The desperate words were almost her undoing. Her inner muscles worked, squeezing, wringing his cock, eager for increased friction and pressure.

He arched his throat on a moan. “I feel that. You want it, too. Let me go.”

“I set the pace.” She shifted, easing out a fraction and then coming down and seating herself fully, grinding on him and rocking her pelvis.

Leaning down, she kissed his throat, inhaling his scent, scoring the taut skin with her teeth. She trailed kisses all over his throat and collarbone, loving the salty taste of his skin. At his ear, she bit down on the lobe and lifted her hips, treating him to another slow and easy pump.

A hoarse, broken cry was her reward. As she came back down, she squeezed tight around his hard length, gasping at the friction. His fingers dug into her hips, hanging onto her like his life depended on it. His head rolled side to side on her couch, sweat beading his forehead. She had never felt so empowered—or so utterly feminine.

His jaw clenched, a muscle feathering the taut flesh of his cheekbone. She fanned her fingers against his cheek, kissing him and savoring his mouth before sliding her lips along his square jaw in a flurry of kisses.

“Huntley,” he begged in a voice she had never heard from him. From any man. Arching, she began to rock her hips, moving above him sinuously, sinking down slowly and dragging back up. She reached a hand around her and cupped his balls, squeezing them gently in her fist.

He surged up, his hips lifting her as he came in a guttural cry, releasing himself deep inside her, his fingers digging so firmly on her hips she knew she would bear marks later.

He collapsed back down, his face slack with pleasure, eyes closed. His beautiful chest slick with perspiration.

She dropped over him, their bodies glued to each other, breathing as one.

“As far as fucking goes, that might have been … the best.” His voice gusted over the top of her head.

She smiled, supremely satisfied with herself. “I might have to agree.” Her fingers rested on the hard plane of his stomach, tapping lightly.

His voice rumbled over the air. “I’m going to miss this.”

Her satiated smile slipped at the drop of his words.

Why the hell had he gone and said that?

Did he find it necessary to remind her that this wasn’t permanent? That it couldn’t be lasting? She hesitated for a moment before pulling away. Without looking at him, she snatched up her top and pulled it over her head, not bothering with a bra.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She looked at his face, not quite meeting his eyes. “Nothing.” As she slipped on her panties, her gaze grazed over him on her couch. Every gorgeous inch of him that wasn’t hers. She blinked against the sudden burn in her eyes.

He propped up on his elbows, watching her closely. “You just went from hot to cold in ten seconds flat. Is it what I said?”

“No. It’s nothing.”

Nothing except that he seemed eager for her to move back to Georgia. It would make all of this easier. Give whatever this was between them an end date.

She stepped into her leggings, her movements stiff with anger.

His dark eyes narrowed. “Let’s not bullshit each other here. If you’re angry say it.”

“Fine. I’m angry.” She planted both hands on her hips, feeling liberated at admitting it.

“Really? You’re mad?” He shot up off the couch, standing in front of her without a care in the world for his nakedness. “Because you’re the one talking about moving right after we started sleeping together. I’m not the one leaving.”

She stared at him, outrage washing over her. “Beck and my family want me to move back. I—I haven’t decided.”

“Any why not?” he accused. “Why haven’t you decided, Huntley?”

This was it. The moment she could declare herself and say: I’m not going. I’m staying because of you. Just a few words, but they terrified the hell out of her and stuck like a golf ball lodged in her throat. What if he didn’t feel the same way about her?

She squared her shoulders, her pride surfacing. Why couldn’t he say it? Nothing was stopping him. Why did it have to be here? Why did she have to take the risk?

Cullen watched her, unblinking, his eyes fastened on her face. His naked chest lifted on a breath and his eyes cut her like glass, dark as night waters. “Maybe you should just go.”

The words cut, burrowing deep. She watched his face carefully. Nothing. His expression was impassive.

“Maybe I should.” The words tumbled out of her, a stupid mistake the minute she said them and yet she couldn’t take them back.

They stared. After a long moment, he turned, grabbed his shirt off the floor and tugged it over his head. He snatched up his briefs and jeans next. “You need to do what’s right for you, Huntley. What makes you happy.”

The words weren’t issued with any heat. There was no anger in them. On the contrary, he actually said them kindly. Magnanimously. But they still felt like the cruelest jab.

He didn’t care.

She nodded stiffly. She wanted him to be selfish. To demand she stay for him.

Her chest hurt, the ache there so intense, so stabbing and profound. Like nothing she had known when she and Jackson broke up.

He nodded. “Let me know if you need any help moving.”

She sucked in a deep breath. That was the final nail in the coffin. He had actually offered to help her pack. This guy did not want her around. At least not badly enough to try and persuade her to stay.

She blinked burning eyes and turned her attention to tidying up the couch cushions.

Why did they have to sleep together? Sex always ruined everything. At least friendships. If they had kept their hands off each other, she wouldn’t now be facing a move. A pang punched her in the chest and she rubbed at her breastbone, her fingers massaging the tender area.

“Will do,” she replied through suddenly numb lips, not bothering to correct his misapprehension that she was moving. It didn’t matter. He was out of her reach.

He nodded once, brusque, turned for the door, and stepped out into the night.

As soon as the door clicked shut, she dropped down on the couch. Dry sobs sucked in and out of her. She pressed one hand against her chest and closed her eyes in a long blink. Was there any choice in the matter? The moment Cullen made his move, her heart and body were his. Logic stood no chance. The fallout was unavoidable.

She lifted her chin and stared unseeingly ahead. Unseeing and yet seeing. She would live in close proximity to Cullen. She’d cope. Hopefully, they could still be friends.

Maybe someday they would even look back and laugh over their fling. She winced. It was hard to imagine that now, but maybe.

She’d stay here. This was her life. Her home. Even if Cullen wasn’t a part of it.

Chapter Eleven

Cullen stormed into his house and flung his keys against the wall. He dropped down on his couch and scrubbed both hands over his face before standing and pacing a hard line in his living room.

Had he actually offered to help her pack?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The knock at his door pulled him up hard. He stared at it for a long moment, then his heart kicked into gear, pounding like a drum. Huntley.

In two strides he yanked open the door and stared at Beck standing there.

“Beck,” he said numbly, his heart deflating.

With a tight smile, his friend walked into the house. He looked around before facing Cullen.

“It’s late,” Cullen said rather dumbly. “What are you doing here?” From his last glimpse of Beck, he didn’t think the guy would pry himself off Kenna until well into next week, but here he was. Alone.