And because I was too lost in my own guilt and grief, I put up a wall, refusing to let anyone else in. Yet, somehow, in the short time I’ve known Sawyer, she’s not only climbed over that wall but she’s also ripped my chest cavity apart and has found a direct line to my heart.
Sawyer climbs up, resting her hands on my shoulders, and I hold her hips as she lowers herself onto me. Her tight pussy sucks my dick in, little by little, until I’m seated all the way inside her. I close my eyes momentarily as the guilt of being inside a woman who isn’t my late wife overtakes me. She’s dead, and I know this, but that doesn’t stop the shame from coming just the same.
“Hudson,” Sawyer murmurs, her lips pressing against mine. “Stay with me, please.”
Her soft plea has me opening my eyes and meeting her bright green gaze. Her long brown hair is spilling over us, creating a barrier to block out the world around us.
It’s just Sawyer and me… in this bed together, our bodies connected as one. I exhale a slow, calming breath, releasing my guilt at the same time, telling myself that I can have this. I deserve this. I’ve worked hard. I’ve taken care of my kids. I’ve spent years feeling alone, and it’s okay to let someone in, to allow my heart to feel again.
She starts moving, rising and falling, fucking me slow and deep. I fist her hair, pulling her face to mine so I can kiss her, taste her. Our mouths make love to the same rhythm our bodies do—possessively, desperately.
As she cries out her orgasm, her walls tightening around me, I fly over the edge with her, draining my release into the condom, though I secretly wish nothing was between us. That my seed was coating her insides instead, filling her up.
Sawyer doesn’t pull off me right away. Instead, she rains kisses all over my face and neck, and I love that she doesn’t want to break our connection. Because I crave her just as much and need her just as hard. I want her in a way I’ve never wanted anyone else in my life.
The last thought has my insides turning cold, my wall of guilt erecting, and I scramble to lift her off me and go straight to the bathroom to remove the condom and clean up. When I walk back out, she’s sitting on the bed, staring at the door with her teeth trapping her bottom lip.
“What’s wrong?” she asks softly.
“I need to get going.” I’m an asshole, a piece of shit, but I need space. To think. To figure shit out. Because Sawyer’s a fucking game changer, yet she’s not even in the game.
“I have to go too,” she says, standing. “Abby is over there.”
“She can spend the night.”
“I’d rather get her now.” Her voice is clipped, cold, and that’s my fault.
I nod once, and she grabs her clothes, bringing them with her to the bathroom. She’s in there for several minutes before she comes out dressed. “Ready.”
I should keep my mouth shut because she’s giving me an out, but when I look at her sad face, I can’t allow myself to do it. So, instead, I step in front of her and pull her into my arms. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, burrowing my face into the perfect curve of her neck.
“What’s going on?” she asks. “Was it… not good for you?”
I jerk back in shock. “Are you insane? It was… Fuck! Sawyer.” I tug on my hair and step back. “I felt it. The chemistry, the sparks. The shit you said when we were talking earlier. I felt it all.”
Her mouth curls into a hint of a smile. “I did too,” she admits. “So, then, what’s wrong?”
“You don’t get it!” I bark, turning my back on her, hating myself.
“Then help me get it,” she says, entwining her warm, soft hand with mine. She pulls me to the couch and pushes me onto it. Then she climbs into my lap, straddling me. “Talk to me, Hudson.”
Her emerald eyes, filled with such raw emotion, are my breaking point. “I was with Clara for over six years, and it was never like that,” I tell her, ashamed by my admission. It’s one thing to allow myself pleasure, but for our chemistry to override what I had with my wife… Fuck! “It should’ve been like that,” I tell her, dropping my head against her chest. “I was married to her. I loved her. It should’ve been like it was between us tonight… but it wasn’t. So, what does that say about me? About us?”
Sawyer doesn’t answer me because she knows there aren’t any answers to my questions. I’m feeling guilty because I felt… feel more chemistry with her than I did with my wife, and that’s not something I can change or fix. Because Clara is gone, buried six feet under the ground, and Sawyer is here, her heart beating, her warm blood coursing through her veins. Clara is gone, and Sawyer is in my arms.