Page 191 of Slow Dance


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If she thought too much about the last fourteen years, she’d cry. She was already crying. She cried a lot during sex. Ryan never minded; he approved of public displays of emotion.

Cary kept her on her back. He kept leaning over her to kiss hercheeks and her forehead. He kept grinding his pubic bone against her clitoris. She kept nodding at him. It was almost enough. It was enough to make her reach for his face and tell him over and over that she loved him. He made her sloppy.

Cary finished inside of her, and she could tell because he closed his eyes tight and groaned. Because she could feel him pulsing. Because his head dropped like she’d snapped his neck.

He drew his hips away and fell to Shiloh’s side, immediately pushing his right hand into the mess of her.

He looked groggy. She wanted to kiss him while he looked like that. She did. His mouth was warm and loose. He pushed his tongue past her lips and rubbed her teeth. He rubbed her clit. When she flinched, he rubbed her a different way. She was close—but close was relative.

“This could take forever,” Shiloh whispered.

“I’ve got fifteen days,” he said.

She laughed. She closed her eyes. “I love you so much, Cary.”

“I love you, too, Shiloh.”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve said it.”

“I’ve said it more than that.”

“No, you haven’t.”

He kissed her neck. He shifted to get more comfortable. “I’ll say it more.”

“You should say everything more. I love your voice.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. She tilted her hips back.

“Is that good?” he asked.

Shiloh nodded. “You do such good accents.”

He laughed. “Do you want me to do accents in bed?”

“No. I’m just saying... I was just thinking...” She stretched out her neck. “That’s nice.”

“Like this?” He kept rubbing her.

“Yes.”

“I like your voice, too, Shiloh.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to call me when I go back?”

“Yes.” She was breathing hard. “I’ll call you.Cary, that’s good.”

“I missed you so much—I love you.”

“Cary, don’t you like breasts?”

“What?” He lifted his head up, but he didn’t miss a beat.

“You haven’t touched my breasts at all.”