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“And how would you know?”
“Because I know you. And because I came here thinking the exact same thing. I have a past too, Cole, and it isn’t all blooming roses. It’s weeds and thorns. Maybe not as horrendous as yours, in fact, nowhere near it, but it wasn’t an easy life, especially when I ran away from it to start over.”
I search her face, looking for a fib, a lie, a tall tale. I find nothing but sincerity. “What are you saying?”
“That you need to start over.”
“And how do I do that?”
“Well,” she begins, blowing out a breath. “Start by labeling what the hell this is between us.”
I swallow with difficulty. “What do you want this to be?”
She bites her bottom lip but raises her chin with a certain sort of confidence that doesn’t match her expression. “How do you feel about me? Don’t think about it. Just say it.”
“You’re beautiful,” I say automatically. It’s the very first thing that popped into my head, and it felt right as soon as it left my mouth.
The blush along her cheeks is endearing, boosting my confidence, but she doesn’t break our gaze. “And?”
I shrug a little, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “You’re cool. I like you.”
“Well, that’s good, since you don’t seem to like anyone.” She smiles shyly. “But in what way do you like me?”
Finally giving in to the urge, I reach forward and tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “In ways that I didn’t think I was capable of.”
Her red cheeks turn even brighter, and I find that I like that shade. I smirk as she whispers, “I like you too. A lot. And as more than just friends.” She glances at our feet. “Way more than friends.”
I tuck a finger under her chin and raise her gaze back to mine. The butterflies explode in my stomach, and I lean forward and capture her mouth. The instinct to do so is surreal because, not once, except for my sister, have I had someone care about me. They saw me for what was on the outside. First, a child from a broken home. Second, a foster child. Third, a lying child. Fourth, a murderer. Fifth, an ex-con. She doesn’t label me. She sees me for who I am.
There was a time when everything meant nothing tome. In fact, that time was before Tegan came into my life. But she had, she is. And even though I don’t believe it’s possible to actually start over, I’m going to give it a shot.
Because I care about her more than I can admit at this moment. More than the words I’m capable of understanding.
She kisses me back as I back her toward the counter, my crooked finger under her chin lowering until my hand is wrapped around her neck. She groans into my mouth, and I smile a little against her lips as we bump into the counter. Not only was it instinct to kiss her after her confession, but I have this dying need to seal it with sex. With being buried inside her. With telling her how I feel when my words lack impact.
I flip her over and press my palm into the back of her neck until she’s bending over the wood counter. I rain little nibbles across the width of her shoulders as I hook my fingers into the waistband of her shorts and shove them down. Her breathing becomes more and more ragged with every single bite.
“Tell me what we are, Cole,” she says between breaths.
I pause for a second. Then, in between bites, I say, “You’re the only one I want to fuck. You’re the smile I want to see every damn day. If you need to label it, then call you mine, sweetheart.”
A shiver racks her body, and I shove down my paint-splatter shorts until my cock springs free. The cooler air of the house wraps around my shaft, but I grip it and press the tip against her entrance.
This will not be gentle. This will not be kind. This is a fucking need, a desire so damn deep that I’m convinced if I don’t bury myself inside her, my world will literally fall apart.
I groan as I shove inside. While she screams at thesudden intrusion and bite of pain, her pussy ripples around my cock, andfuckdoes it feel so damn good.
Grabbing hold of her hips, I pull her ass back against me, pushing deeper inside. I watch as her fingernails scrape against the counter, and if it weren’t for her moans punctuated by little sobbing hiccups, I’d take it easier on her. But my girl likes the pain, I know she does. She doesn’t have to voice it for me to know. It’s in the slight arch of her back. It’s in the way her pussy soaks me. It’s in the tone of her sounds of pleasure.
“You look so pretty for me, sweetheart,” I grit out as I begin moving inside her. Her cheek is pressed against the wood, but her tears glisten against her other cheek under the kitchen lights.
Her buckled knees begin to relax while I pump inside her, and I pick up my pace, fucking her the way I want to. I meant what I said, I realize with each thrust. She’s mine. Just the thought of her doing this with another guy has me near rage. I don’t want her with anyone else. I want her withme.Fuck the consequences. Screw the rumors. If she can handle them, then so can I.
Her moans deepen into the sound that drives me crazy, and her thighs begin to shake. I know she’s close to cumming, right on the edge, so I reach forward, wrap my hand around her neck, and choke her as I pound into her.
The deep moans are strangled, and her face turns a pretty shade of red, but with a few more pumps, her throat vibrates against my fingers as she attempts to scream. Her orgasm squeezes my cock so damn tight that the tingle slams into the base of my spine.
“Fuck,” I moan. “That’s it, sweetheart.Fuck.”
