His mouth on mine was an exploration, and I found myself moaning as his arms wrapped around me.
We were a sweaty, tangled mess, even in the chill crisp of the autumn air. I hadn’t turned on my heat yet, since I was accustomed to the cold weather of New York.
And it was a good thing, because if I had, we’d probably get heat stroke.
After a few minutes, I felt myself building, building, building. Thatcher was going to make me come again.
And then I was floating over the edge, lost in the bliss of release.
He kissed me as I came, my body surrendering to him yet again.
A light laugh escaped his lips as he took me to heights so high I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover.
Afterwards, I lay there gasping while he somehow found more stamina. His thrusts got wild and reckless until a loud groaning sound erupted out of him.
Thatcher buried himself inside me as he came, his groan turning into a growl.
And then he collapsed on me, and I felt his heart racing against mine.
Could there have been anything more perfect than this?
Maybe. If I didn’t hate the man. Or was it love-hate? I couldn’t quite tell. And what was the difference between the two? Right now they melded together into one man.
A feeling grew in me so strong it threatened to break out from my rib cage. It was a need that went beyond the physical.
In that moment, I wasn’t sure I could live without the man. And that gave him power over me. I was lost, every cell in my body attuned to Thatcher.
When I could finally speak again, I asked something flippant, trying to hide the emotions racing inside me. “Do you always fuck like that?”
He buried his head in my hair, inhaling deeply. Then he surprised me with his honesty. “No. There’s something different about you. You bring it out in me, Shelby. Tell me this isn’t a one-night thing. Tell me I get more time.”
More time.
What did that mean?
An hour? A day? A week? A year?
A lifetime?
I couldn’t ponder what it meant, so I just whispered back. “You get more time.”
That would be good enough for tonight. Tomorrow I could sort out what this all meant.
Sara had been right. She’d be happy to know that Thatcher’s reputation had lived up to itself. The man knew how to fuck.
Chapter 7
Thatcher
We woke up tangled in each other’s arms.
Last night had changed my life.
But we still hadn’t talked much. We didn’t know what we were.
Fuck buddies?
That was a given.
