Some Sort of Crazy (Happy Crazy Love, #2)

He brought his mouth to mine and I greedily sucked his tongue into my mouth. Faster and faster he drove into me, his cock grinding against my clit, until the world turned silver and started to hum.

No longer caring about my head banging the door, I grabbed his ass and pulled him into me, rocking my hips beneath him. He buried his head in my neck as he came, his body going still as his cock pulsed inside me, and my body answered in kind, contracting around him over and over again in blissful harmony.

When his body had gone still, I held him close to me, stroking his back, his hair, his neck.

“God, I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.” Still breathing hard, he picked his head up and looked down at me quizzically. “What the fuck is that about?”

I smiled, but a pang of longing shot through me. I’ll miss you too. “No, you won’t. You’ll have some other girl on your couch as soon as you’re back.”

He tipped his head to one side, like he was thinking about it. “Probably. But I’ll still miss you.”

I rolled my eyes to cover up how hurt I was before squirming out from beneath him. “I better go shower. We’ll be late for dinner.”

He let me go.





Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that to her.

After Natalie went upstairs to get in the shower, I pulled on my jeans and sat on the couch with my head in my hands, trying to regain my sense of balance, figure out which way was up. I knew I’d hurt her feelings just now, I’d seen it in her eyes, but fuck! She had me all out of whack. The entire day had been perfect, from the wake-up sex to the breakfast to the nap to the walk in the rain to the floor sex. Too perfect. So perfect I was off my game. She was making me FEEL things, and I was not OK with that.

For example, I felt like I didn’t care if I never had another girl on my couch if only I could have her forever.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

And I felt like I’d never get enough of her body, her face, her brain, her voice, her laugh, her cinnamon buns.

HER FUCKING CINNAMON BUNS.

I felt like I was ready to give up anything I had to in order to have a chance with her—and it wouldn’t even be a sacrifice.

I felt like I wanted her. Like I needed her.

Like I loved her.

I WAS MESSED THE FUCK UP!

As if I’d been caught doing something wrong, I jumped to my feet and paced in front of the couch. Now what was I supposed to do? I had no experience with Feelings. What if she didn’t feel the same way? And why should she? My timing sucked fucking hairy balls—she was just getting out of a relationship. And I’d told her she was too serious all the time and needed to just relax and have some fun. I fisted my hands in my hair. Why the fuck had I done that?

Because you were right. She does need time off from a relationship. She does need to have fun. What she doesn’t need is another guy telling her he loves her right away, putting pressure on her. Especially a guy like you who doesn’t want any of the same things she does in life. So slow the fuck down.

It was true. As much as I cared for Natalie, I wasn’t ready to promise that I’d be up for the role of homeowner, husband, and father. And she wanted that. She deserved that.

I’d only disappoint her.

I heard the water go off upstairs, and I knew I had to go get ready for dinner or we’d be late. I scooped up the rest of my clothes and headed upstairs, reaching my room just as she opened the bathroom door.

Something gripped me hard at the sight of her standing there in a towel, hair dripping, face flushed, skin damp. My stomach knotted, my throat went dry, my hands flexed.

Oh, Jesus.

I couldn’t speak. I felt sort of sick to my stomach, too. And my chest—what the hell was going on in there? Was it love or cardiac arrest? Fucking hell, did people actually like this feeling? It was horrible!

I was going to die.





The look on his face was one I’d never seen before, somewhere between shocked and nauseated.

“You OK?” I asked, holding the towel tightly around me as I walked toward him. I’d spent the last ten minutes feeling kind of aggravated with him, but he really did look bad.

“Uh. No. Yes.” He swallowed hard. “Maybe.”

“We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.”

“I’m fine.” Now he just looked frightened. “I want to go out.”

“OK.” He didn’t look fine at all. Had I done something wrong?

He went into the bathroom without another word, shutting the door behind him.

What the hell? I threw my hands up. I get that you don’t do relationships, but could you please do civilized, if not friendly?

Men.

Seriously, why did women even bother?

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