She wasn’t stopping this. She couldn’t. He was too talented, and she wanted it too much.
“This is just sex.” She twisted her fingers in his thick hair.
“This is our bodies following the demands of our hearts.”
“I bet that line gets you laid every time.”
“My heart”—he sank a finger inside her—“never felt a damn thing during sex. Until you.”
“That’s a lie. Everyone’s heart pounds when they fuck.”
“My heart pounds when you walk into the room.”
“You’re deranged.”
“No, merely in love. With you.” He nipped her inner thigh. “Hurry up and love me back so we can do this without fighting.”
“You can’t love me, Tommy. I’m too broken.”
“If you’re broken, I’m broken. Christ, you look good enough to eat.”
With his shoulders wedged between her legs, he stared at her cunt. Then he caressed her, stroking wickedly and stealing back, gentle around her opening and firm thrusts straight through the center.
Her eyes rolled back in her head, her entire body shaking with the need to come.
“You’re not thinking through this.” She gasped, clenching around his curling fingers. “You love women.”
“I love you.”
“You love pussy.”
“Yours, no question.”
“Do you love my pussy enough for it to be the only one you touch for the rest of your life?”
“Yes.” He met her eyes. “I’m one-hundred-percent devoted to the stunning artwork between your legs and the beautiful stubbornness between your ears. So much so that I will answer these infuriating questions honestly every time they arise for the rest of our lives.”
He buried his face in her cunt, scattering her thoughts on the tide of her gasps. The heat of his breaths was heaven, his lips firm, the voracious strokes of his tongue exceeding her desires and filling her with more.
Blazing light spread beneath her skin, stirring and shimmering and lifting her higher, higher, higher. Just as she reached the brink of climax, he pulled back. His heat, his kiss, all touch was gone.
“Tell me you need me.” He stared at her, his mouth glistening, waiting.
Stunned, she stared back. Confusion crashed into realization and simmered into outrage.
He was trying to control her through orgasm denial? Kissing her with an agenda? Toying with her to get what he wanted?
Fuck him. She refused to surrender like a doormat. She also knew she would never win this fight. He had the stamina and willpower of a superhuman machine.
No more games. She was done.
Done with the manipulation and the cheating and the emotional pain.
“I don’t need you.” She reached between her legs to get herself off.
He watched her hand but didn’t smack it away. His body tensed, but he didn’t overpower her with his strength. Didn’t try to dominate her in his Draconian way. Something flashed across his expression. Disappointment? Frustration? But he didn’t leave.
Instead, he lowered his head and placed his mouth against her hand. His tongue joined her fingers. His fists gripped her thighs, holding her open, and before she could process the unexpected turn of events, he pushed her, hard and fast, through an unstoppable climax.
Rippling waves of pleasure poured through her, trembling her limbs, her moan of completion one of barely contained victory.
But she didn’t feel victorious.
She felt like shit. Made worse when he pressed a loving kiss between her legs.
His eyes lifted to hers, blinking, raw, stark with vulnerability. “You’re not the only one who’s afraid of getting hurt again.” He pushed off the bed and stood before her naked, open, his hands hanging at his sides. “It scares me how much I need you.”
I need you.
Three words, so simple and ambiguous, reached into her chest and shook her. They sneaked under her guard and gathered up the most broken parts of her.
I need you.
“Ten years ago,” she said, voice cracking, “you wrote those words to your girl.”
“And my girl heard them. She listened to me. She was there for me. I need my girl to keep doing that. I need you, Rylee.”
“I’m not…” She pressed her fingers to her brow and released an anguished breath. “You were livid because I invaded your privacy.”
“I’m an idiot.”
For a man who’d spent most of last week glaring instead of talking, she couldn’t fathom what the fuck had changed.
Except she knew.
He was telling her, showing her, and she just couldn’t accept it.
“Someone else could’ve bought Caroline’s jacket and logged into her account,” she said. “I could’ve been anyone. You can’t hinge this on the emails. Why do you need me?”
“You challenge me at every goddamn turn. You keep me in check, never backing down. You don’t cower in the face of fear, not even when you’re trapped under a bed and hunted by a hitman. You’re crazy as hell, but you have a levelheaded grip on your moral compass. You think your heart is subtle? That you don’t show it or share it with anyone? That’s not true, Rylee. I watched you cry for your neighbor. You cried for that motel clerk. And you cried for me when I burnt Caroline’s house.” He dragged a hand down his brow, his nose, his mouth. “As if all that wasn’t enough to send me off the rails…” He looked up, his gaze touching, stroking, heating her body. “You’re so wildly, immeasurably, astonishingly beautiful it physically hurts.”