She opened her mouth to argue, but he thrust again. Pleasure arced up her spine, bowing her against the wall. Jack lowered his head and took the nipple of one breast into his mouth. He continued the steady rock of his hips as he took her nipple between his teeth and added pressure. As if there were a direct connection from her breast to her clit, Miranda took a giant step toward the ledge of orgasm. But he released pressure too soon, sucking and licking to ease the sting of his bite.
Her head swam. “Goddammit, Jack.”
He growled against her skin, and finally, finally, quickened his pace without sacrificing depth. That was all it took to shove her over the edge. The orgasm bucked through her, wringing a cry from her throat and tensing every muscle with pleasure.
A second later, Jack swore as he climaxed. His muscles turned to rock, and guttural, deeply satisfied sounds ebbed from his chest.
They hadn’t even caught their breath before he swore again. “Fuck.” He hit the shower control until the water turned cold. “Too hot.”
He dropped his forehead against her shoulder again and sighed. He leaned into her, holding her up with his body weight instead of his strength. His body loosened, and he went still. His breathing slowed.
Miranda let herself drift in a euphoric haze, too aware of how quickly this would end. How harsh reality would feel.
She stroked his neck, his shoulders. Traced the shape of his ear. Might have fallen asleep if he hadn’t lifted his head.
He smiled at her. Happy. Relaxed. Satisfied. Sweet. “I haven’t had sex that good in fucking forever.”
His rough, languid voice made Miranda smile. She combed all ten fingers into his hair. “Same.”
5
Jack was exhausted, but it was a good, sated, blissful kind of exhaustion. He lay sideways on the bed, his head on Miranda’s stomach. Her fingers skimmed through his hair and traced his face. He could still hear her heart tripping from her last orgasm. This night had been a one-of-a-kind marathon.
Sunrise crept into the sky, signaling their limited time left together before the world intruded, and Jack found himself growing anxious about parting, worried he’d never see her again. And even though they’d only known each other for hours, he couldn’t deny that he was invested.
They hadn’t talked much unless it was to express pleasure, and they’d been way too caught up in each other to pause for a look at those pictures she’d asked about earlier. Now, with their time together coming to a close, he had all kinds of questions.
“Does your family live here?” he asked, his words slurring a little with fatigue.
“No real family to speak of.”
He tilted his head and looked up at her. “Really?”
“My mom died of cirrhosis a few years ago, and she wasn’t exactly motherly to begin with. Never knew my father. I have two half siblings, but we aren’t close.”
He took her han
d, kissed the palm and threaded their fingers. “And this father figure you mentioned?”
“He’s the only one of my mom’s many boyfriends who actually acted like an adult. I think my mom stayed with him as long as she did because he kept me in line, which was no small job.”
“You raised hell, huh?”
“That I did.”
“He lives here?”
She nodded. “We stayed close after he’d had enough of my mom’s bullshit. I’ve camped on his sofa a number of times when things were rocky or tight over the years. He’s a really good man.”
He lifted her arm and ran his fingers across small scars on her hand and forearm. He’d seen a few others in his travels of discovering her body—a couple of small marks on her face, neck, chest, thigh. They looked like burns. “Where’d you get these?”
She lifted both hands and looked at them. “Learning to weld.”
That surprised him. Then he remembered the man she’d thrown out of the bar and grinned. “Right. Cody.”
“Tell me about your family.”
“My mom passed away last year. Cancer.”