The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) by Carrie Thorne (mind reading books .txt) 📗

Rocking, heat radiated from her core, irreparably altering every molecule inside her.

As she climbed higher, grinding, pumping, she tightened around him. Grasping her hips, he met her gaze. Moving her faster as he thickened inside her, she soared higher and higher until an enchanted scream rose from her center as orgasm rocketed through her. He eased her pace, letting her slide up and down, riding the wave as the consuming sensation slowed to a vibrating simmer.

They moved fluidly together, building the foundation stronger as she still teetered on the precipice. Riding higher and faster, each thrust sent her a little further down the lane she knew she’d lose herself in as soon as she gave herself to him.

And she was having a bitch of a time regretting it.

Another orgasm rushed through her as they found their rhythm together, wild and fast and free.

Slowing together, spent, alive, she rested her body on his, skin against skin. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he didn’t say a word, mindlessly tracing his fingers over her shoulder.

As the intensity faded to a sweet snuggle, coherent thought managed to bubble into her brain. She nearly cussed and argued and ran away… dammit, this was exactly what she feared; addicting, vibrant, extraordinary.

8

 Stupid Pheromones

“No, it’s the stupid pheromones. I told you they would be the end of me.” Freya kicked off her shoes as they reached the beach, looping her fingers through the straps.

Tammy handed Freya back her coffee and gave her that maternal smile that had Freya confessing her predicament as soon as they’d stepped outside. “Honey, I know pheromones are a real thing. But I think you put a bit too much stock into what the rest of us call good chemistry.”

“Mom. Good chemistry doesn’t turn you into a blubbering mess like this. I mean, the man’s unstoppable. We already had to order extra condoms from room service. A toothbrush, now that’s an embarrassing thing to admit you forgot. But to call for more condoms?”

“Okay, good sex then. A healthy dose of lust. And maybe, now I know you don’t want to think about it, but maybe something more.”

“No. No no no. Not going there. That’s where my brain fizzles and I get caught up in everything him and start turning into one of those idiots that invests everything into the relationship and next thing you know it I’m sitting on the sidewalk with an overstuffed suitcase and mascara caked on my cheeks and about ten bucks in my pocket.”

“You’d better not have ended up like that, or I’d be offended you didn’t call me to come get you.”

“Well, not exactly that theatrical, but that’s what it felt like.” That wasn’t until after she’d thrown stuff at him and kicked him out, and then realized she couldn’t afford the place alone.

“It’s been one night. That doesn’t mean you’re giving anything up for this man.”

The breeze sent her dark waves in a chaotic spiral so she could hardly appreciate the gorgeous view. “Not yet. But I will. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again. I’ll get so caught up in the physical side, I won’t notice that he’s a jerk. We should settle down and have kids right away because that’s what he wants. Or I’ll let him take the last of my cerulean blue because he has to nail that sunset where my landscape is fine the way it is. Or give up my Christmas because he can’t leave his family.” She hadn’t even touched her coffee yet, too wired to risk the caffeine. “What if I do something really stupid and get engaged again?” Her eyes were wide, the scenery completely distorted.

Linking arms and steadying their pace, Tammy sighed, “Freya. Honey. I won’t act naïve and pretend you haven’t had enough lovers to not be so swayed by good sex.” Her mom’s cheeks burned red.

Freya stopped and took in extra air, the wind whipping her dress in a tangle around her legs. “I’ve had enough lovers to know it’s not supposed to be that good. Mom, I did things with him last night I would never even have thought of. I feel like I should write a book on the subject now to let others know everything they’re missing out on.”

Keeping her voice calm, Tammy said, “And what does Zane say about all this?”

“That he’s had a lot of time alone to develop some rather elaborate fantasies.”

Cheeks now as red as the hotel beach chairs, Tammy clarified, “I mean, is he looking for more?”

“No. He had a terrible divorce and never wants to get married again.”

“So what are you worried about?”

A nauseating wave rolled over Freya’s cheeks, “Even worse. What if I talk him into getting engaged? And then he’s resentful and I give up my own interests because I’m so caught up in him and he goes back into the military because I’ve spent all of our savings on a career that’s never going to pay off.”

Halting their walk, Tammy yanked back on Freya’s quickening pace, her voice sharp, “Freya. I love you girl, but your imagination has always gotten the better of you. Be the artist you are and experience the now. Feel what you need to feel. And when you’re satisfied, put down your brush. You can’t decide how you feel about the painting when you haven’t even finished it.”

“Wow, Mom, that was a nice analogy. I mean, I might have picked something a bit more germane, but…” She grinned a tease at her mother.

“Oh hush. I’m not the artist, you are. You figure it out.” Tammy bubbled over with self-effacing laughter, Freya’s mood lightening right along with her. “You will always be my independent daughter. No relationship is perfect; your father and I have had to compromise for each other, but we also build