Hold Me Close(45)

Oh, quiet, oh yes, there it was, they had to be quiet and not let anyone know. This had to be done in secret, in the dark, in furtive, guilty moments they were supposed to regret but never, ever did.

She never did.

He f*cked her steadily. He knew her rhythm. How to press his pelvis to her clit the right way, over and over, until her hips lifted and she arched, raking his back with her nails and hooking her heels over his ass to shove him deeper. Harder. That’s when he eased, slowing, teasing, pulling almost all the way out and using the tip of his cock to barely dip inside her while he put a hand between them to tweak her clit.

With other men Effie could control herself, but not with Heath. Never with him. She did not give up to her orgasm so much as she was swept away by it. Rushing waves of pleasure shook her, and she cried out into his mouth over and over as his thrusts got deeper again.

When he bit down on the curve of her shoulder, another wave of ecstasy ripped through her. Heath caught her flesh in his teeth, sucking hard. He would leave a mark, oh, f*ck yes, she thought, she would see it in the morning, that bruise, that place where he had left the proof of this.

Effie came again.

Heath soothed the pain in her neck with his tongue and captured her mouth once more, this time teasing her with his lips the way he’d been doing with his cock. She couldn’t manage another orgasm. She was broken from the pleasure, wrung out, but when he rolled his hips and groaned into her mouth, Effie put her fingers in his hair and pulled him tight against her.

Heath finished with a low, soft cry against her. He buried his face against the side of her neck, lips pressed to the spot he’d bitten. He pressed deep and went still. It took him a few minutes to soften inside her, but then he pulled out and moved to lie on his side, turning her to spoon against her ass. It was wet. Effie thought distractedly of her clean sheets, of at least pulling up a blanket to cover them, but in the end all she did was wake to the morning light streaming through her windows and a dozen aching sorenesses all over her and an empty bed beside her.





chapter nineteen

Shit. It was late. Effie had stretched, cataloging the places she ached, but now shot up and tossed off the covers. Polly would miss the bus and be late for school, Effie would have to drive her, she stank of sex and needed a shower, there was no time. With a frustrated groan, Effie slung on her robe and went out into the hallway.

Heath was in the kitchen. “Hey.”

“Hey, I need to get...” Effie paused. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine. I got Polly up and on the bus, don’t worry.” Heath held up two mugs of steaming coffee. “Thought you might need this.”

Effie clutched the robe tighter around her throat. “Shit. I’m sorry.”


“I always wake up early. It’s okay. And I like getting my girl off to school.” Heath shrugged. “I miss her, Effie.”

Effie took the mug of coffee and sipped carefully. He’d put too much sweetener in, forgetting or maybe not knowing that she’d gone off it several months ago when she’d read on the internet that artificial sweeteners could cause skin irritations and she’d been plagued by a round of distracting itches. Still, the coffee was hot and welcome.

She sighed, though. “It’s confusing to her, that’s all.”

“You both lived with me for the first four years of her life,” Heath said flatly. “The only person who’s confused about that is you.”

“I’m not going to fight with you about this.” Her stomach rumbled.

Heath put his mug on the table, plucked a couple pieces of toast from the toaster and set them on the table, along with the butter and jelly and a knife. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her while she made herself a fresh mug of coffee.

“The sweetener,” Effie said without looking at him. “I take it with real sugar now, or black.”

“I let her think I slept in the guest room, you know,” Heath said. “I’m not a total f*cking moron. I do get it, Effie. But I love Polly, and you can’t tell me that it wouldn’t be helpful to have someone here with you to help out.”

Effie, mug cradled in her hands, turned. “Are you behind on your rent again?”

“No, and f*ck you,” Heath said evenly. “Don’t be a bitch. You know I’ve been working. I have a decent job. They like me there. I don’t need your f*cking charity. I’m probably doing better than you are.”

Effie sipped carefully to keep the hot coffee from burning her tongue. “There are other reasons why living together does not work out for us, Heath.”

“Right. Because your mother hates me. Because you want to be free to f*ck other men.”

“Because we don’t work as a couple,” Effie reminded him without letting him push her into anger. They would fight. Then they’d f*ck. In the light of day she had no more regrets than she had in the dark, but she did have some small measure of sense.

Heath took a seat and started spreading butter on the toast. Then jelly, strawberry, always jelly and never jam because jam had chunks in it. Watching him, Effie failed to push away the immeasurable sadness that crept inside of her. She sipped her coffee and looked out the kitchen window, giving him her back. She was hungry but now couldn’t eat.

“Why won’t you just let me help you?” Heath asked. “When you know it would make me happy?”