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Her only response was to shove her yoga pants down to her knees.
He lifted her onto the counter and disentangled her right leg from the pants so he could spread her fully. He stroked her thighs, pausing when his fingers met the scar. It brought up so many conflicting feelings in him. It was his fault that she had the damn thing, but that didn’t mean he thought of her as less, the way she seemed to think. She was as beautiful now as she’d been at eighteen, and more confident despite her injury. Or maybe because of it. He had no idea.
All he knew was that at some point he was going to have to get up close and personal with her healed injury, and he was going to have to tread very, very carefully to avoid burning what was left of the bridge between him and Hope.
“If you apologize, I might actually kick you.”
That snapped him out of it. As much as he wanted Hope, he had an ulterior motive for pushing her now. All getting distracted by her leg was going to do was fuck up his chance of convincing her to stay, in his house and in his bed. He jerked her to the edge of the counter, spreading her thighs wider. “Don’t scream. You’ll upset Ollie.”
And then he did what he’d been fantasizing about ever since he walked out of her life. Daniel dipped his head and gave her center one long lick. She tasted better than he remembered, her body already shaking for him, so he used his thumbs to part her folds and licked her again, reacquainting himself with every inch of her.
“Oh.”
He looked up her body to find her head thrown back and her chest rising and falling with each harsh breath. “Take off your shirt.”
Hope wasted no time obeying, dragging the material over her head and tossing it away. And then there was nothing hiding her body from his gaze. He licked her again, savoring the way she shook. A tattoo curling around the bottom of her ribs caught his eye, but he was too distracted to read it.
He was tired of teasing her. He wanted to feel her orgasm again, to know she was coming apart at the seams because of him. Daniel sucked her clit into his mouth, stroking the sensitive little nub with the flat of his tongue the way she’d always loved. Sure enough, before he had a chance to truly savor her, Hope cried out his name and shuddered, her thighs squeezing his head as she came. He gentled his touches, licks turning to kisses, turning to the slightest brushing of his lips against her. Only when she stopped shaking did he raise his head. “Stay, at least until we figure out what we’re doing.”
“You are…I don’t even have words to describe what you are.” She blinked and ran a hand over her face. “Is this how every argument is going to go?”
Hell, yes—at least if he had his way. Daniel dragged his cheek against her thigh. “You kissed me first.”
“I was just trying to shut you up.”
He laughed against her skin, not quite willing to let her go yet. “Well, that’s one way to go about it.”
Her smile died as she pushed him gently back and slid off the counter. “This doesn’t solve anything. You know that, right? You can’t just sex me into submission.” She wrestled her pants back on, and he mourned the loss. Things were so much simpler when they were talking with their bodies instead of their words. No matter which way he lined things up, they were different people than they’d been when they dated. So much had changed since then, the terrain changed until he barely recognized the world around him.
But he knew her body.
He’d never stop knowing what made her hot and drove her crazy.
And he sure as fuck wasn’t above using that to get what he wanted.Chapter EightHope climbed out of Daniel’s truck and looked up and down the street. There were people around, but none of them seemed to be paying too much attention. That wouldn’t last, but at least she had a slight reprieve to catch her breath.
In theory.
The truth was she didn’t know what the hell was going on. One minute she’d been independent and asserting her need to create some distance between herself and Daniel, and the next his head had been between her legs. It was never like that with him before. It had been soft and sweet.
There was nothing soft and sweet about the man coming around the front of the truck to glare at her. He pointed. “I was coming to get your door.”
“Either develop Superman abilities or come to terms with the fact that I can get my own damn door.” She knew she was being rude, but she didn’t care. She’d spent almost half her life taking care of herself without a man—without him—around, and she wasn’t about to turn into a wilting flower just because he decided to walk back into her life.
