Page 49 of Nanny for Grumpy Grant

"I'm close," I warn him, my nails digging into his back.

"Come with me," he urges, his voice strained. "Let go, Ivy. Let go with me."

His words, combined with a particularly deep thrust that hits exactly the right spot, send me over the edge. The orgasm rips through me, more powerful than the ones before it.

My inner walls clamp down on him as waves of pleasure crash over me. Through the haze, I feel Cole stiffen above me, his own release overtaking him as he groans my name.

For a long moment, we stay locked together, our bodies trembling with aftershocks. Eventually, Cole carefully withdraws and disposes of the condom before collapsing beside me on the bed. He pulls me against his chest, his arm a heavy, comforting weight across my waist.

I snuggle against him, my face pressed to the solid warmth of his chest, his heartbeat gradually slowing beneath my ear. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, and I feel utterly content in a way I haven't in months, maybe years.

A strange thought occurs to me as I lie there in Cole Carter's arms: in all my daydreams and fantasies growing up in Silvercreek, I never once imagined myself here, being "Cocky Cole's" girl, even for a night. Yet somehow, it feels right. Natural, even.

I close my eyes, letting the steady rhythm of Cole's breathing lull me. Tomorrow, I'll worry about what this means, if anything.Tonight, I'll simply enjoy the unexpected perfection of being exactly where I am.