Читать книгу Her Rebound Guy - Jennifer Lohmann - Страница 17

CHAPTER SEVEN

BECK HAD BEEN right about not needing to fake her orgasm. The force of it—brought on by Caleb’s magical tongue—should have put her right to sleep. Should have, but it didn’t. Instead, she lay in bed all night—Caleb breathing softly next to her and Seamus snoring softly on the floor—wondering what she was going to do in the morning.

Was this a one-night stand?

I’ve never had a one-night stand. But I’ve got nothing against them and I’m supposed to be trying new things. No reason a one-night stand can’t be a new thing. I’ve never had one, though. You’ve never been divorced before, either. The goal is not to figure out your future based on one night. You don’t even have to know now what you’re going to do come morning.

You don’t have to decide anything now.

And so it went. All night, in an exhausting bout of self-doubt and confusion.

Though not exhausting enough to put her to sleep.

But by the time Caleb had woken up and his hand had reached out for her skin, she knew that she was going to end their relationship as soon as they got out of bed. Trying new things, not pinning her hopes on one stranger...all of those things were fine, but company, companionship and sex with no end goal in sight was not something she wanted.

The one thing she wasn’t confused about was how much she had missed having sex. And an orgasm was definitely on the list of things she wanted, and Caleb was good at giving them, so she pushed herself into his exploring hands and reached out to do a little exploring of her own.

* * *

CALEB PRACTICALLY SLID out of Beck’s bed, uncertain if his legs would hold him. Three orgasms in the span of twelve hours would do that to a man. “Mind if I clean up a bit?” he asked over his shoulder.

“You can take a shower, if you like. There are extra towels in the cabinet. I’ll make coffee.”

Beck’s voice had an edge that cut through his fog of sex and morning and had him turning around to face her, suddenly conscious of how naked he was. “Is everything okay?”

She was resting against the headboard, the sheets pulled up to her neck, hiding a magnificent pair of breasts. Clearly, he wasn’t going to have those nipples in his mouth again this morning, but he hoped for the next weekend. Maybe another night this week, if they could both swing it with work schedules.

“I didn’t sleep well,” was all she said. The vague sentence didn’t answer his question, but he didn’t push. Mornings after were weird. Being divorced for a couple years hadn’t made them any less weird, though it had made him more forgiving of how other people reacted when they woke up to find a stranger in their bed.