when he clamped his lips over her aching bud and sucked, she was wrecked.
She was still spasming violently when he got up and hastily undid his trousers to release himself.
Soon her butt was braced on the edge of the sink, and her legs were wrapped around his waist while he pounded into her. She came again, and then again…and was on the verge of a fourth climax when he swore.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, I forgot the condom.” He withdrew and gripped himself tightly as he tried to stave off his orgasm.
Charity didn’t think about it. She was on her knees and had him in her mouth before either of them could take another breath.
“Fuck!” He cupped her head, and she lifted her eyes to stare into his straining face. “Jesus. I can’t…Charity. I can’t…”
She smiled at him around his length before closing her eyes and sucking him deeply into her mouth and down her throat. She relished the salty sweet taste of him, the size of him…one of her hands crept up to the rigid muscles of his abdomen and the other cupped the smooth, heavy sac at the base of his penis.
He groaned. The sound was long and low and helpless. And, knowing she had him right on the verge, she withdrew until she had only the tip of him in her mouth and scraped at the sensitive underside of his glans with her teeth.
He muffled a cry and came. Copiously, almost violently. His entire body remained in spasm while he emptied himself into her mouth.
And Charity, who had pretty much despised this act during her marriage, moved a hand to the sensitive, throbbing spot between her legs and strummed herself to completion.
She wasn’t sure how it happened, but they wound up sitting side by side on the floor, backs braced against the dishwasher. His arm was curled around her shoulders, and her head was slumped on his still heaving chest.
“That was fucking phenomenal,” he said.
“It truly was. And well done on winning the bet.”
He chuckled, sounding drained.
“Thank you, Mrs. Cole. I do strive to please.” He paused for a beat before adding, “Well…I guess that takes care of dinner for both of us.”
Charity choked. She lifted her head to stare at him incredulously and burst into laughter.
He grinned and then began to chuckle and before long he, too, was laughing helplessly. His rich, deep guffaws a masculine counterpart to her girlish, carefree giggles.
And in that moment of sheer unbridled joy…Charity fell hopelessly, helplessly, head over heels in love with him.
And that terrified her because she didn’t want to love anyone. Not now. Possibly not ever.
Not while she was still the wrecked woman of Blaine’s creation.
“Can you tell me about the day he died?”
The words were quiet and fell like unwelcome stones into the cold, silent darkness of night. Charity and Miles were cuddled up on the love seat on the patio, warm and toasty beneath the patio heater. Stormy was curled up on Miles’s lap, and they were all bundled beneath a blanket and staring out at the dark, still lake.
They were sipping hot chocolate and after a lively debate about the potential direction of the Terra Arbor Chronicles, talk had drifted to Miles’s telephone conversations with Vicki and his mother that afternoon. After which they had lapsed into a comfortable silence.
Until now.
Her brow furrowed as she watched the lights from the dock ripple on the surface of the black water. She didn’t want to think about that night. Not while she was warm and safe and happy.
“Why do you want to know?”
She felt his throat move beneath her head as he swallowed heavily.
“I looked him up. I’m sorry. I know it was an unforgivable intrusion but I wanted to find out more and I know it was wrong but…” His voice tapered off, and Charity silently mulled over his disjointed confession. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him prying into her private business, but he already knew more about her than anybody else, and she found that she didn’t mind as much as she thought she would.
Instead, she was curious about what he had found. She had never read any of the news articles, or the sympathy posts on social media, not even the cards that a few—very few—of his parishioners had sent to her. “Looked him up how?”
“The Internet. It wasn’t easy. I thought his last name was Cole.”
“I didn’t want his name. I reverted to my maiden name when I took this job.”
“He killed himself? I