Avery followed, slid her arms around his waist, and pressed her body against his. “Baby, you just threw over-the-counter Tylenol and Advil down the drain like it was arsenic without bothering to look at the labels.”
He cut a look at her over his shoulder.
She lifted her brows. “The nurse wanted George to have enough to get through the night in case you didn’t have any at home.”
His eyes slid closed, and he hung his head.
Avery let him be for a minute, resting her cheek against his back, stroking her hands across his abdomen. “I know why you did what you did then, but why don’t you tell people how it happened now? Why hold on to the ex-con stigma?”
“You make it sound like something I want.” His voice carried more disgust than anger. “All you ever hear from cons—in or out of prison—is ‘I’m innocent.’ ‘I didn’t do it.’ No one believes them.”
“I’ll believe you,” she said softly. “Tell me what happened.”
He turned, gripped her waist, and pulled her between his legs. After a heavy sigh, he said, “My dad hurt his back while he was taking care of my mom during her treatment. That’s when he first got the pain meds. It was also when the first hints of his dementia showed up. Between his depression over my mom and forgetting whether or not he’d taken his own meds, he got hooked.”
Avery closed her eyes, so easily envisioning the sad situation. “Oh, Trace . . .”
“I didn’t know how to take care of my mom or my brother, and I was convinced my dad would get killed in prison. When I was twenty-two, those fears were very real, and I didn’t see any help on the horizon. When I was twenty-two, I didn’t know what prison was like or how much it would change me. When I was twenty-two, I didn’t know how being an ex-con would label me for the rest of my life.”
He released her waist and slid both hands down her arms. “Which brings me to the topic of us.”
Avery was already shaking her head. She curled her hands into his shirt. “Don’t even.”
“It’s the smart thing, Avery. You know it. Your entire business model is based on word of mouth. And your entire future is based on this business. After today, the gossip will be flying. If you quash it now, you’ll minimize the damage—”
“I’m not going to lie. And you said it yourself, the floodgates are already open. There’s no getting that water back in the dam. If you want to stop seeing me because you want to stop seeing me, that’s one thing. But I’m not going to live my life based on what other people think. I tried that with David and his parents, and no matter what I did, I still never lived up to their expectations. So walk away from me if you don’t want me, but you’ll have to tell me to my face.”
He curled his fingers around her forearms and dropped his head back on a groan of frustration. “You know I want you.”
Avery scanned the quick pulse at the base of his neck, scanned the way his muscled chest and arms pushed at the cotton of his long-sleeved tee and grew hungry. “Yeah,” she breathed, grinning. “And it thrills the hell out of me.”
She slipped her fingers beneath the hem of his shirt and scraped her nails low on his belly. He flinched and laughed, the sound filled with wicked desire.
“While you’re thinking,” she said stroking her hands over all the taut, warm flesh of his abdomen, “I’m just going to . . . snack.”
She bent her head and pressed her open mouth to his belly.
He flinched again. “Avery, I can’t think while you’re doing that.”
“Mmm, that’s too bad. ’Cause I sure can. I can think of all the things I want to do to you.” She let her hands slide all the way down his abdomen, into his waistband, and flicked the button of his jeans open. “I can think of all the new things you’re going to teach me.” She dragged his zipper open. “Maybe your brain needs some stimulation.”
She pushed her hand into his jeans. Pressed his cotton-covered erection into her hand and let her eyes fall closed on a moan. “Well, lucky you. I had to go commando all morning.”
He groaned. “I didn’t need to know that.”
“I think you did.” She pushed his boxers clear of the thick head of his cock with hunger tightening her chest. “Mmm.”
Without hesitation, she took his head between her lips and sucked. He was warm and smooth and hard. His familiar musky, salty taste teased her tongue, and his moans of pleasure fulfilled her ingrained desire to please.
Each time she took him in her mouth, she discovered something new. But today it felt like everything she’d learned in the past coalesced—the wet slide of him between her lips; the hard pressure of him against her throat; the rub, push, and pull of him all through her mouth; the supremely male, intensely intimate taste of him on her tongue. All the sensations layering over the sounds and sights of pleasure she brought him was a wild and heady thrill. One she could easily become addicted to.
“Baby . . .” His voice was soft, filled with barely restrained passion, and his hands threaded through her hair. “You have work—”
She opened, drove him deep into her mouth, closed down, and sucked hard.
“Holy fuck.” He arched, and his hands closed in her hair. His hips bucked, pushing him deeper into her mouth.
A smile curved her lips as she slowly pulled back. Satisfaction radiated through her chest, and pleasure coiled between her legs. Oh, yes, this was dangerously good.