She arches off the bed, her thighs shaking where they’re locked around my waist, sweat slicking where our bodies meet. Her gasps turn into chanting my name, over and over, and the sound drives me fucking crazy. I feel her tightening around me, gettingclose, and I know with everything that I am that this woman is mine.
“I’ve got you.” My thumb finds where we’re joined, pressing against her clit. “Let go, Claire.”
She comes apart, her back arching, my name on her lips.
I follow. Bury my face in her neck, my beard scraping her skin. My weight’s probably crushing her, but she’s holding on tight, her legs still locked around my waist like she doesn’t want me to move. I breathe her in as I spill inside her, and we collapse together, our hearts hammering, sweat-slicked and tangled.
I can’t move. And I don’t want to.
She traces patterns on my chest, her fingers light as they wander, almost like I’m breakable. I’m not, but I let her treat me like I am.
I catch her hand and press a kiss to her palm. “Any regrets?”
“Not even one.” She props her chin on my chest. Looks up at me. “You?”
“Only that we didn’t do this sooner.”
She smiles. A genuine, wide smile. Then she settles against me, her breathing evening out as we lie here. Through the balcony doors, the ocean glows under the large moon. The breeze coming in smells like salt and jasmine. The resort’s quiet now, just the waves and her breathing and my heartbeat as the water lulls us to sleep.
I hold Claire close and think about our three dates and what might comes after.
And I’m choosing her. Every single day.
She’s worth it.
All of it.
Chapter 8
Claire
Saturday couldn’t arrive sooner. The weekend breakfast at Hank & Lulu’s Diner is my weekly ritual. Coffee, pancakes, and the local paper while the rest of Indigo Hills sleeps off Friday night. It’s quiet, predictable, and mine.
Except this morning. Hunter Ashe slides onto the stool next to me at the counter as if he does this every Saturday.
“You following me now?” I don’t look up from my paper.
“Nope. I’ve been coming here every Saturday since I was sixteen. You’re the one in my spot.”
I glance over. He’s in jeans and a worn t-shirt, looking frustratingly good. “There are eight other empty stools.”
“True.” He flags down Lulu Jenkins, who’s been running this place since before I moved to Texas. “Morning, Lulu. Can I get the usual?”
“Hunter Ashe, how’s that arm treating you?” Lulu narrows her eyes at his scar.
“Better now that this one finally agreed to go on a date with me.”
Lulu looks between us with the expression of a woman who’s seen everything twice. “Did she now?”
“She did.” He says it easily, like it’s a simple fact. “I’m picking her up at four.”
“Hunter.” My voice carries a warning I don’t entirely mean. “You don’t have to tell all our business.”
He laughs, taking the outstretched coffee cup from Lulu. “As if you didn’t already know that.”
Lulu points to the corner where Luke Wilder sits with one of his nephews. “Your buddy beat you to it.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course he did.”
