Until You (The Redemption, #1)(47)



“The fact that this even crosses your mind makes me like you even more, Crew Madden.” I set my wine glass down and crawl over his lap so my thighs are on either side of his. “It makes you even sexier than you already are.”

“I thought the word you used earlier was hot.”

“That too.” I wrap my arms around his neck while his hands cup my ass. “We’ll keep this from the girls until you want to say something, if you ever do. As for now, we’re just . . . friendly neighbors.”

I’m not sure why it hits so hard that even if we wanted more—which is insane to even think about after only one night together—that’s all we’ll ever really be able to be. Friendly neighbors. He’s here for the summer, and I have my whole host of baggage I can’t burden someone else with.

So we both better get used to being—

I suck in a breath, completely distracted from my overthinking, as his lips close over the spot right beneath my ear.

“Hey, neighbor?” he murmurs.

“Hmm,” I practically moan.

“I’m about to borrow some of your sugar. I hope you don’t mind.”

His lips close over the peak of my breast. “Borrow away.”



I don’t fight my smile because while no one else can see it right now, it feels good to do it. To have a reason to do it.

And I definitely don’t stop myself from visually tracing the lines of his ridiculous abs to where the sheet rests at the very end of his happy trail. Even scarred and sewn back together, Crew is beautiful.

The man definitely knows how to change things up. Each time we came together last night was different. We did the greedy, needy sex. The slowed down and take a bit more time sex. The this is funny, we’ve bumped our heads, we’ve misaimed where things need to go, we can’t stop laughing sex.

Maybe I enjoyed all the phases of the night because the last time I had sex was with Kaleo. For a month, the act was a necessary evil to endure. Until he was arrested, it was a way to survive without him knowing of my betrayal. An improvisation of epic means to hide my repulsion when the man I’d stopped loving wanted to touch and pleasure me.

I was terrified each time he touched me that I’d hesitate and he’d somehow know.

I shiver at the memories I’d much rather erase from my brain.

But right now, in this moment, that time feels so far away. So long ago. Especially when I’m staring at a man I thought would be a hard-ass but is really anything but.



“You should stay here.” He pants the words out as we come down from our last orgasm.

“What do you mean I should stay here?”

“At the house. Here. In the room down the hall.”

“Um . . . I don’t even know what to say about that.”

“They’re going to have to tear up the hardwood floor. Cut out the drywall. The water will be off for some time while this all happens. It would just be easier if you and Hani stayed here.”

I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to respond. It’s one thing to have an incredible night of sex with someone, but it’s a whole other thing to move in with them. It makes finding out what drives you crazy about them that much quicker. It makes the newness wear off that much faster. It makes—

“I can hear you overthinking from here, Tennyson. I’m not asking you to move in for the summer or anything permanent like that. Just while they fix the shit that broke in your house because I didn’t get down there in time.” He reaches out and rests a hand on my lower abdomen. A casual gesture that somehow feels so very intimate. “The girls would love it. It’d be nice to have some intelligent adult conversation on things other than what’s trending and how to do a Swedish braid.”

“You mean Dutch braid?”

“Yeah. That.” He chuckles. “See? I need more adult interaction. That, and you’d get more horrible cooking and baking. That’s all. Nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” I ask, suggestion laced in those two words.

“Well”—I can hear his smile in his voice—“unless you want something else.”

“It might complicate things with the girls under the same roof.”

“Or it might make it more fun.” He leans over and kisses my bare shoulder. “Think about it.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


Tennyson




“THE GIRLS.”

I awake to Crew’s startled words, followed by the sound of a car door slamming. We both bolt out of bed, half-awake and seriously sleep deprived from all our exertions last night.

Laughter bubbles up. I can’t help it when in the chaos of trying to find my clothes, I look up and see Crew. He’s standing in the middle of the room, hair rumpled, a pillow crease on his cheek, and morning wood flying full-staff.

“Get dressed,” I say and yelp when my foot gets hooked in the waist of my shorts. I fall over, landing with a resounding thud that has both of us laughing despite the frenzy we’re both in the midst of.

Already with his shorts on, Crew effortlessly hauls me up from the floor and shoves the rest of my clothes into my hands. “Here.”

Fighting more laughter, I start toward the bedroom door only to hear the front door open and a chorus of “Dad!” rings out and up the stairs.

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