Miss Matched [COMPLETED]

21. Tayla

Being forced to confront the truth of how deeply Simon has wormed his way back under my skin should switch off my desire. I don't want to feel the things I'm feeling for him. I sure as hell don't want to be admitting them. All the alcohol in the world can't seem to drown out the truth. The connection we had six years ago hasn't been lessened by time and distance. I loved him then, and it would be so easy to love him now.

"If I can give you the triple crown of orgasms, will you let me sleep here?" He kisses along my stomach, his hand working magic on my core.

I let out a husky laugh. Why does he think I told him to bring Rex? "A three-peat? You could probably ask for anything you want."

"I'm holding you to that," he murmurs before his tongue flicks along my clit, and I moan, lifting my hips, begging for more. And boy, does he give me more.

After the second orgasm, he stares at me with a hint of a smirk. "Triple crown, coming up." Competitiveness comes naturally to him. In this case, who am I to complain?

"You think I'm that easy," I murmur while he sheaths himself.

"Not easy," he says, cradling my body as he slides into me. "Just always worth the effort."

Whether it's the endorphins or the alcohol, when he eases out and back in, and our gazes connect, my stomach flutters. His green eyes are soft, the way he used to look just before he told me he loved me. The memory lodges in my throat. I run my hand along his cheek, searching his face. Does he love me? How can he? Do I love him? My stomach clenches at the thought. I can't. I won't.

His forehead touches mine, and then we're kissing and moving in sync. He draws me closer, tighter, and unbelievably, my body begins to coil again, ready to spring free once more. Any thoughts other than how good he feels inside me fly out of my mind. I want this. I want him. Nothing else matters.

"You feel so amazing," he rasps.

"Don't stop," I murmur, digging my nails into his ass, keeping him pressed tightly against me. "Don't ever stop." I want this feeling to go on and on. Somehow, I want him to convince me we can have this again for more than these three weeks. I want to cling on, even as I'm freefalling over the edge, tumbling into another orgasm. When I cry out, Simon holds me closer, his breathing ragged in my ear and races over the edge with me.

~ * ~

"If I get out of this bed," Simon says from beside me. "Am I going to come back to find you fully dressed and watching TV in the living room?"

"I have to work in five hours." I throw my hand over my face, my body so spent, I'm not sure I'll be able to move even in five hours.

"I'll be right back," Simon says, throwing back the covers. He patters around the en suite and leaves the room before coming back with Pixie cradled in his arms.

I forgot about the puppy. What kind of vet am I? Totally forgot I have a dog, or at least, a dog for now.

"You're doing a great job with her," Simon says, sliding under the covers next to me, and slipping his arm across my middle, tugging me against him.

"She comes to the clinic every day. Sandy does half the training, I swear." I turn my head to stare at him. "What happened with Jada?" The question comes out without being filtered in my brain first.

Thank you, two bottles of wine.

He tenses. "I told you—"

"I don't want to know in a week, or tomorrow, or any other time you decide. I deserve to know." I turn to face him, and the room spins for a second. "You can't tell me you want more, that I'm worth the effort, and every other thing you've said over the last week and a half and keep the one thing I still need to decide whether you're worth the effort, whether I want more." Even as I say the words, I realize his answer might not matter. I'm in too deep.