Her eyes flutter closed and her eyebrows pull together. The whimper that escapes her as her orgasm hits is the most addictive sound I have ever heard in my life.
Her pussy tightens, which I would never have thought possible—and although her hips keep moving, my dick can barely move. Between that and the warm rush of her orgasm, I lose it and come harder than I ever have in my life. I pull her into me, holding her tightly to my torso, and press my face to her neck and let out a sound even I can’t describe.
As she slows her hips to a stop, I feel her thighs trembling. I hold her even tighter and I can feel her pulse hammering in her neck under my lips. We stay like that, motionless and wordless, until we both regain our senses. Finally she takes a deep, cleansing breath and runs her hands seductively over my head, ruffling my hair.
“Well, that was worth the wait,” she decides in a low, satisfied voice.
I smile. “Definitely.”
She carefully lifts herself off me. I slide over on the couch and she drops down beside me, flopping back in exhaustion.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmur and kiss her cheek.
She smiles sleepily as I tuck myself back into my pants and get up off the couch to head for the bathroom to dispose of the condom.
In the bathroom I clean up and catch my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed and my lips are swollen. My eyes are light and bright. You would never know I had been broken and crying a little over twelve hours ago while looking up divorce lawyers. Even more shocking is that not only do I not look like that Devin Garrison, I don’t feel like the Devin Garrison who was broken anymore, either. I smile at my reflection and head back to Callie.
She’s exactly the way she was before we reenacted the barn moment. Stretched out on the couch, arms above her head, hair feathered across the pillow—only this time, she’s fast asleep.
I don’t want to leave her down here. This wicker couch is only a two-seater; she will wake up tomorrow with aches and pains. I bend down and scoop her up into my arms.
When I get upstairs, I hesitate in front of the guest room she’s been using. I don’t want to put her to bed in there. I want her with me—in my bed. So I walk past her room and push open the door to mine with my foot.
I lay her down on the side I usually sleep on because the sheets are already tossed back from when I got up this morning. She curls onto her side immediately and lets out a big breath. I pull the duvet up over her.
I walk around to the other side of the bed and get undressed. I slip under the sheets beside her and curl myself into her back. My arms circle her waist and I let the smell of her spicy citrus perfume and the feel of her warm body lull me into a blissful sleep.
Chapter 31
Callie
When I wake, I feel like I am coming out of a coma. I had been in such a deep, glorious sleep. I have no idea what time it is or where I am, but I don’t care. Life is good. Great. Amazing. I have a total feeling of euphoria—but I have no idea why.
I stretch like a cat and smile into my pillow. It smells amazing—why does it smell so good? What is that? I inhale again, turning my face into it. It smells like the ocean and mint and…what is that familiar elixir?
Devin.
It smells like that heady mix of cologne, deodorant and hair product that makes up Devin Garrison. My eyes open. The room is still relatively dark; just a little bit of morning dawn is sneaking through the California shutters that are three-quarters closed.
I’m in Devin’s bedroom. In Devin’s bed. I roll over quickly but lightly. I’m in Devin’s bedroom. In Devin’s bed.WITH Devin!
My heart starts to hammer its way out of my chest as I go from euphoria to panic in a millisecond. He’s dead asleep on his back, one hand over his head, the other across his exposed midsection. He’s shoved the covers down to his waist and that sexy cut of muscle by his hip and the thick trail of hair that starts at his belly button and leads to the promised land.
I scurry as quickly and lightly as possible out from under the covers. As soon as I stand up, my head starts to reel—from the panic and the bucket of Champagne I consumed last night. I bolt for the door and slip across the hall and into my room. I toss myself face-first onto the bed and run through the night before.
The party was good—and kind of fun. Devin was amazing—smiling and chatting and charming the pants off every person in the room. He looked devastatingly handsome too in his light gray suit, crisp white shirt and blue-and-gray silk tie. As I started to drink more free Champagne and eat fewer free appetizers, I got tipsy, and that last thought started to consume me. He wasgorgeous. He was charming. I was horny.
I remember coming home and almost passing out on the couch and then he kissed me and I was already so ridiculously hot for him there was no way I was stopping it. I wanted to finish what we’d started so many years ago. I needed to get it out of my system. That’s all it was. And now we could go back to being buddies. It should be easy.
So why the hell did I wake up in his bed? He must have put me there. Why would he do that?! You don’t do that to a girl you were just scratching an itch with! You do that with a girlfriend or a wife or whatever.
I am not that. I don’t want to be that. I willnotbe that. No. No. No.
“Damn it, Devin!” I whisper to myself.
I’m still exhausted and it’s still stupid early but I can’t sleep. Not with my heart hammering like this and my mind filled with images of riding him on the couch downstairs. I sigh and drag myself into the bathroom. Might as well go to work.
An hour later, my assistant Sam walks into the office and looks startled to see me. “Hey! You’re here early!”
