I mold her closer, my hands sliding up her back and I rotate her, pressing her against the wall, fingers walking her dress up her thighs until thank you, Jesus, I have that sweet little ass of hers in one of my hands. My other strokes her hair from her face, forcing her gaze to mine. “What color are your panties?”
“They’re not red.”
“Then you didn’t expect me tonight.”
“I haven’t expected you in a very long time,” she whispers.
“Now you know to wear red.”
“Stop talking,” she says, grabbing my tie and trying to yank it free. It doesn’t budge and I pretend to choke.
“Oh God.” She laughs. “That went better in my head.”
Just that easily, the mood between us lightens, becoming this familiar push and pull of laughter and passion. “A for the effort, baby.” I rip my tie away and cup her head, kissing her. “Killed by a bow tie. Appropriate considering how much I hate these monkey suits, don’t you think?”
“I love you in a tuxedo.”
Love. That’s not a word she’s chosen accidentally, and I want to hear it again. “Do you?”
“Yes,” she breathes out softly. “Very much.”
There is so much more than a compliment in those words. There are a million moments shared between us just like this one. Emotions pulse between us. “I’ll take anything that isn’t hate that I can get from you.”
Her hand settles on my face, over my scar. “I told you, Rick Savage, I don’t hate you.” Her lashes lower and lift. “Okay, sometimes. Sometimes, I hate you.”
And I deserve that hate. It stabs me, cuts me, burns right through me. I deserve it, but I reject it here, now, and in the future. I scoop her up and start walking, with one destination in mind: the bedroom. Our bedroom where we’ve shared passion, laughter, and so fucking much more. Candace curls into me, buries her face in my shoulder, seeking shelter with me, not from me. Her actions tell me there’s hope. They also tell me it’s not certain. Not yet.
I walk us up the stairs and into the bedroom. The bathroom light is on and I don’t bother with another. I set her down at the foot of the bed, her back to my front, my hand settling on her belly. I lean in, folding her against me, inhaling that sweet floral scent that is so damn her, my lips at her ear. “I missed you so fucking much.”
She twists around to face me. “Don’t talk. Don’t say things like that because then I start thinking. I think things like: then why the hell did you stay away?”
I pull her to me, catch her hair in my fingers and turn her gaze to mine. “Then fuck the hate out, baby, because I’m not going to hold back.”
“I don’t want you to right now, Rick.”
“What do you want, baby?”
“You know what I want. What I’ve always wanted. You. Can I just pretend—”
“No. No, you cannot pretend. I need real from you, Candy, baby. I need real. If you hate me, show me. If you love me, show me.” I turn her back around, my mouth by her ear again, my fingers dragging her dress down. “If you want me, show me.” My hands slide under the dress to settle on her bare shoulders. “And I’ll show you.” I slide the dress off her shoulders, and before it’s even on the ground, her bra is unhooked and it’s on the floor.
I cup her breasts and lean into her. She reaches for my face, reaches for my mouth, and then we’re kissing, lips burning into lips.
She twists around to face me again and I’ve already molded her to me. “You are not his.”
“You can’t just come back and suddenly I’m yours.”
“Just say—”
“I want you. I missed you. I just don’t trust you not to leave again.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fuck,” I murmur, and I’m angry. So fucking angry. And not at her. At me. I kiss her hard and fast and turn her to the bed. I press her forward onto her hands, her beautiful backside in the air, and I grab the slip of black lace she’s wearing and rip it away.
She gasps and I smack her backside. She arches forward and I lean forward, my body caging her body, and I show her the panties. “You wore them for him. They’re trash.” I throw them aside.
“I didn’t wear them for him.”
“Just like you didn’t wear that ring for him. Don’t move.” I lift off of her, pressing my hand between her shoulder blades and smacking her backside again. She gasps and arches into the touch. “Did you let him do that to you? Did he figure out how much you like it?”
“Stop, Rick. Stop talking.”
I push off the bed and unbutton my shirt just far enough to pull it over my head. She twists around to face me. I kick off my shoes and unbutton my pants. “Don’t worry. I heard. You’re on birth control.” I finish undressing. By the time I’m done, she’s naked and perfect, and pissed off, while my cock juts between us because I’m thick and hard and just as pissed off.