“And if you haven’t figured it out by now, I don’t give a fuck.” He pushes his fingers into my hair, angles his mouth over mine, and licks my bottom lip once, sending a current of electricity over my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut, like that will somehow block the sensations quaking through every cell of my body.
His tongue laps at the corners of my mouth. He groans and captures my bottom lip between his, sucking at me, alternating force and gentleness, leaving me unsure which I want more. I clench my righ
t fist on my thigh, the only sign of resistance I can muster, but it’s not enough. Not when he pushes the popcorn away and grips my waist and brings me incrementally closer until we’re pressed together and our hearts bang on each other’s chests, one demanding entrance from the other.
“Your heart’s racing,” he says, an echo from years ago. He drags our linked hands to his chest. “So is mine.”
“Jared, we can’t.”
“I am.”
He tilts my chin just so, tugs my mouth open, and kisses me. With his dominant nature, I expect an invasion. Maybe I could have resisted that, could have prepared for that, but his mouth tenderly begs, and our tongues desperately tangle. This propulsive force has me leaning into him, has my hand clawed in his hair. Has me fucking his mouth. And I can’t stop. I’d forgotten how he tastes, but this moment under a star-spangled sky, this moon hurls me into retrograde. Backward so many years to our first kiss when he exploded across my senses and detonated any coherent thought with one stroke of his tongue.
Air cools my leg when he lifts my skirt, his hand lighting up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh on the inevitable journey to my pussy. He barely brushes me through my panties, and my muscles clench, anticipating his touch. I can’t even manage to feel embarrassed that my panties are already soaked.
“I want to finger you,” he rasps over my lips. “Can I, Ban?”
Dios mío, ayúdame.
God, help me.
But there’s no help. No salvation. Only the sin of this moment, of my dreams. I want to wake up. When this happened in my dreams, I woke up and I was beside Zo. He was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware that I was wet-dreaming about a man from my past. A man from my present. But Zo’s not here, and I can’t remember why I should deny myself what I know Jared will give me. What I’ve been aching for ever since he re-entered my life. I nod my permission quickly before I change my mind, widening my thighs to make it easy for him. He slips his thumb beneath the wet silk and runs it over my clit.
“Jesus.” I jerk, and his mouth is at my shoulder, his tongue soothing the burning, naked skin. With his free hand, he tugs one string of my halter until they both flop down over my breasts. His eyes never leaving mine, he strokes my clit again and slowly slides his middle finger inside. The erotic contact between our eyes is as potent as that one finger finding passage inside of me, over and over. With every unblinking stroke, I’m closer to giving Jared the surrender I promised Zo only he would have.
“Jared, we have to . . .”
Stop.
The word won’t leave my mouth. It’s trapped behind my teeth. Anything that would stop this, would stem this, even my fear of getting caught, being seen, freezes and everything else runs hot. Goes green. Begs him to floor it. With the strings untied, he nudges my dress down with his lips, and cool air kisses my nipples. He stares at them, swallowing so hard I see his throat move in the dimmest moonlight.
“God, Banner,” he says hoarsely, lifting his eyes to penetrate mine. “How could you not see how beautiful you are?”
His words undo what’s left of my resistance, and I pull him down to my breast, needing to give myself to this man who has always seen me. He opens his mouth completely over my nipple, pulling on me in a steady rhythm. Biting my breast, rubbing my clit, pumping his middle fuck-you finger into the hungry hole between my legs. My hips roll into him, seeking him, urging him to do his worst. He shifts to my other breast and adds another finger.
“Come on my hand,” he says, his voice confident and pleading. “Show me how you look when you come. I’ve never seen it.”
In the dark. We made love in the dark before, and we’re in the dark now, but there’s just enough light for me to see his beautiful face and just enough light for him to see mine.
So I show him.
“Ah,” I cry out, heedless of the few cars parked around us while my body dissolves for him. I bite my bottom lip and frantically ride his hand, pleasure spilling from my body onto his fingers.
“Say my name,” he demands. “Who’s doing this for you, Banner?”
“It’s you.” Helpless tears slip over my cheeks, tears of passion and regret and shame and joy. “God, Jared, I know it’s you.”
17
Jared
Banner is avoiding me again. Sending my calls to voice mail, ignoring my emails, not replying to text messages. Saturday night should have been a step forward, but we backslid like a wayward believer, and I don’t know how to move us in the right direction.
Right direction may not be accurate. There is nothing right about systematically plotting to take another man’s woman. I won’t call it the right direction. It’s my direction, and I know it’s ultimately where Banner belongs. And after what happened at the drive-in, I have no doubt it’s where she wants to be.
Here’s the thing about falling for a good girl: they have all these rules. And qualms. And the worst? Guilt. She has all this integrity that gets in the way of what she wants, which is me. But I won’t allow it to get in the way of what I want, which is her. So we’re at an impasse where she avoids me, slinks back into her comfort zone with Alonzo.
Fuck that shit. If she thinks I’m letting this go, letting her go again, she’s delusional. I know. I’m the one who sounds crazy, but that is not the case. What’s crazy is denying yourself something this special. I’m living proof that ruthless people who don’t give a fuck want special things, too. And I’m taking mine.