“I’m judging me,” she said softly.
“You left your wedding because it was the wrong thing for you. You don’t really believe that you should have stayed and married him just to stay in that inner circle, do you?”
Something twisted inside of Zander at the idea of her leaving Autre and potentially going back to New Orleans to her family and to that world. To Brantley.
“I was in a position that not just anyone has access to. The ones who do don’t use their power and privilege that way. They take advantage. They enable. They look the other way. Or they don’t think what these people do is a problem. I thought I was a rare combination of aware, appalled, and able.”
“You were.” He agreed with her. It was unusual for someone who benefitted from a system to want to dismantle that system.
“So, if I’m not there, accessing that inner circle and keeping watch, who will?”
“You can’t go back and marry Brantley because you think they need a watchdog.”
“I…” She pressed her lips together. Then continued quietly. “I don’t know what else I can contribute.”
“Contribute to what?”
“The world. Everything.”
The emotion that had twisted itself in Zander’s gut tightened again, and he realized it was like. Along with a hefty dose of concern and I-want-to-take-care-of-you and tell-me-all-your-stories and I-want-to-help-you-feel-fulfilled.
Yeah, he liked her.
She was slightly misguided. She was privileged. She was naïve about how the system really worked. But she wanted to do the right thing, she was willing to put herself out there, take some risks, and give up some of her privilege to get justice. She wanted to be a champion for animals that didn’t have anyone else looking out for them.
“What?” she finally asked after he’d stared down at her for several long moments.
He was fighting with himself.
And he knew he was going to lose.
“You’re…”
“I know.”
He huffed out a soft laugh. “What did you think I was going to say?”
“Annoying. A pain in the ass. Some variation of that.”
“No.”
She did look surprised then. “No?”
“You’re…remarkable.”
Her eyes grew rounder. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“You probably shouldn’t have admitted that.” Her breath was warm against his lips.
“I’m actually aware of that.”
She smiled. “You remember what I said about how Brantley and I weren’t really in love. How we weren’t sleeping together. All of that?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
Caroline half expected him to pull back or push her away, but Zander leaned into it. Immediately. He also dropped a hand to her ass and brought her up fully against him, then rolled her to her back, pinning her pelvis between his hand and his cock. She immediately felt how hard and thick he was.
She gave a breathless little gasp and arched into him. Her hands went to the back of his head, holding him close, and she opened her mouth, letting him sweep his tongue in to taste her.
He pressed her deeper into the mattress and she brought a knee up, cradling his hips between her thighs.
They kissed, lips, tongues, and breath mingling in a sizzling mix of lust and discovery that was easily the hottest kiss of her life.
It wasn’t a really high bar, but this kiss was…everything.
It was going to end. Zander Landry, the gruff, bossy, put-upon small-town cop, did not strike her as the type to make out with a near stranger he felt equally protective of and frustrated by without eventually, and probably abruptly, coming to his senses and ending it. And probably making the whole thing a big deal.
So, Caroline slipped her hands under his shirt, her hands running up the bare skin of his back. She wanted to touch as much of this man as she could in whatever amount of time she had. His muscles bunched under her palms and she felt a shudder go through him. The groan and the way he deepened the kiss made her think the shudder was a good one.
He again pressed the deliciously large bulge between her thighs against her sweet spot. Her clit ached for more pressure and friction and she shifted restlessly against him, lifting her hips and circling them.
“Jesus,” he rasped as he dragged his mouth along her jaw to her ear. “You feel so fucking good.”
“Ditto,” she managed.
She hadn’t had sex in a long time. Hadn’t even wanted to, honestly. But she didn’t remember needing a man against her like this. They weren’t even undressed.
She was mostly very happy to take care of her own needs. It was just easier. And less complicated. She was always aware that the people around her were constantly making deals and using absolutely everything they had as leverage and that no one ever really trusted anyone else.
But right now, with Zander, she didn’t care. She would have done anything as long as he’d promise to put his hands and tongue in all the places she suddenly needed them.
He kissed down her neck as his big hand slipped from under her butt to slide under the bottom of the shirt. She missed the pressure lifting her against his cock, but she loved the feel of his hand on her stomach. His skin was rough against hers. He had calluses on his palms and his touch was hot as he rubbed back and forth over her waist and up over her ribs. His thumb grazed the bottom curve of her breast and she moaned.
God please keep going.
She arched her back, encouraging him.
He did. He cupped her breast, running his thumb over her nipple.
She actually whimpered at the touch.
He paused. “You okay?” His breath was hot against her ear.
“So okay,” she promised, again arching closer. “More. Please.”
He gave a little groan but he took her nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling then tugging gently. A heavy throb started between her legs and she lifted her hips against him more firmly.
“Caroline,” he rasped.
She turned her head and met his mouth. She knew he was going to say they had to stop. And they did. This was crazy. But she just wanted his hands on her for as long as she could have them.
He kissed her hungrily, teasing her nipple, pressing his hips against hers, the friction against her clit so damned good.
Her hands went to his ass, gripping firmly, wanting to hold him close and wishing he’d taken the jeans off.
He skimmed his hand down her side to her hip, squeezing, and she held her breath, hoping he was about to whip her thong off. But that was when she sensed the shift. He kissed her deeply, then he pulled his mouth away, resting his forehead on hers.
They were both breathing fast and they just stayed like that, her hands on his ass, his hand on her hip, the other elbow bracing him above her, their breaths mingling, their noses touching.
Finally, he said, “We need to stop.”
She nodded. “I know.”
He squeezed her hip one more time, then rolled to the side. But he kept his hand on her. She breathed out.
“I like you touching me.” She wasn’t sure why she said that. Surely that had been obvious. But she didn’t mean it sexually. Not just sexually. She put her hand on top of his. “I like your hands on me.”