Read Don't Let Go for Free Online

of random losers to Hayden. After my divorce I went solo for a very long time. Deciding that I was clearly not cut out for relationships, I focused on being Becca’s mom. Once I did start dating, it was small-time. Only one ever got close to being serious, and when it did, I doused it. I wasn’t looking for another husband, or even a significant other. So when Patrick sidled into my world with his no-strings-attached, let’s-just-have-fun sexual whirlwind, I was ripe for the picking. And he was fun.
    Fun.
    Like taking off on a motorcycle and feeling the wind whip by at eighty miles an hour, just to stop and eat pizza and have sex in a field kind of fun. Okay, we really only did that once, but it was so outside my box that I’d never forget it. Ever.
    We didn’t talk about our personal lives, other than the obvious surface things like he knew about Becca and he knew I owned a bookstore. I knew he had no kids and headed up a construction crew.
    That about summed up what we needed to know to make small talk during rest periods. Because we didn’t hook up for the stimulating conversation.
    I crawled back in bed, propping up on an elbow so I could stare at him. The new morning light peeking through the curtain was just enough to highlight all I needed to see. One arm was thrown over his head and his face was relaxed in sleep. He’d shaved for me because he knew I couldn’t stand the scratchiness, but the darkness was working its way back onto his jaw.
    Patrick exuded raw sex appeal. Anyone could say anything they wanted about his crude language and rough exterior, he was hot. And was a product of the life he chose. Construction guys don’t worry about what wine goes with what entrée, they are just happy that there’s wine. And they don’t call it an entrée.
    The sheet was tangled around him, a leftover result of the monkey sex we’d had around two. I traced a finger down his chest, in awe as usual of the muscle definition that continued into his abs. He was my age, roughly, or so I assumed. That was another thing we’d never actually defined, but although his body didn’t look it, I felt like he was in his mid-forties.
    He drew in a deep breath as the touch stirred him from sleep, and he opened his eyes slowly and blinked at me.
    “Hey, beautiful,” he said.
    “Hey, yourself.”
    He wound a finger around one of my locks and pulled me to him for a kiss. I dropped a light one on his lips and he chuckled.
    “You’ve already brushed your teeth, haven’t you?”
    I snickered. “Of course.”
    He nodded, eyes drifting back closed with a lazy smile. “Of course.”
    “Want some coffee?” I asked. “I just made some.”
    “Not just yet,” he mumbled. “I’m gonna go see if I can hit this dream up again.” I ran my lips lightly along his arm and then moved to his stomach, kissing the parts the sheet didn’t cover. “Mmm, but if you keep doing that—”
    “What will you do?”
    “Probably not much till you make me go brush my teeth.”
    I gave his stomach a nip and laughed as I pushed off the bed. I was restless. I’d already had two cups of coffee and showered, and aside from being naked was nearly done getting ready for work. Two hours earlier than necessary. It was like my skin couldn’t be still.
    I eyed Patrick’s flannel shirt where it lay over my chair in the corner and opted for my big floppy warm robe instead. As sexy as wearing a man’s shirt felt, that struck an intimate chord with me that I wasn’t interested in pursuing. I took the stairs softly, stepping around the creaky spots out of habit. Hearing the familiar ka-thump , I turned to see Harley, our pit bull, exit from Becca’s room. The giant brindle-coated teddy bear slept in Becca’s bed every night whether she was there or not. Although she could put on quite the guilt trip when she felt like the girl abandoned her.
    “Hey, Harley-bear,” I whispered, scrubbing her neck. She looked up at me with a doggie grin that warmed me