Play with Me (With Me in Seattle 3)

Because I don’t think it will.

“Meg, look…”

“No, you look,” she cuts me off, her hands in fists on her lush little hips, fire coming out of her eyes.

I’ve pissed her off.

“You don’t get to drop that bomb on me and then just ride off into the sunset, never to be heard from again, Will Montgomery. And if you think you’re breaking up with me, you have another thing coming.”

I love it when she’s pissed. But the knot in my stomach hasn’t eased yet.

“Will,” she starts and takes a deep breath, “I love you more than you will ever understand.”

The breath leaves me, and I can just stare down at her, my jaw dropped to my knees.

“What?”

“Of course I’m in love with you, Will.” She swallows and closes her eyes. Before she can say another word, I take her face in my hands, the touch of her skin a balm to my frayed nerves, and make her look at me.

“I don’t want you to say those words just because you’re afraid I’ll break up with you without them.”

Her eyes smile up at me and for the first time in the past few hours, a calm settles over me.

“You’re smarter than that,” she murmurs in her sweet voice. “And you know me better than that.”

I pull her up into my arms, nudge the car door shut with my foot and carry her inside her tiny house.

I plan to sell this townhouse and move her in with me as soon as possible.

Which means next year, because she’s so damn independent. God, I love her.

I carry her into her living room and sit on her couch, cradling her on my lap. Her eyebrows climb into her hairline.

“I thought you’d be taking me upstairs.”

“Later,” I respond and trace her lips with my fingertip. “First, talk to me.”

She sighs and bites that lower lip.

“I couldn’t tell you I love you because in my life, that’s always meant that people would leave.” She shrugs and blinks, trying to hold back tears, and it’s like a fist clenching my heart.

I hate it when she cries, because she rarely ever does.

“Go on,” I whisper and smile down at her. I love the way her small body feels in my arms, all soft and small and like she’s meant for me.

“I think I loved my mom when I was small. I don’t really remember,” her brow creases as she thinks. “But I was taken from her, and honestly, I’m thankful because that was for the best. But then I was tossed from foster home to foster home. I met Leo in the first one, and I latched onto him like he was a lifeline, because for me, he was.” She looks up at me with pleading hazel eyes, begging for me to understand, and I think I’m finally beginning to.

“He was the first person I’ve ever had in my life that was truly family to me. He took care of me, and was kind to me, and didn’t want anything from me.” She swallows, and brushes the tears on her cheeks. “But then I was taken out of that first home, and Leo was taken away from me. Thank God I didn’t lose touch with him.”

I cradle her to me and let her talk it out.

“It was always made very clear to me in each of those homes what my place was, and it wasn’t as a part of the family I was staying with. I was relieved when the state emancipated me at sixteen and I could go live with Leo.”

She pulls back and looks up at me. “But then, after I’d been with him for years, and we’d had the band and done well, he decided to take the band and go to L.A. to try to make it in the business.”

“Why didn’t he take you with him?” I ask.

“He insisted I stay here and pursue my nursing career. He knew I was good at it, and I’d worked so hard for it. And I think he could see the toll the long hours of working and then playing gigs on the weekend was taking on me. He didn’t want me to quit.”

I frown down at her. “I hate to say it, but that makes sense, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, now it does,” she agrees and nods. “But then it just felt like another person I loved, the most important person I loved was leaving again.”

“I’m not going to leave you, baby,” I don’t care if she can’t stand that nick-name. “I love you so much, Megan.”

She cups my face in her hands, the way she always does, and pulls her fingertips down my cheeks, her eyes happy. “I love you too.”

Sucker punch to the gut.

“Say it again,” I whisper.

“I love you too, Will,” she whispers.

I stand with her still in my arms and carry her up the stairs to her bedroom and set her on her feet. With my fingertips, I push the straps of her dress off her shoulders and watch it fall off her delectable body and pool on the floor at her feet.

“Fucking hell, you’re naked under there.”

She’s standing before me in just her black stilettos and diamond earrings, and it’s all I can do not to come in my pants like a fucking teenager.

She smiles shyly. “You’re entirely over-dressed.”

“Undress me,” I demand, holding my arms out to my side, but she shakes her head and sits on the bed, then scoots on her ass to the middle of the mattress, leaving her heels on.

“I wanna watch,” she responds with a sassy grin, showing off that dimple.

“So damn lazy,” I smile down at her and can’t get out of this goddamn suit fast enough. Her eyes darken as they roam over my nakedness and I smirk at her.

I will train every day for the rest of my life to keep that look in her eyes when she looks at me.

Finally naked, I climb onto the bed and cover her small body with mine, her hips cradling me, my elbows on either side of her head, brushing little wisps of hair off her forehead with my thumbs.

“I love you,” she murmurs with a happy smile.

“God, I’ll never get tired of hearing those words come out of your sexy mouth, babe.”

She chuckles and grips my ass in her hands. I tip my head down and kiss her, gently at first, and then harder and roll us so she’s straddling my hips.

She sits up straight and rocks her hips, rubbing her already wet pussy against my cock. I suck a deep breath in through my teeth. “Easy, baby, or I’ll come before we even get started.”

“Really?” she looks happy with herself as she continues to torture me, the little vixen.

“Megan,” I warn her, and suddenly she’s scooting down and sucking on my cock, jacking me off at the same time and I jack-knife up on the bed. “Holy fuck!”