The bed rocked so hard the headboard smacked the wall.
Amelie wrapped her legs around him and pressed her heels into his ass. “Faster, soldier,” she gasped. “So damned...close. Yes. Oh, yes. There!”
Tension stretched his muscles tight as energy built, expanded and finally shot him over the edge. He plunged once...twice. On the third thrust, he sank deep, held steady and surfed the waves of his orgasm all the way to the last throb, the last vibration of his cock.
Amelie’s feet dropped to the mattress, her knees splaying to the sides, her body going limp.
Maurice lowered himself onto her, lying skin to skin, their bodies hot and slick with sweat.
Concerned he was crushing her, he rolled with her onto their sides and held her close, not ready to sever their intimate connection.
After a while, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Are you okay?”
“Mmmm,” she hummed. “Better than okay. You?”
He closed his eyes and smiled. “I swear I died and went all the way to heaven.”
Amelie chuckled. “Welcome back.” She nestled her cheek into his chest and sighed. “And don’t worry... I’m not a clinger.”
Maurice frowned. “Clinger?”
“One of those clingy women who thinks that sex means commitment. If you walk out that door tonight, I won’t chase after you or ask why you didn’t call. It’s just sex.”
With her warm curves pressed against his body, his cock still rooted inside her, Maurice couldn’t comprehend her words.
Just sex?
Oh, fuck no.
Then what was it?
And was he ready to do anything about it?
He lay still for a long moment without responding, his thoughts pinging through his brain’s synapses like rogue balls in a pinball machine.
One thought emerged from the chaos.
He wanted to make love to her again. And no—it was not just sex.
Chapter 9
Amelie dragged herself out of bed at three-thirty the next morning, foggy-eyed and sore in all the right places. She didn’t regret the loss of sleep, only that the night hadn’t been longer and she’d promised the Broussards she’d bring fresh bread and pastries to sell in their store. Big mistake.
Note to self. Monday is your day off. Make no promises for your day off.
They’d gone for round two after hamburgers and yogurt and a desperate search for another condom. Maurice found one buried deep in his wallet behind an emergency one-hundred-dollar bill. If he’d had more condoms, not hundreds, they’d have kept going all the way until time for her to get up and get to work.
After gathering her clothes, Amelie tiptoed into the bathroom and eased the door closed. Only then did she turn on the light and risk a glance at herself in the mirror.
Her dark hair stood out at all angles in glorious tangles. Her neck sported a red beard rash from Maurice’s five-o’clock shadow, and she looked like she’d had fillers injected in her lips because they were so swollen from kissing that gorgeous man lying naked in her bed.
She raised her fingers to her lips and stared at the woman in the reflection, wondering who she was with the radiant glow of a woman who’d experienced the best sex of her entire life.
She had to remind herself to enjoy it while it lasted. After all, it was just sex.
No strings besides those on her bikini panties and none of that C-word... Commitment.
It was hard enough to find a man who wanted a forever partner. Amelie wasn’t even sure how one would compete with a ghost to secure Maurice’s affection.
