’d do right by you.”
“You’ve pretty much said that too.”
“But I’ve never had better.”
He heard her swift, stunned gasp.
“And you make me feel good in a lot of ways, including feeling good about bein’ me, and I don’t mean I feel that just from sleeping with you.”
He felt the colossal shift in her mood even as he heard it in her whispered, “You don’t feel good about you?”
“Sweetheart.”
He said no more, not about to inflict a conversation that included mentioning his ex-wife on her while he was still semi-hard and inside her.
“Okay,” she said quickly. “We’ll not go there.”
“Thanks,” he murmured.
“But, uh . . . Hix, you’re hot.”
That made him grin as he repeated, “Thanks.”
“No . . . like, really.”
Shit, he was going to start laughing.
“Like I said, thanks.”
“No,” she repeated, lifted her hips slightly and stated, low, firm and hot, “like . . . really.”
He couldn’t help it, his body started shaking.
She kept talking.
“I mean, baby, you lifted me up and planted—”
“I was there.”
“That was hot.”
His body kept shaking. “I know, I was there.”
“I have no idea how you got me upstairs, me walking backwards, the whole time kissing me and taking my dress off me,” she declared. “That only happens in movies, and they have choreographers for that kind of thing.”
His laughter became audible with his chuckling.
“Though,” she carried on, “you know, there are other things that are good about you, not just how hot you are appearance-wise and how good you are in bed. I’m just not in the position to point them out seeing as my mind is still a little scrambled from the huge, honkin’ orgasm you just gave me.”
He kissed her quick and murmured, “Shut up, Greta.”
All of a sudden, both her hands were framing his face.
And just as sudden, her voice had changed when she shared, “I get where you’re at. And part of that is understanding you’re trying to protect me. That means something to me, Hixon. A big something. So this time, we both know what this is. And it was good. We have that again with a far less confusing ending. Now it was what it was, life is what it is, and we’re still friends. Right?”
Jesus.
Was she for real?
He sure as hell wasn’t going to ask that question and get the wrong answer.
He was going to take what she gave him.
“Right, baby,” he whispered.
She ran her thumbs along his cheekbones and noted, “You probably need to get back to your kids.”
“I do. I’m sorry, Greta. I wouldn’t—”
“Hix, shh,” she shushed, one of her thumbs moving to his lips. “I get that too.”
She was for real.
Real and sweet and everything he needed right then, willing to take it and give it and not expect anything in return.
“Move your thumb,” he ordered against it.
She complied.
He dipped down and kissed her.
He continued to do it as he pulled out but ended it by lifting up and pressing his lips against her forehead.
With his lips still there, he asked, “What do I say right now to make you know how fuckin’ great you are?”
“I think . . . that,” she answered quietly, her arms she’d slid around him during their kiss giving him a squeeze.
He looked down on her. “Got a robe?”
He heard her hair move on the pillow with her nod.
“Where?” he asked.
“Hook on the back of the door to the bathroom.”
“Stay here,” he commanded.
“Okeydokey, smokey.”
He was again chuckling when he rolled off of her, taking the corner of her comforter and throwing it over her when he got to his feet on the side of the bed.
He hitched up his pants, made his way to a door that was open, blackness inside, and found when he hit it that he’d guessed correctly. It was the bathroom.
He got used to the shadows, did what he had to do, fully righted his trousers, grabbed the robe and walked back out to her.
He bent over her when he got to her and hooked her around the waist.
Her hands flew to him as he lifted her out of bed and put her on her feet.
He handed her the robe.
She shrugged it on and took off her shoes while he found his things and got dressed.
Then he grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the room, holding it all the way to her kitchen door.
“Don’t care there’s no crime in this town, Greta, lock this behind me.”
“Ten-four, good buddy.”
He busted out laughing, hooking her waist again with his arm and pulling her to him for a kiss.
When he ended it, he lifted away just an inch and said, “You’re really fuckin’ great, Greta.”
“Thanks, Hix. You are too.”