Wrecking Ball (Hard to Love 1)
“I have pants on,” I say in a huff.
“No problem,” the sexy bastard murmurs. He takes the crotch of my lounge pants between his fingers and rips the seam open as easily as if he were opening a bag of chips. I’ve never been grateful for tinted windows before, however, at the moment they’re the best thing mankind has ever invented. At my astonishment, he smiles…smiles like he never has before. It’s big and white and stretches from ear to ear and all I can think is that I want to make him smile like that at least once a day for the rest of our lives. Lifting his hips, he pushes his pants down his thighs and his gorgeous dick springs free. I sigh…I sigh because I know what he can do with that gorgeous dick and a stupid smile grows on my face too.
His hand reached between us while his gaze, burning brightly even in the dark, holds mine. He pets me slow and steady, his touch determined, like his whole purpose in life is to get me off. God, how I wish that were true. It feels like every ounce of blood in my body has traveled south. The man’s got some mad skills. He knows exactly how to get what he wants. He wasn’t exaggerating in the least. He spreads the slickness he finds between my legs over me and himself. Then, canting his hips, he pushes inside of me, never once breaking eye contact. The air in my lungs rushes out of me. We sit there, wedged together, without moving for a minute. I’m so filled up I have no leverage.
“I love you.” The words are pushed out of me as easily as he pushed in, with zero resistance. Because what’s the point of holding back? He either feels the same, or he doesn’t––either way, no regrets.
Grabbing my face again, he kisses me as if kisses are words and everything he wants to say is on his lips. And then I can’t wait another second, I hook my arms around his neck and bury my face on the side of his throat. He digs his fingers into the soft curve of my butt and begins to jack his hips up and down powerfully. It doesn’t take long for me to come. He follows immediately afterward. We stay wrapped up in each other for a long time, joined in every way we can possibly be. Now that I think of it, even when we’re not touching it feels like we’re joined. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much when we’re apart.
The film of sweat between us cools, leaving me cold and vulnerable. Without a word, he grabs his t-shirt and slips it over my head. The feather on the Seminole logo falls over my nipple and he runs the pad of his thumb over it, my entire body shuddering in response. He cups my face and tilts my chin up, our eyes tangling.
I’m not a fan of words. Not since the man I thought I would spend my life with used them to deceive me the last five years of our marriage. In my experience, words are cheap and disposable. Give me action instead. I’ll even take silence over promises that risk being broken. The fact that Cal hasn’t yet told me how he feels doesn’t bother me. He can keep those words tucked inside all he wants because his eyes are screaming his love for me.
“What was it that you had to give me?”
Surprise flashes across his face, followed closely by a lazy grin. He reaches into the back seat and grabs…
A sports bra. A sports bra?
“You came here…at two thirty in the morning…to return a sports bra?”
“I thought you might need it.”
“I thought you said––” I brush my lips on his. “You were going to burn all my bras because it was a crime to hide these,” I say, pointing to my boobs. And then I positively melt at the goofy grin he gives me. Mooning over a gorgeous man? Hmm, sounds familiar. Maybe I am my mother’s daughter after all.
“Come home with me,” he murmurs. The smile slides off his face and his expression turns seriously intense. It’s my turn to cup his face, to brush my thumbs gently across his cheeks.
“You know why I can’t.” He looks so torn it breaks my heart. “I’m not trying to punish you. But I can’t compromise on this. I won’t let someone else’s needs kill mine––not anymore. I’m different now, and you have something to do with that.”
He exhales harshly and brushes his face with his palm. Then he pats my hip in a signal to scoot over. I slide off his lap, back onto the passenger seat, while his body slips out of mine; the messy evidence of our lovemaking everywhere.