“I made you dinner if you want some.”
He paused. “You did?”
“Yeah. How do hamburgers and fries sound? I made some for Tilly and had a hankering for some myself.” She glanced down at his chin and said, “But I mean, don’t feel like you have to stay or anything. I know you’ve got to be tired. It’s late.” It had passed seven. “And just because we slept together doesn’t mean you owe me any—”
He hugged her, finding it easier to speak if she didn’t look at him. “I wanted to call and text and tell you how I couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday. Then I thought you’d think I only wanted sex, so I waited for you to text me. And I had to work with the Jackson brothers all day, and they’re so fucking pleasant it’s annoying. But then they said I was being too happy, and all because of you, I might add. The move wasn’t so bad after all, but I got home to a bitch of a message from Meg.” He sighed and drew in Erin’s scent, needing the peace she brought. “I hate her, Erin.”She takes away all the good in my life and reminds me exactly how shitty I am.“I was in such a good mood today. Then a call from her, and I’m right back into feeling like a loser.”
She burrowed closer, and he never wanted to leave the warmth of her arms. How had he gone from being the protector to needing protection?
Erin drew him down for another kiss, and he took it. But it wasn’t enough. He had to get closer, to show her what he felt, even if he didn’t understand it yet.
Smith heard the hitch in her breath, felt the familiar tingle of lust and affection. Without asking, without questioning, he gave them both what they needed. He pulled back to scoot her jeans off, staring into her eyes the whole time.
She bit her lower lip but said nothing and helped him removed her panties as well. Then she unsnapped his jeans and reached inside for him.
Her touch rocked him back, and he came to that place where nothing mattered but Erin. No shitty mother, no miserable childhood, no remembrances of being discarded and unloved. He pushed down his clothes and let her draw him closer. Into her wet heat.
“Yes, more,” she breathed and kissed him.
He kissed her back and pumped inside her, needing the respite of desire and care, if only temporarily, to heal that part of him that always bled when he thought of Margaret.
Reaching between them, he teased Erin, wanting her there with him when he came. Because it wouldn’t take long. He fucked her with his mind and body, claiming her for himself, because she couldn’t know how she affected him.
Two people in one place at one time, together, and she gave him everything, even if she didn’t know it. Only after she’d cried out did he let himself pour into her, loving the mess he made, the claim that she belonged to him, in this moment.
Then he made the mistake of looking down at her and seeing in her eyes a possibility for a future he didn’t deserve.
Erin hadn’t intendedto jump Smith the moment he got home. She’d missed him fiercely, so much so that Tilly had asked if she might be sick earlier. So, Erin had lied, claiming to be a little homesick.
She worried that she’d fallen too fast for Smith. Their amazing sex was one thing. Tender feelings for him because they’d made love was another.
After hearing about his day though, and how he’d thought about her but, like her, didn’t want to seem too clingy, she wanted only to make him feel better.
God, how did he do this to her? Destroy her so that the sex evolved into affection, and one step closer to that dreaded L-O-V-E that had ended her life in Kansas?
“Damn, Erin. You feel so good.” He moaned her name and pumped a few more times before withdrawing.
But of course he couldn’t just wham-bam-I’m-out-of-here. He had to clean her then himself and tease them both about being quick on the draw while helping her prepare dinner.
He didn’t make fun of her for having so little in her apartment. Nor did he try to take charge of the evening and be “the man,” the way Cody used to. He asked her questions about her day and deflected more inquiries into his.
And he showed real interest in her editing job and her desire to restart her cooking channel.
“You need to film yourself making burgers. Holy shit, these are amazing.”
Erin loved his compliments. Especially because they seemed so honest. The man was as likely to tell her she looked witchy as he was that she cooked amazing burgers.
“I’m washing dishes.” He stood and collected their plates. Not that she’d ever argue over dishes—she loathed them—but that he offered without being asked meant a lot. Cody had taken for granted she’d assume the “woman’s work.” At first Erin hadn’t minded. But her life soon revolved around Cody. His wants, his needs, his city far away from her.
She sighed.
“What’s that about?”
She decided to be honest. “Cody.” She though he stiffened but couldn’t be sure.
His voice remained even when he asked, “You miss him?”
“Like the plague,” she said drily.
