Crazy Sexy Love (Dirty Dicks 1)

I know now I can’t fuck her out of my system, like I thought I could when I first got back, and I don’t know what option that leaves me. But I can’t get myself to focus on any of that.

Just as she makes it to her truck, I step up behind her. I push the door shut, spin her around, and press her back against it. Here she is: Monroe Danielle Gallagher, the only woman I’ve ever loved—soaking wet, chest heaving, and body tight with restraint.

We lunge for each other at the same time.

Our mouths slam together as her fingers slide into my hair. She turns my head and plunges her tongue into my mouth. I reach for her shirt, my hands slipping under the hem to find her soft, warm curves. We move together effortlessly, as though this is something we’ve done every day for the last six years.

She moans into my mouth, her body melts against mine, and any and all control is lost. We’re a frenzy of hands and lips and teeth, grasping at each other, trying to get closer. My right hand slides down her back and along her hip, and when I grip her ass, she wraps her legs around my waist. My left hand rests at her lower back, holding her to me without putting too much stress on my shoulder.

“Shit,” she huffs, trying to wriggle loose, but no way am I letting her down. “Your shoulder—”

“Is fine. I just need you to hold on, Mo. Tighten those pretty legs around me and don’t let go.”

Her arms and legs cinch around my body, and she’s latched onto me like a spider monkey. Fingers curled in the hair at the base of my neck, Mo guides my lips to hers as I move toward the front door.

The cool rain falls in waves, soaking us to the bone, but it does nothing to calm the heat radiating from our bodies.

“What about Coop?” she asks against my lips.

“Not here.” We fumble our way into the house. My mouth slides down her throat, and Mo’s head falls back, exposing the milky skin of her neck.

“We should talk, right?” she pants, holding my head to her neck as though she’s terrified I’ll move.

Not a chance, sweetheart.

“No.” I nip at her skin while kicking the bedroom door open, and once we’re through, I nudge it shut and flick the lock.

“I don’t want you to regret this in the morning.”

“Mo.” I lower her onto the bed, and she scoots to the center, propping herself up on some pillows. Her eyes are bright as she watches me with naked vulnerability. “The only thing I’m going to regret is if I let you walk out of here. I forgive you for what happened. I know it wasn’t entirely your fault. Nikki took advantage of your pain.”

Her chin drops to her chest. I imagine she’s waited six years to hear me say that, and if she asked, I’d repeat myself over and over until she believed the words.

I tip her chin up to look at me. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“No more lies, baby. If we’re going to move forward in any capacity, there isn’t room for anything but the truth.”

She nods, moisture pooling in her eyes, and I kiss her. This time isn’t hurried like the last. This time I slow it down a notch, promising with my mouth all the things my heart has yet to say.

“Rhett?”

“Hmm?”

“Make love to me.”

“Plannin’ on it.” Pushing up from the bed, I kick off my shoes and slip her sandals from her feet. Her eyes follow my every move. Careful not to lift my left arm too high, I reach behind my head and pull my shirt off. When I reach for my sweats, she sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes glued to my cock as I let my pants fall to the floor.

“Your turn.” I crawl onto the bed, her eyes searing through me. When I undo the button of her shorts, she lifts her hips, allowing me to pull them off, along with her white cotton panties. Sitting up, she reaches for the bottom of her shirt, lifts it over her head, and flings it off to the side.

“You are so beautiful, Mo.”

The last time I looked down at her like this, sprawled out in front of me, I was too young to appreciate her—too young to understand the depth of what she was giving me. But that’s no longer the case. I’ve dreamed of her many times over the last six years, but my fantasies didn’t do her justice. Nothing compares to having her in my bed—hair fanned out, chest heaving, creamy skin begging for my mouth. I have to reach out to touch her to make sure she’s real.

I slide my fingers over her abdomen. The muscles contract beneath my touch.

She looks down, but I shake my head. “No, sweetheart, keep your eyes on me