lose control. Resting his weight on his elbows, Cason’s mouth finds mine, his kiss as eager as his movements. He’s screwing me. Fucking me like we don’t have much time, or tomorrow.
I’m here to tell you, we might not.
Maybe there’s no tomorrow for us.
His pace breaks, his pumps quicker, deeper, and messier. “Fuck,” he gasps, his hips twitching. He pushes into me, long, punishing strokes I can’t get enough of, and here I am, bare to him in the worst possible lighting a kitchen has to offer, and completely oblivious to everything else around me.
I feel him everywhere, our sweat cementing us together, and his cock so hard and thick inside me. Breaking the kiss, he sucks his way down my neck, so hungrily.
Time slows down, for me at least, and I watch him as his orgasm takes over, merciless and grunting hard with each thrust. The raw noises get louder and louder, the closer he gets. It’s breathtaking to witness him so vulnerable.
He groans into the curve of my neck when he comes, fisting my hair in his hand as he empties himself inside me.
Steading his breathing, his thrusts slow, and he lifts his head and kisses my nose.
He fucked me on my kitchen island. And I need to bleach it later.
Time stretches between us for a minute before he sighs, his eyes moving above me. “Can I have one of those bananas?”
I burst out laughing like it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.
AFTER CASON LEAVES, I pick up Tatum from school and stop by the mailboxes. At this point, I’m sure you can imagine my terror for opening my front door and my mail.
Warranted if you ask me and guess what?
Today was one of those days.
Sadie stops by after class as I’m bringing Tatum and the mail inside and carrying the last of my inventory from my shop before handing over the keys today. As depressing as it is to see that part of my life ending, I think maybe I’m meant to be here, working from home again and closer to Tatum. She needs me. And her talking snowman.
I look through my emails and orders from my website. I have sixteen pending orders that basically wipes out all my Wilderness collection I have that’s inspired by the Pacific Northwest. I love that collection, and up until now, it’s never sold very well.
Scrolling through the orders, I look at who ordered them, and I’m not surprised. Cason. Sixteen paintings. My heart beats faster as I look at the shipping addresses. Washington. Louisiana, North Carolina…. He’s sending paintings to everyone in his family. But why?
I set my phone down and remember the mail.
Despite my amazing morning with Cason, reality slips back in, and that weight returns as I stare at the envelope.
It’s from the bank, and I’m not sure I want to open it. Can you blame me?
Sadie scrunches her nose and sets two bottles of wine on the counter. “Why does it smell like bleach in here?”
Yes, I bleached the hell out of my kitchen island. “I cleaned,” I mumble, the music from Frozen starting up in the background. With a sigh, I pick up the letter from the bank.
“What’s that?”
“It’s from the bank. Probably about the foreclosure?”
Sadie shrugs. “You paid it, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but maybe they wouldn’t accept the payment?”
“Nahla would have said something.” She nudges me, working on one of the wine bottles. “Remi wants to come over.”
“Are you asking if you can have a play date?” I snap, tearing open the letter.
“No. I’m just letting you know she asked about you, and she’s worried.”
“She should have thought about that before she fucked my husband.” My heart stabs me. I know, you’re thinking, Syd, your heart doesn’t have a knife. It can’t stab you. Well, my heart is talented and made one from my ribs because that ninja bitch stabbed me. I’m sure of it by the pain radiating through my upper body. That’s what it feels like when I read the letter.
Collin’s accidental death policy has already paid out.
But not to me. And they can’t tell me who without a power of attorney.
Again. It’s a good goddamn thing he’s dead because if you’re think, when’s this bitch going to snap? That time is now.
A strong throwing arm.
SYDNEY
“I fucking hate him!”
“I think I hate him more than you do,” Nahla says, reading over the insurance policy and the letter the bank sent. Collin had changed his beneficiary there too, but not to Tatum.