“I realized—too late, I might add—that I shouldn’t have run away from you. I know I’m not my father, but sometimes I allow that fear to creep in that I could be. I never want to be the person who makes you cry, but I realized I already did that when I left you. I didn’t consider your feelings or what you wanted. I only cared about myself and what I felt. As soon as I realized I fucked up, I knew I had to apologize and beg for your forgiveness. There’s nothing more I want in my life except you and a chance to be worthy of your love. I’m begging you to give me another chance to prove I deserve having you in my life.”
“Dylan,” she whispers, and the sound of my name guts me.
She’s going to turn me down.
I’ve fucked up way too much. The cut is too deep to climb out of, no matter how much I apologize or what I do. Some wounds are too big to overcome with a simple apology.
She leans into me, her hand on my face, caressing my skin. “I want this. I want us. You don’t need to beg. I just want honesty, and you’re giving that to me. But I need you to hear me and understand—you did not hurt me the other night, no matter what you saw on my back. You need to trust me to tell you if I’m ever worried or in fear, and I’ll trust you to tell me when you’re scared or panicked. You need to stop running and settle in and allow yourself to be happy.”
I cup her face in my hands, breathing hard and fast. “You’ll give me another chance?”
“I don’t know if I’ve even had time to give up on you. I hoped you’d come to your senses eventually, but I was pissed that you didn’t talk to me and I was worried you wouldn’t open up. But yes, I’ll give you another chance. I feel safe with you. Safer than anyone else has ever made me feel.”
“I promise to be worthy of that feeling, Ro. All I know is whatever is happening between us, it’s too powerful to throw away. It’s too strong to ignore. The pull to you is something I’ve never felt with anyone else.”
“There’s something magical here,” she whispers.
“Is that what this is?” I ask.
She nods. “I think so. I don’t know any other way to describe it.”
The moment is too heavy, an emotion I’ve never done well. “So, I’m the best you’ve ever had?”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“We’ve been over that and agree. But seriously, the best ever?”
She smacks me playfully. “I don’t know. Let’s try again and see if it was a fluke. I mean, maybe you’re awful at—”
I move quickly, covering her mouth with mine. “Lies,” I murmur against her lips. “I’m the best you’ve ever had and will ever have, baby. You’re mine now, and I’m going to make sure you’re ruined for any other man.”
“Challenge accepted,” she murmurs back, and we fall into a kiss, long and deep, as if the last few horrible hours never happened.
21
ROSIE
“Wait,” he says. “Not so fast.”
His hand is on mine, tugging my fingers away from his belt. Slowing me down from what I want.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. I don’t move my hands away, but I let the strength of his grip hold me tight against him.
Now that this thing is real, now that we’ve put words to the mess of feelings behind us, I want to consume him. What is he waiting for? Is he doubting what we’ve shared?
His eyes flash, and he tightens his fists over my fingers. “We’re gonna take our time. This is different, you and me. Not like before.”
Before… Fuck, it was hot, raw, and rough. So rough. I clench my pussy just remembering the feeling of my back against the wall, his weight pinning me in place, his cock so deep that nothing except the sweat, the pressure, and the heat made sense.
A surge of arousal floods my core as I remember that night. But now…he wants different. Maybe he wants more.
“Okay.” I agree, and he releases me, but only so he can pull me into his arms and hold me.
“Never forget this.” He grits out the words as he presses his forehead to mine. “What this feels like. I want you chasing this high for the rest of our lives.”
“As if I could ever forget.” I whisper the words, but I know he hears them.
He closes his eyes and fists his hands in my hair, one hand on either side of my head. He moves my head so my chin lifts and my eyes close. I suck my lower lip into my mouth and wet it, biting down lightly to focus my brain on a single point of pressure, a single point of almost pain that will slow down the racing beat of my heart in my chest.
“If you do,” he grunts, “I’ll remind you. Always.”
With every heavy whisper, the heat of his breath feathers my skin. The scent of him, fresh air, clean bedsheets, and the smoky smell of his skin weaken my resolve to let him show me how he wants me.
To be patient is my torture, but I am. I must be.
I keep my eyes closed, my hair still firmly between his reverent fingers. I don’t need to open my eyes to know he’s closing in on my mouth. The electric heat between us sparks in the agonizing seconds before he takes me and claims me as his.
His first kiss is a tease against my lips. I lift my chin to taste more of him. I’m that starving woman at the banquet, my mouth open and hungry to taste it all, but he feeds me nibbles, little tastes. My lower lip between his teeth. The flick of his tongue to open me.
I have to be patient, to sample his lips, soft as they explore mine.
“Baby,” he groans. “I want to savor this. Take my time. When you make that sound…”
I hadn’t even realized I was humming, a half-begging moan as I kissed him back. I giggle. “It seems only fair. I was ready to tear your pants off a minute ago, but you stopped me.”
“Too much talking,” he says, bending his mouth to my neck. “I wanna hear that sound again.” He flicks his tongue along the curve of my neck. “Fuck, yes,” he hisses. “That’s the way, wildcat.”
I lose myself in the scorching power his lips have over my body. I grab the back of his head and press my hips against his, arching my neck back to give him access to more of me. I extend myself like an invitation—he can have it all. I’m his, body and soul. Heart and mind. His lips mark my neck, and then I feel his teeth, his tongue, nibbling and teasing my skin until my skin pebbles and my knees tremble.
I can feel his cock through his jeans, straining against the denim, pressing against the front of my blouse. I take the throb of his erection against me as an invitation and reach a hand between us, ready to palm him through his pants, but he stops me again.
“You first,” he insists. “But I want to watch.”
“Watch me what?” I ask.
He stands and steps away from me, and it’s as if someone has thrown a blanket over the sun. A different kind of chill invades my body, but he doesn’t break our contact for long.
He puts two fingers under my chin and lifts my face so our eyes meet. “Take off your shirt,” he says. He crosses his arms over his massive chest and waits.
I whip the damn scrap of fabric over my head and toss it aside. His face is pure lust. My bra is sheer; my nipples pebbled hard; the dusky outlines easily visible through the barely-there lace.