Page 49 of Finally Moore
The world spins as I’m now on my back, with my ankles by my ears and Scott’s body still between my legs, fucking me to the hilt as he slams himself inside me. His pelvic bone hits my clit and—
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” I let out a deafening cry before everything goes black.
I blink until the room comes back into focus. “Shit,” I groan. Scott’s dressed and I’m tucked into bed. “How long was I out?”
Did he seriously make me black out from coming so hard?
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Not long.”
“Why do you have clothes on, then?”
“Okay,” he concedes. “Maybe for a little while. But you looked so beautiful passed out I didn’t want to bother you. But it’s noon, and I have to meet—”
“Noon?” I bolt up in bed. I’ve never slept this late before, not even as a teenager. I grab my phone and see a gazillion missed messages from Hannah, plus a couple from my mom and Trisha, probably reminding me of our appointment this afternoon. “Fuck.” I scramble to get dressed.
“Sorry, if I heard—”
I press my lips to his and silence his unnecessary apology. “It was on silent. Besides, if it was really bad, she would’ve come knocking.”
He lets out a relieved sigh. “Okay, as much as I hate to go, it looks like you have work to do—”
“Yeah, and so do you, Mr. Puts-Tral-Lake-On-The-Map.”
He presses a kiss to my lips with a chuckle. “We’ll see. In the meantime, don’t work too hard.” I quirk my brow, and he adds, “I’m going to want dessert before bed.”
Chapter twenty
Scott
Whatdoesitsayif I’m out with one of my all-time favorite actors, touring my little town, pitching it for a movie his friend wants to make—a huge potential boost for tourism, my business, the whole town’s income—and all I want to do is rush back to Scarlett’s little cottage and drown myself in her?
If it weren’t for the fact shehadto go and take care of stuff for the inn, I would have played hooky, called ingettinglaid. I know Scarlett wouldn’t have batted an eye if I suggested skipping her spa day with her mom. Besides, let’s face it, Jax is the one with the eye and I’ve just been pretty much tagging along for the ride.
“This is beyond incredible,” Kasey says as we stand at the top of Make-Out Point.
I wonder if Scarlett would let me drive her up here and fool around in the back of my pickup like a couple of teens?
I never got to experience that growing up, and now I’m grateful for it, because no crush of mine from back then can even begin to hold a candle to Scarlett Valentine.
“I mean, it legitimately looks like a postcard up here.” Kasey grins as he takes in the view.
“I actually had postcards made up with shots I took last year. I have a whole pile of 'em back at the store,” Jax says. He’s become the town’s official photographer and the primary source for producing picturesque advertising images.
“Did you ever watchYours for Christmas?” Kasey asks.
“Only a hundred times,” Jax fanboys, and Kasey chuckles.
“All the equipment in the world at our fingertips, the ability to digitally enhance every shot with picture-perfect blankets of snow, and none of it can begin to compare to this view right here.”
“If you film during January, I can promise digital enhancement won’t be needed. By then, we usually have a decent buildup of natural snow. It’s too cold to melt, and almost every day or two, an extra half-inch is added on top,” I chime in.
“That’s exactly what Fletcher needs. He wants somewhere genuine, raw… He’s tired of these spruced-up sets that have been regurgitated countless times.”
“Well, if he’s seriously interested, I can help put the pitch together. I know several members of the committee are highly motivated to find new ways to improve our economy and boost tourism, so the interest is there. But from experience, I also know that they usually want the cons upfront. If we lay it out straight for them, I’m sure they’ll go for it. Especially since any minor inconveniences caused by the influx of people and equipment while filming will occur during our quiet season,” Jax says.
Kasey smiles and shakes his hand. “You’ve got a deal. This is perfect.” He gazes back out onto the horizon. “I should bring Trisha up here. She would love it.”
“Really?” I ask, shocked. Not that the woman’s said much to me, but based on how many layers of clothing she seems to wear every time I’ve seen her, I assumed winter wasn’t her thing.