Page 7 of Just This Once (Stone Family #2)

In all my previous experience, I’d been complacent. Accepted that not-great was good enough, and now, at forty-two years old, I finally know I should never have settled. This is what I deserved.

A man who grunts his pleasure, who speaks soft words against my collarbone, who gazes down at me with admiration, and who wants me to find my pleasure. Even more than his own.

“You feel so good. Fuck, I can’t stand it,” he murmurs, reaching between us to finger my clit, pausing his thrusts to stroke the already oversensitized bud.

All it takes is a pinch, and I’m gone again, another orgasm ripping through me, leaving me boneless and breathless.

He follows soon after, his body rigid, his cock pulsing inside me, his breath hot on my neck, his chest damp against mine.

We lie together, our bodies entwined, until we come down from the high, my heart rate slowing to its regular pace, sensation eventually flowing back into my extremities from where it had coiled and exploded at the single point of contact between us.

Dante rolls off me, collapsing onto the bed, throwing his arm over his head with his eyes closed.

He appears in no hurry to leave, and I watch him for a moment, his chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm, his dark hair a mess from my fingers.

He’s at ease in himself, exhausted from what we just did, and maybe…

blissed out? Because of me? Because of this extraordinary moment we shared.

And yet, I can’t think too hard about how it makes me feel. How he makes me feel. That rabbit hole is too narrow and winding, much too unsafe to tread.

The sooner I get rid of him, the sooner I can move on.

I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and dig through my pajama drawer for one of my sleep shirts, long enough to cover all the important bits. When I turn around, I find him focused on me, a curious gleam in his eyes.

“Whose shirt is that? The ex-husband’s?”

I absently tug on the black cotton with the white logo for Stone Ink in the middle. “It’s a hundred years old. My brother’s.”

He doesn’t reply, except to purse his lips. Before he can ask another question, I snatch his clothes from the floor and toss them at him. “Get dressed.”

“We literally just finished.” He waves at his now-limp dick. “Don’t even have the condom off yet.”

I circle my hands, wordlessly telling him to get moving, and he shakes his head at me, laughing. “You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“What if I want to stay? Give you another couple of orgasms?”

I help myself to a dig through his wallet. There is no other condom in it, and I throw it so it lands on his taut belly. “All out of luck.”

He presses up to his hands. “I don’t need condoms for what I have planned.”

I wave my hand, dismissing any of his ideas. “I plan on sleeping.”

He slants his gaze to the bed meaningfully. “I don’t take up much room. I could curl up right here on the end.”

I bite back the laugh threatening to erupt. I can’t stand that he can be so irritating and charming at the same time. “No. Up. Dress. Out.”

“All right. All right.” He heaves a sigh but pulls on his clothes, while I stand by the bedroom door with my arms crossed, making sure he leaves nothing behind.

When he’s fully dressed, I lead him downstairs, and Frankie pads out of his hiding spot, following us to the door, where Dante bends to kiss him.

“You know, I think your dog is sadder to see me leave than you are.”

I don’t disagree, and Frankie sits at Dante’s feet, looking up at him with pleading eyes, his tail thumping softly against the floor.

Traitor .

Dante grins, sliding his arms into the leather jacket he let me borrow. “How about you give me your number?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

He isn’t deterred. “You know you had fun.”

“I did, and now you can go. Thank you.”

“Harsh,” he says with a laugh, casually holding on to my hand, his fingers twining with mine, pulling me closer.

I go willingly, putting my other hand on his chest. This close and in this light, without the haze of sex between us, I appreciate exactly how young he looks.

No wrinkles or crow’s-feet to be found as his eyes drift between mine.

It feels intimate. Familiar. He exudes a kind of safety I’m not sure I’ve ever felt from a man before, and it’s difficult to find words to form an argument against him.

“Your eyes have streaks of amber in them,” he tells me right before he cradles my cheek in his hand, his thumb ghosting under my eye. “Let me see you again.”

It’s difficult, but I force the answer out, offering more of an explanation than I would any other person. “I can’t. I have kids and… My life is complicated.”

He studies me for a moment, then nods. “All right, duchess. If you say so.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. “But I have a feeling we’ll see each other again.”

I don’t dare respond, my head and heart at odds with each other, and I step back, putting space between us.

With a tip of his chin, he opens the door. “Goodnight, Taryn.”

“G’night.” I shut and lock the door behind him, leaning against it, letting my smile loose as his voice carries through to me.

“I told you…famous last words.”

And I cover my laugh with my hand.