Page 108 of The Perfect Distraction

They treated the rest of the night as if they were both aware of the time slipping away, not just the weekend but the entire summer. They went upstairs and undressed without saying a word, and the instant they slipped beneath the sheets, they reached for each other.

They’d made a lot of love over the weekend, but this time was different. The passion was there like always, but now there was a silent understanding too. It was like they were savoring each other, taking note of every nuance, and marking each other with their hands, lips, and tongues.

When he finally entered her, she clung to him, wrapping her arms around his back and her legs around his thighs and pulling him forward as far as he could go. She’d read that some women cry after they climax from a combination of the physical and emotional release, but she’d never experienced it until then.

They were still entangled, his head resting on the pillow beside hers, when she felt a tear trickle down her cheek and onto her shoulder. Colton’s eyes were closed, so he didn’t notice, and she was just as glad. She didn’t want to explain why it had happened and risk blubbering all over him again. She’d already made herself vulnerable enough, so this time, she decided to keep her emotions to herself.

Thinking he might already be asleep, she started to rise, but he popped his head up.

“Where are you going?”

“To clean up. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” he mumbled and closed his eyes again.

They hadn’t turned on any lights in his bedroom, but she already knew the lay of the land. She padded into the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the light. The reflection in the mirror startled her.

I look like a hot mess! Sure enough, there were red marks where his stubbled chin had rasped against her—on her chin, neck, and breasts. Her hair was all over the place, and there was a telltale sign of the tears she’d shed in the smudge of mascara below her right eye.

But what she noticed beneath it all was the rosy glow in her cheeks, the brightness in her eyes, and the lack of tension in her body. The signs were all there. She was a woman in love.

After she’d cleaned up and run a brush through her hair, she slipped back into the bedroom. Once again, she heard Colton breathing rhythmically, but this time, she prepared herself for an ambush. Gingerly pulling back the sheet, she climbed into bed, expecting him to pop open his eyes and tackle her. But his breathing didn’t change, and he didn’t move a muscle.

Sliding beneath the warm sheet, she nestled close and studied him for a few minutes, the rise and fall of his chest, the flicker of his eyelids, the tilt of his chin. She noted his messy hair and a couple of red marks where she’d dug her fingernails into his shoulders. But just like her, he looked peaceful, satisfied, and content. The idea that she had something to do with that made her smile.

I’m not falling in love with him. I’ve already fallen. And that was her last thought before she drifted off to sleep.