His lips twisted a bit before he nodded slowly several times.
“What are we?”
He reached forward and adjusted the temperature on the dash. “We’re two people who don’t have to talk about what we are.”
“So …” I weighed my words. It wasn’t that I wanted to have the relationship conversation with him, but I also didn’t want to be the stupid girl being loyal to a man who was off screwing other people. Doing what he needed to do … “Even though I wasn’t the one to type or send the message to you, the reply you sent was honest. You don’t care if I’m with other guys when you’re not with me?”
“I don’t have the time or luxury of caring.”
So. Fucking. Vague.
“Do you have the time or luxury of sleeping with other women when you’re not with me?”
He gave me the worst answer. No answer. Not one word.
So we drove in silence. Him being … him. Unbothered by frivolous things like relationships. I needed something more than blind trust. And that was just it … I didn’t know if Slade expected me to trust him.
When we pulled off the road onto a small space nestled on a bluff overlooking the ocean, Slade jockeyed the van so the back faced the water. I unbuckled and climbed in back to assess the true sleeping situation in case I needed to sleep with Jericho instead of Wylder.
It wasn’t that he’d said anything wrong. It was that he didn’t say anything right. It was that he said nothing at all.
He climbed out and opened the back doors, letting Jericho free to do his business. Then he came around and opened the sliding door.
We stared in silence for a few seconds while I leaned against the cabinet and drew my knees to my chest. As if he read me like the most transparent human ever, he exhaled slowly. “What do you need?”
He wasn’t alluding to something I forgot to pack. Us. He wanted to know what I needed out of us.
Truth? I didn’t know.
I’d allowed myself to be with a man who tried to keep me at arm’s length for the longest time. I wormed my way into his life without knowing exactly what I did need from him.
“Do you want another man sticking his dick in me?”
He rested his hands on the top of the van for a few seconds, glancing around to keep an eye on Jericho and maybe searching the dark or the moon’s reflection on the water for an answer to my simple question.
I waited, a knot tightening in my stomach as each second passed. My gut waited for his answer, which I kind of knew would be “whatever you need.”
Wylder faced me again, digging his teeth into his bottom lip while moving his head side to side.
A smile crept up my face as I leaned forward, lifting onto my knees and inching closer to him. As I slid his shirt up his chest, my lips pressed over his heart. “Then I want it on the record …”
He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it the rest of the way off, dropping it to the floor of the van before threading his hands through my hair as I looked up at him.
“… that I don’t want you sticking your dick in some other woman without giving me advance notice. Deal?”
He dipped his head and kissed me just below my ear, holding my hair away from my neck. “Advance notice?”
My fingers worked the button to his jeans as my eyes drifted shut from the shiver his breath on my neck elicited. “A text. Voicemail. Postcard.”
“Noted.” He peeled my tee from my torso. Slowly. Like we had all the time in the world. And that night, atop the bluff overlooking my favorite place in the world, it felt like we could stop time and steal that idle moment forever.
As the cool, thick ocean air beckoned tiny bumps along my skin, he slid the straps of my bra off my shoulders, following the strap on my left with his lips. Patient Wylder.
I liked him.
Too much.
One hand cupped my breast, the rough pad of his thumb dipping under the fabric to brush against my nipple.
Slow.
So. Fucking. Slow.
“Jericho,” he called lifting his mouth from my shoulder for a nanosecond.
Like the best dog ever, he hopped in the back, into his bed. Wylder continued to seduce me one kiss, one gentle touch at a time. When we were in nothing but panties and briefs, he whispered in my ear, “Get in bed.”
I stole one more kiss from his perfect lips before pulling back, my breaths chasing one another. He shut the sliding door as I climbed into the bed. When he reached the back of the van, he closed the door to Jericho’s area and climbed into the bed with me, carefully ducking his head since there wasn’t much space above us. Then he pulled the magnetic screen over the entire opening, allowing us to see out without the bugs getting inside.
A perfect night. The perfect place.
When he rolled toward me, both of us on our sides, he did something so fucking glorious my heart stopped as my mind fought to recognize the man next to me.
He grinned from ear to ear. Seriously … who was that guy?
“Hi,” he said.
There was nothing, and I mean nothing, I could have done to stop my heart from diving headfirst into everything Slade Wylder. It was like all the times I paddled out to catch a wave knowing there were sharks beneath me. The high made it worth the risk.
“Hi.” I mirrored his grin a breath before he kissed me.
We kissed forever. He pulled me on top of him. And we kissed more. I felt him hard between my legs, the cotton of his briefs and my panties masking very little—serving only as a temporary barrier to build the moment, stoking the fire.
“Wylder …” I slid my hand down the front of his briefs, drawing a sharp breath from him followed by a long moan. “You suck at not being romantic.”
His hands tangled in my long hair (where I loved them most) as I kissed down his chest.
“You suck at not being sexy.” My mouth gave his abs some love as I stroked him.
He said nothing as I removed his briefs, but the second I slid my panties off, he flipped us over, settling between my legs, mouth working its way up my chest to my neck. We were cramped for space, but we made it work, pressing our bodies as close together as possible. He entered me so agonizingly slow I could barely take it.
The man hovering over me wasn’t fucking me on the landing of his stairs or against his back door. This was different.
And I just … couldn’t … take it.
“Wylder,” I whispered as he started to move, each thrust slow and meaningful.
“Livy,” he whispered back, drawing my bottom lip into his mouth.
I closed my eyes for a moment to decide if the words clawing at my chest really needed to be set free.
They did. Holding them inside would’ve caused too much pain.
“You suck at being unlovable.”
He stilled, lifting his head just enough to see my eyes.
My right hand slid up between us to press against his face while my left hand feathered along his back. “So…” my voice shook “…just remember it’s your fault. You made me love you.”
He blinked slowly.
“But you don’t have to love me back.” Before he could respond, or worse, not respond, I stretched my head and captured his mouth as my feet dug into the mattress to lift my pelvis. Urging him to move again, I snaked my tongue into his mouth while my hand grabbed his ass.