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He whispers things to me I never thought I’d hear in my entire life. Certainly that boring banker of a husband would never say. Hell, Collin fucked with his socks on. That right there should tell you how normal he was in bed.
Cason Jarrett Reins. He’s nothing like that.
It starts with “I bet your clit is swollen. Throbbing like my fucking cock.”
Sexy, right?
I got one more for you. Hold your breath for this one.
Are you?
Actually, I have to explain where his hands are first. On my throat. He stops kissing me, eyes with fiery desire, and pants the words “I wanna see you choke on my cock and my cum on your lips,” he rasps, peering down at me as if he’s waiting for me to reply.
What happened to the nice guy?
Oh, who cares. I want this one fucking me into next Friday.
But do you want to know what I say in response?
“Okay.”
No, seriously, that’s what I say.
I panic. I want to reply with something equally as sexy but can’t think of anything.
During all of this, the Uber driver never shuts up. We’re completely oblivious to him, but he’s talking to us like we’re best friends he hasn’t seen in years. Cason is nice about it and offers a “cool man,” an “uh-huh” and a few other useless versions of answers to the guy but never stops touching me. I love that he can’t keep his hands off me.
Even though I know it’s not going past tonight, his attention is exactly what I need.
When the driver pulls up to my house, Cason tips the Uber—sadly. Remember? No money.
“I feel completely mortified that I don’t have any money.”
“It’s okay. I wasn’t gonna charge you for tonight.” He slips his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans, his breathing evening out. “First ride’s always free.”
I laugh, trying to dig my keys out of my bag. “That’s nice of you.”
Cason eyes the house, his footsteps raking against the stone path leading to the house. “How do you have this nice of a house and no money?”
“My husband.” I spit the word out with venom, glaring at the house. “He wasn’t paying the bills like I thought. I’m assuming all our money was going to keep his mistress happy.”
His chest meets my back, his head dipping forward to the spot he’d been eyeing all night. “He sounds like a douchebag, and I think I need to fuck you on his bed.”
“Why’s that?”
He turns me around and backs me up against the door. I swallow, unsure what happens next. He gives me a slow, sexy smile.Damn. Why haven’t I fucked a baseball player sooner? I know I was married, but I’d been around them my entire life. I should have considered them before today.
The air between us is tense as his eyes linger on my face. “Your husband really dead, or were you just saying that to get me to come home with you?”
“Is that why you came back here with me? Because my husband died, and you feel sorry for me?”
“Fuck no.” He blows out a breath, raking his hand through his hair. It’s at that point, his quick comebacks and vulgar words falter, and I sense the innocence he still possesses. Nervousness even. Blinking the emotion away, he smiles. “The only thing I’m sorry for is not taking you home sooner.”
I lick my lips, searching his face bathed in the golden light of my porch. My breathing falters like his did in the car as he traps me against the coolness of the door. “He’s dead. Car accident. Last week.”
His brow pulls together. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I was too, until I found out he wasn’t paying our bills and had a girlfriend on the side. Karma. Don’t fuck with karma.”
His lips quirk into a beautiful smile. “Noted.” Kissing me again, he pants against my lips, “How about you fuck me instead?”
“Show me the way.”
His eyes lift, his mouth parting from mine. “You have to unlock the door first.”
“Right.”