Her smile is indulgent, her voice sweet. “You like hearing how good you are, how good you make me feel, don’t you?”
Too far gone for words, I nod frantically. Every move she makes drags a groan from me. I’ve never made this much noise during sex in my life, but I don’t care. Shame doesn’t exist in her orbit. How can it when she’s looking at me like I’m the best thing she’s ever seen?
Claire leans forward, covering my lips with hers. The kiss is rough, all tongue and teeth. Her hips rock frantically.
She releases my mouth long enough to growl, “Use your hands.”
In an instant, I’ve put a hand in her hair, the other working her clit. Her pussy tightens around me, the first shaky spasms of an oncoming orgasm. She gasps into my mouth, and I swallow it down, wanting more, greedy for her. I can’t hold off much longer. My cock tenses inside her. Tugging her mouth from mine, I guide it to my neck, hoping I’m right, that this will be what we both need to crest the edge. She takes my offering without hesitation, sinking her teeth into the side of my throat.
There’s a deep, guttural sound, and at first, I don’t realize it’s me. Claire orgasms, crying out, releasing my throat to sob nonsense against it, hands clawing my shirt. That’s the permission I need to explode. My hips jerk wildly, curses rolling from my lips like I’ve never had an orgasm in my life. Grabbing her hips, I move her roughly up and down on top of me, prolonging her release and intensifying mine. I lose track of where I am, who I am. There’s nothing except her and pleasure.
When my orgasm ebbs and the world exists again, I’m panting. She rests on my chest. I smooth her hair back from her face, and she presses up to a seated position, giving me a sated smile. I smile back, but I have a question. The answer should be obvious, but I foresee myself asking obvious questions from now on.
I’ll communicate till she begs me to shut up.
“We’re together, right? You’re mine?”
She laughs, leaning back down, hair falling around us like a curtain. Pressing a sweet kiss on my lips, then another, she stops just long enough to say, “Yes, we are, and I am.”
“That means technically, despite what just happened, I caught you,” I mutter into her mouth.
Claire smacks my chest. “Semantics.” Her voice grows serious. “Did you like it? We don’t have to do it ag—”
“Loved it,” I interrupt. “But I think you could tell.”
“Just making sure.” She smiles but studies me like she isn’t sure she believes me. “I know being the one hunting is what you’re into.”
My chuckle surprises her, so I know what I say next will be a shock. “Honestly? I was never into it until you.”
She sits up, and I stretch, trying to palm one of her breasts. Staying out of reach, she asks, “But what about the other women you hired? Or Margot? And what do you mean you were never into it? You propositioned me.”
Admitting it is embarrassing, but if we’re doing this communication thing, I have to. “I didn’t know hunting was something people did until that party. It…woke something up. I tried it out with a few women, but it didn’t feel right. Something was missing.” I opt not to share my coffee shop lurking or how I impatiently waited for her and Keith to split. Maybe I’ll take those to the grave.
“But this feels right?” She looks puzzled. I don’t blame her. I’m in my head, and it took me a while to realize. Now it seems like the most obvious thing in the world.
“It does,” I say simply. “You were what was missing. It was never going to be right without you.”
Claire blinks at me, and I think her eyes are misty. Her lips are back on mine, hungry and urgent, her fingers wrapping around the back of my neck. My cock stirs beneath her, and she makes a surprised noise into my mouth. I’m already rolling us over, settling my hips between her thighs.
I’m not chasing her. At least not this time.
THIRTY-ONE Claire
To Shane’s dismay, I don’t immediately move in with him. I considered it, but decided to wait and see where we are when the apartment’s lease ends. September sneaks up on us, the rest of the summer flying by in a blur of hunts, hiking dates, and way too many episodes of Real Estate Wreck. All too soon, school’s back in session. However, the end of my apartment lease is welcome.
When it arrives, I act like I’m considering renewing the lease without Sydney. Shane riots in the most Shane-like way possible and makes a PowerPoint detailing the reasons I must move in with him. I let him get halfway through before admitting I’m fucking with him.
It’s November 1, and I’ve been living here for three weeks. Gretchen has moved in with her daughter. Margot and I are two peas in a people-pleasing pod, and I still haven’t given up on getting her to fire her miserable client.
I’m plucking a rogue chin hair when my phone chimes on the bathroom counter. Picking it up no longer gives me an anxiety spike. I haven’t unblocked Keith’s number. The satisfaction I felt knowing he was trying to contact me, and I was ignoring him, pales in comparison to my current happiness. Shane says they rarely cross paths at the firm, and I’m not sure which one of them is responsible for that. Swiping my phone open, I read the text.
Shane Underwood: Almost home, little deer. Let’s say I’m sick and skip tonight. *cough* *cough*
Shane Underwood: We’d have the house to ourselves…
Caine’s been staying in the guest room I used to occupy while he works at the Abattoir. Though he’s going to the charity event with us tonight, he’s usually out till all hours creeping and crawling anyway. The promise of an empty house for sexy hide-and-seek isn’t as tempting as Shane would like it to be.
After I spent an hour doing my hair and makeup? Not a chance, I respond.
I’m not particularly eager to go to a silent auction, but this one’s benefiting Pawsitively Perfect Pet Rescue, which is run by Marianna Crowe, the wife of one of Shane’s partners. Margot volunteers at the rescue and helped plan tonight’s event. I also want to support her, so we are not skipping. It’s a worthy cause, and an opportunity to push Shane a smidge closer to adopting a dog.
If they play a slideshow of canine senior citizens looking for good homes, he’ll be putty in their paws. So far, his only argument against getting a dog has been that it’s easier not to. Ridiculous coming from a man who makes so many things in his life far more challenging than they need to be.
Stepping back from the mirror, I give myself a once-over. Not too shabby. A clingy navy-blue midi dress with a low neckline and long sleeves. I haven’t worn it since last winter, and it’s snugger than I remembered, so I broke out the shapewear. I’ve pulled my hair into an updo of sorts, leaving enough pieces loose so that if it starts coming apart, it should pass as intentionally “undone.” Hopefully.
There’s a chance Keith and Naomi could be there tonight, and I’m petty enough to admit that I’d like to look a little nicer than I did the last time I saw them. Plus, there’s that law of the universe dictating that one will only run into an ex when looking their absolute worst. Wear something sloppy and have a bad case of hormonal acne? Every person I’ve ever dated will somehow cross my path. There’s a chance the reverse is true, and if getting fancied up increases my odds of not seeing Keith? I’ll go full glam.
Finally satisfied, I hit the light switch and head into the bedroom. Sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed, I slip my heels on. I’m fastening the second shoe when there’s a knock on the door followed by Caine’s voice. “Can I come in?”
