Relentless (Renegades 4)

Her tone shot the sizzle of oh-shit across his skin. He took a closer look at her face and found those blue eyes serious and intense and determined. There was no sidestepping that expression.

He set the knife down and wiped his hands, trying like hell to keep his eyes on her face. God, he was such a damn animal. He couldn’t think about anything but touching her and kissing her. About doing things to her that made her moan and gasp and scream. About pushing inside her, again and again and…

“Okay,” he said, and pressed one hand to the counter, stabilizing himself for…whatever.

She licked her lips. “I need to know” —her eyes flickered away for a split second—“if you only like sex when you want to fuck.”

His mouth dropped open. His brain hit a wall. He narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I know that’s direct, but I can’t spend days here with you expecting one thing only to find out another. I’d rather just know up front so I can…just…deal with it.”

Her voice was matter-of-fact, soft, understanding, not the curt, cold tone the words implied.

She crossed her arms and met his gaze again. “So, is that what you want now? Fucking? No emotional connection when you’re having sex? I mean, I get it. It’s safer. You’re not putting yourself out there. I…put you through a lot when I left. And it’s probably the only way you could operate in those clubs—”

“I don’t go to those clubs.” He cut her off, confusion over this strange ramble drawing frustration. “I go to that one club—occasionally.” He gripped the granite with one hand, pressed the other to his hip. “I’m sorry. What is this about? I thought we were on the same page about the club—”

“I don’t have a problem with the club or why you went or what you did there.” The thin veneer of control she’d been using slipped, and hurt frustration seeped through. “What I have a problem with is your disinterest in sex as we get closer. Because as good as sex is between us, that’s not what I want—just sex. Because…because…”

Tears filled her eyes, flooded over, and spilled down her cheeks, and Troy had a sensation of time speeding out of control without any idea of what was happening. He put his hands on Giselle’s arms.

“Baby, slow down…”

She shook her head and met his gaze head-on. “Because I love you. I love you,” she said again with more intensity, more purpose, as if confirming she’d said it the first time, “and I can’t just have sex with you. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to, because the more I get to know who you’ve become over the years we’ve been apart, the more I realize all I’ve missed, and the more I’m sure that I don’t want to miss another minute. I want all of you.

“But I know this is all happening fast, and I know there are unsettled hurt feelings between us, and if you aren’t sure or if too much has happened or if we’re just too different, and you can’t love me back…” She closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. “Shit, I shouldn’t have gone there. I want to tell you it’s okay, but… Shit…”

She pressed her hand to the middle of her forehead. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Ellie.” He gave her a shake to stop the ramble. Holy shit, he was only half-sure she’d just told him she loved him. Twice. His heart was on a freaking trampoline. “Just…stop for a second.”

She did that adorable thing with her lips, where she curved them over her teeth, her eyes on the floor. The exact same expression she’d had coming into their foster home that first day. The day he’d fallen in love with her.

Now, his heart was beating just as hard as it had then. A dozen damn years later, and the girl owned more real estate in his head and his heart than anyone else in the universe.

“Baby…” Emotions overwhelmed him, and he didn’t think letting them spill all over her now was such a great idea. So he picked something tangible. “I’m trying really hard to show you my better side, the side that has been blown completely out of view by every damn shitty thing I’ve done since I saw you again. Our time here isn’t about sex, El. We already know we are absolutely, utterly, perfectly compatible there. So if you think I’m not interested in you because we’re getting closer emotionally…” He stepped in, took her hand, and pressed it to the rigid line of his cock through the canvas of his shorts and rubbed the length. Lust rushed his groin, and he clenched his teeth. “Think again.”

He deliberately pulled her hand off him and wrapped his arms around her, taking hers with them and trapping them behind her.

With her big blue eyes looking up into his and her damp wheat strands framing her gorgeous farm-fresh face, he said, “I’m carrying as much guilt for the last two weeks as you seem to be carrying for walking away. What do you say to calling it even and starting fresh? You and me loving each other as the people we are now and leaving all the other shit behind?”

Her eyes turned smoky. She pulled one hand from his grip and reached between them, pulling her towel loose. It dropped to the floor, and the last twenty percent of Troy’s blood rushed south.

“I’m on board,” she said softly, sliding her free hand into his hair and pushing to her toes. “Make love to me, Troy.”

The breath whooshed out of his lungs. There was no thought required in responding or fulfilling her request, simply letting go of all the restrictions he’d placed on himself and loving her the way he wanted to.

He groaned as he tilted his head and took her mouth. She opened immediately, warm and welcoming.

Home.

She was home.

Always had been. Always would be.

His ribs ached. His eyes burned. He needed her, all of her, and he needed her now. She wrapped her arms around his neck, taking the kiss deep, stroking her tongue into his mouth and circling, plunging, licking. Practiced, knowing, rhythmical, they kissed like longtime lovers, like they’d never been separated, like they fit perfectly, two puzzle pieces. The woman’s mouth made him dizzy, but she was the one to sway toward him, pressing and rubbing that beautiful body against his in all the right places and in all the right ways.

“Baby…” he moaned between kisses. “Jesus.”