My spine stiffens. "Don't call me that," I snap, my voice firm, unwavering. "I'm not that little girl anymore."
His grip loosens slightly, his head tilting as he studies me. Then, quietly, like it’s a truth he’s always known, he murmurs, "I know you’re not. You’re all woman now." His thumb brushes over the inside of my wrist, slow, reverent. "But I’ve loved every version of you."
Heat floods through me, curling in my stomach, spreading like wildfire beneath my skin.
Because I like the way he says it—like he sees every piece of me, every version I’ve been and ever will be.
And I like that he loved me even at my weakest.
I like that I know he still does.
He leans his face lower to my lips as if he's considering kissing me then moves them to my neck instead and nips at my ear. "Tell me why you didn’t respond to my text message last night and then went on that date with him."
His fingers move to the hem of my short dress, slipping underneath as they work their way up my thigh. My heart races, not finding the words to answer him as he finds my underwear and then roughly shoves it aside before slipping one finger inside, pumping slowly. I let out a moan, feeling the way that he hooks his long, guitar playing fingers, finding my most sensitive spot and rubbing it gently. His other hand guides me back towards the front door behind us as he holds me in place possessively.
"I... I..."
Every other hookup I’ve had required abuild—a long, slow climb before I could eventhinkabout letting go. It’s why I usually prefer the ease andefficiencyof my vibrators. Less effort. Less disappointment.
But with Cody?
All it takes is theslightestbrush of his fingers against my clit, and my entire body betrays me—legs shaking, nipples tightening,head swimming in a dizzy haze of need.
A second finger slides inside me, stretching me just right, and my body clenches around him like itremembers. Like no time has passed at all.
It’s always been like this with him.
His touch undoes me.
And suddenly, I’mheragain—the girl who fell for the cowboy who knew my body like it was his own.
"Why do you care?" I sigh, my fingers tangling in his hair as I wrap my arms around his neck, desperate for something to hold onto.
His only answer is his mouth on mine, firm and claiming, like he’s been starving for this.
And when he pumps his fingers harder, his thumb circling my clit with expert precision, I’m gone. Completely lost to him and the moment.
“Because I spent a night inside of this cunt, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Because having you again, Mae,” he cusses, his head tilting back as he rocks his pelvis forward against me. I can feel how hard he is, how turned on he is by this and that only turns me on more. I moan as he groans, his lips falling to my neck, “it’s too fucking good,” he finishes.
"Cody," I sigh, my voice breaking as he mercilessly teases my clit. The pressure builds fast, spiraling higher, and then suddenly, without any warning, I'm coming. My body slumps back against the door for support, my legs tremble, but he holds me effortlessly, his grip firm and possessive. His fingers don’t relent, pushing me from one orgasm to another peak before he finally withdraws his hand, leaving me gasping and completely wrecked.
Without a word, he scoops me up, carrying me to the bedroom with ease. He lays me down, his eyes locked onto mine as hestrips off his shirt, revealing tanned, sculpted muscle, the kind that makes my breathing slow. He pushes his jeans down, his cock already thick and straining against the fabric. He sheaths himself quickly, adjusting the condom to be sure that it’s on tightly, his fingers tightening at the tip like he’s forcing himself to hold back and not come too fast.
"Tell me why you went on a date with someone other than me tonight," he demands, his voice dark, edged with something almost dangerous.
My pulse pounds in my ears. "I went... I went because if I didn’t, then that would mean what we had the other night meant something more than just sex." The words spill out, uneven, as I watch him grip himself tighter. He’s so thick, so long. No one has ever compared to him since. The tip of him is the most perfectly round head I’ve ever seen. I wet my lips, wondering how it’d feel to taste him again. How it’d feel to grip his thighs as I take him down the back of my throat and swallow.
He stills, his brows knitting together as if weighing my words, trying to decide what they mean for him—what they mean forus.
“Mae,” he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, “it was more than sex for me. It’s always been more than sex with you. What we shared when we were kids connected us in a way that I’ve never felt with anyone else.”
My heart stutters. Can it really be more? Can we really pick up where we left off at nineteen, as if years haven’t passed? As if nothing has changed?
"I want to feel you. All of you again. Are you on birth control?" he asks, his tone softer now, eyes searching mine.
I nod.
"I've been tested recently. I’m clean. Do you trust me?" he asks.
