Page 58 of Quarter Miles (Runaway 3)

I planted my hands on his chest and lifted myself and as I slammed down again, he thrust his hips upward, going so deep I gasped. The tip of his cock hit a spot inside that made me whimper. My hands went back to my breasts to tug at my nipples as we rocked into one another, up and down, until my legs trembled and I chased my release with reckless abandon.

“Ride me, Kat.” His hands dug into the curves of my hips, the roped muscles in his forearms flexed tight.

Faster and faster, I rode him, just like he’d demanded. My orgasm came without warning. I shattered, my entire body clenching as stars exploded in my eyes, blinding me from reality. I cried out, reveling in the best orgasm of my life and the feel of Cash’s roaming hands as I pulsed around him, over and over and over.

I was still riding out the aftershocks when Cash flipped us in a swift spin. He dropped a soft kiss to the corner of my lips, then took my hands in his, lacing our fingers together at our sides.

This man was made to pleasure women. Hovering above me, his eyes darkened to caramel and hunter-green gems, he was unabashedly seductive. His body was a work of art and strength.

The roughhewn, captivating mountains of Montana, the dynamic, awe-inspiring beaches of Oregon. No matter where I traveled in this world, nothing would ever compete with the view of Cash in this moment.

Sunshine streamed through the window like it had the first time we’d been together, illuminating his features. I memorized the sound of his hitched breath. I studied the way his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip every few strokes and the soft hum he gave me when I flicked his nipples, the sound sweeter than any song or symphony. I took a mental picture of the way he looked when his eyes drifted closed in ecstasy, his sooty eyelashes sable crescents against his tanned skin.

I savored every second, knowing that we were racing toward the harrowing end.

Cash’s eyes locked with mine, the shaking in his body the only warning he gave before coming inside me in long, hot strokes. I didn’t blink for fear of missing a second of the rapture that played across his face.

Spent from his release, Cash collapsed onto me, his body as limp as my own. When he’d regained his breath, he shifted to the side, releasing my hands and circling me in his arms, my back flush against his damp chest.

This was why our friendship was over.

I’d never be able to look at him again and not think about how perfectly we fit together. I’d never get a whiff of his cologne without remembering how it smelled mingled with mine.

Cash took a long inhale of my hair, holding me closer. “We should go home.”

Except home wasn’t the same anymore and I wasn’t in a rush to face it.

He held me until the sweat from our bodies cooled and the growling of his stomach drove us apart. “I’m going to take a quick shower, then maybe we can get something to eat.”

“Okay.” I nodded as he kissed my temple. Then I pressed my nose into the pillow, taking one more moment to remember how he’d felt inside me.

The water in the bathroom turned on and I slid off the bed, my legs wobbly, and hurried to dress. Before Cash could stop me, I rushed from the room, easing the door closed as quietly as possible.

Leaving him so I could find a place to cry.

Alone.

* * *

“You ran away.” Cash dropped to the beach to sit beside me. The strands of his hair were damp from the shower.

“Sorry,” I said, my voice raspy with unshed tears.

I’d come out to the beach to cry but the moment I’d plopped down in the sand, I hadn’t had the energy. Because my tears weren’t going to make this any easier and at this point, I needed to save my strength.

Cash had been right earlier. It wasn’t fair to abandon the Greers and take a spur-of-the-moment job offer. But I was going to move out of his house. I was going to stay in the staff quarters for a while. And I was going to start mapping out what my future looked like.

Without him as the constant of my universe.

“Did I do something?” he asked.

“No.” I looked at his profile, melting at the concern in his voice. “I just needed some air. It’s been a string of emotional days.”

He huffed a laugh. “It’s been less than a week since we left. Feels like longer.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, turning to the ocean.

There were families building sandcastles. Couples taking selfies. Not a soul on the beach was without a smile, except for the two of us.