The Hookup (Moonlight and Motor Oil #1)(120)

“I . . . I honestly don’t know,” I replied.

“Obviously, me either,” he said.

“I seem to be able to do it,” I shared.

He stared down at me.

Then he made that noise, his muted roar.

After that, Johnny was kissing me.

I didn’t know how we made it back to the bed.

I did know how I was able to fall back to sleep almost instantly after Johnny was finished with me.

So I obviously didn’t know he didn’t fall back to sleep.

He also didn’t go stand under the stars and stare at the creek.

He lay in bed, holding me.

And he stared at the dark ceiling.

Smiling.

THE END



Dive into more from Kristen Ashley.

Discover Complicated now!



When small town Nebraska sheriff Hixon Drake meets Greta Dare, the connection couldn’t be stronger, but the timing couldn’t be worse.

Dealing with the fallout of a divorce he never wanted and setting up a new home for his kids, Hix becomes that guy, that one he never wanted to be, and puts a stop to things before they can even start. Protecting his kids, and himself, is his only priority.

Greta, on the other hand, has found the place for her and the brother she adores that’s perfect for them—a sleepy little town in Nebraska. She’s learned from life that there are no hopes and dreams. The only thing to look forward to is peace. And that’s what she works hard to build for herself and her brother. Right up until Hix walks into her life.

Hix can’t fight the pull and stay away from Greta for long. And Greta’s finding it hard not to hope for something more with all the promise that is Hix.

But when the first murder that’s happened in over five decades rocks his small, sleepy county, Hix has got to learn to trust again, convince Greta to take a shot with him, and at the same time catch a killer.

In other words, things are definitely…Complicated.



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COMPLICATED




Later

Hixon

HIX ROLLED TO his bare ass on the side of the bed, putting his feet on the floor.

Damn.

What was that?

Not good.

Not good.

Because it was good.

It was unbelievably good.

On this thought, he felt her move in the bed. Heard her low mew. Smelled her damned perfume.

Powdery, flowery and sweet, but it wasn’t any of that that got to him.

There was a musk to it that made all that sexy.

Add that to the scent of sex in the room. The trace of her on him (that being more than just her perfume). The dark that surrounded him cut only with moonlight and a distant streetlight, so he could see practically nothing. This meaning he only had his other senses at his command, Hix felt his stomach tighten, his shoulders, his jaw.

All this to beat back the draw of her.

He had to get out of there.

He pushed up to his feet, mumbling, “Gotta go.”

There was a quick beat of silence before he heard her soft, surprised, “Sorry. What?”

He reached for his shorts, pulling them up his legs, repeating, “Gotta go.”

The mood of the room changed. The sluggish, warm feel of post-really-freaking-great-coitus shimmered to nothing as something heavier started seeping in.

“Go?” she asked.

God, she could unravel him with a syllable.

So, yeah.

That was right.

Go.

He had to go.

And do it before he smelled more of her. Heard more of that voice any way it came at him—the way it was before and for certain the way it sounded just then with hurt trembling through it.

He definitely couldn’t look at her.

Not in her bed, the sheets rumpled because they’d made them that way, their clothes all over the room because they’d thrown them there, her mass of hair a mess because his fingers had been in it.

Not any of that.

But also just not looking at her at all.

“Go,” he grunted, locating his trousers five feet from where his shorts had been and tearing them up his legs.

He heard her movements in the bed, sensing she was sitting up in it, not getting out of it, which was good. If the woman did more than that, and all he had to do was visualize it in his head, he’d turn back.

“I . . . well, uh . . .”

That was all she said.

But it was too much. Now each syllable seemed to coat his skin, sing to him, luring him back.

Jesus.

What was that?

And damn, it’d been a long time.

But as long as it had been, he’d never been that guy.

The guy he was right then going to be.

How did that guy play crap like this?

“Thanks,” he muttered.

Another quick beat of silence before she said in a voice that was low and stunned, “Thanks?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged his shirt on his shoulders and didn’t bother with the buttons. He just glanced her way without really looking at her even as he bent to tag his shoes and socks from the floor, thankful they were all in a messy pile, not thankful her lacy bra was tangled with them. “That was great,” he finished.

Lame, man, lame. And total dick, he thought.