Home > Ready for You (Ready #3)(39)

Ready for You (Ready #3)(39)
Author: J.L. Berg

I didn’t hesitate. I reached for the small nightstand next to my bed and pulled open the drawer. I blindly searched around until I found what I was looking for. Mia didn’t say a word about the supply of condoms in my nightstand. I didn’t divulge any information either. This was not a night about sharing our past or creating a future. This was only about the present—here and now.

After ripping open the condom with my teeth, I sheathed myself quickly. I peered down at Mia, who was watching in heated fascination. I bent down and kissed her, fusing our mouths together, as my fingers ghosted down her lush body, stopping at the edge of her panties. I slid my fingers under the waistband, and then I broke our kiss to remove the last piece of clothing off her body until all I was left with was Mia.

She was even more breathtaking than I remembered.

This would haunt me until the day I died.

She pulled me down and wrapped her legs around my body. I felt my dick at the slick entrance of her core. One thrust, and I would be home again. I cupped her chin, stared into the eyes of the woman I’d gave my soul to when I was nothing but a child and silently told her everything I wanted to say but would never be able to again.

I love you. I’ll always love you.

She gasped as I entered her, and in that instant, I felt my heart restart, firing and kicking into gear as it found its missing piece. Pausing to savor the moment, I kissed her again and felt her hands grip my shoulders.

Our kisses, like our lovemaking, became impatient, making up for lost time. Soon, I was devouring her, slamming into her, as she cried out my name over and over again.

“Garrett! Oh God, yes!” she cried as her nails dug into my back.

“Say it again,” I growled.

She cried out my name one last time as she climaxed, spasming and squeezing my c**k like a vise, which sent me over the edge into my own spiral of pleasure.

I spent the rest of the night trying to make the evening last forever, so we wouldn’t have to leave that bed. If I could keep the sun from rising, I would never have to give her up. I worshipped her body—sweet and slow, hard and fast, over and over—until we both passed out from exhaustion.

But I was no miracle worker, and even I couldn’t outwit the sun.

Chapter Sixteen

~Mia~

I awkwardly juggled the plate of freshly baked goods and casserole in my hands and tried to press the doorbell.

What if she was just being nice at the funeral and wasn’t really happy to see me?

Was there still time to run?

I looked at the huge mound of food in my hands and glanced between my car and the door.

No, I was an adult. I could do this. This was what respectable people did when someone died. They showered the family with food and sympathy. I would not run with my cowardly tail between my legs just because I’d run out on her son eight years ago without so much as a phone call afterward.

Garrett.

His name flashed through my mind like a tidal wave, bringing back glimpses and memories of our passionate night together. I could still feel his touch on my skin, his warm breath on my cheek as he’d whispered in my ear, and his quivering body as he’d rocked deep inside me.

It had been a few days since I’d snuck out of his apartment in the wee hours of the morning, leaving his tender touch into the eerie solitude of my own home. I’d fled his bed, rather than face him. I couldn’t bear the thought of him saying the words I knew I deserved to hear. He didn’t want me and never would. Our night was just that—one night—and it would never be more. So, I’d thrown on my dress and run.

I hadn’t heard from him since. My floors were done, so there wasn’t any reason for him to come by. I didn’t know why I’d expected anything different. We’d tried to be friends, and we had ended up in bed together.

The door I’d been staring at finally opened, and I found myself face-to-face with Laura Finnegan.

“Mia? Is that you behind all that food?”

I laughed a bit. “Yes, Mrs. Finnegan. I came by for a visit. I hope you don’t mind. I guess I should have called.”

She waved her hand and hushed me, inviting my pile of food and me inside. “Don’t ever think you need an invitation to come over here, Mia. You’re like family—no matter how long you decide to stay away. And no calling me Mrs. Finnegan, you hear?”

“Yes…”

She gave me a stern look and waited.

“Mom,” I finished.

She grinned in satisfaction.

Her kindness humbled me. Garrett had obviously never told her about what had happened between the two of us. If he had, she would hate me.

“Much better. Why don’t you help me put that stuff away, and then we can catch up?”

I nodded, and we headed for the kitchen. It was weird being back in Garrett’s childhood home. It was the same but completely different. The kitchen had been thoroughly remodeled and renovated. It now appeared more modern and updated. There were pictures of Garrett and Clare’s family everywhere, including Clare’s first husband who had passed away. Knowing I hadn’t been around to help Garrett through the death of his brother-in-law hurt. I knew he and Ethan had been close, but I was glad Clare had found love again.

“Now, what did you bring me?” she asked.

“Well, I brought some muffins from this place Leah had told me about—Phil’s. I told the owner I was a friend of hers, and he loaded me up with so many muffins that I thought I was going to double over. He threw in the casserole for free. I didn’t cook any of it, so you’re safe. I’m a terrible cook.” I was a babbling, nervous mess.

Laura smiled and gave me a wink. “Phil is such a sweet man. He’s got a soft spot for Leah. It would drive Declan mad if Phil wasn’t as g*y as they come. Leah mercilessly flirts with him for free muffins and coffee.”

She put the casserole in the fridge, and I saw several others in there. Then, she pulled out two muffins for the two of us and placed them on pretty floral plates. She brewed some fresh coffee, and we took our matching floral mugs and muffins into the living room.

I took a nibble and then drank a bit from of my cup before I got the courage to ask, “How are you doing?”

She sighed and took a long sip of coffee, holding on to the cup for warmth. Outside, it was blazing from the late summer heat, but inside, there was a lingering chill from the overworked air conditioner. I held my cup as well, savoring the heat.

“It’s getting easier to come to terms with it each day. The loss, however, hasn’t lessened. I’ve been told it never will. It just gets easier to deal with.”

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