When I curled my hand around his neck and whispered in his ear, “You’ve ruined me for other men,” he practically snarled before pinning my hands overhead and resuming the wild onslaught that turned me on all over again.
He was out of control. And I loved it.
My breasts bounced with the power of his thrusts while the marriage of his grunts and my cries echoed off the walls. I was scaling the peak again, one orgasm rolling into another as he rocked his hips ruthlessly, making demands that pushed me to the limit.
“Don’t talk to me about other men,” he rumbled, slamming into me more forcefully. “Ever. Again.”
He was bleeding green as I tried to suppress the smile teasing my lips. Jealousy. One more sign that he was falling as hard as I was. “Why not?” Pushing him was the only way through the past. Into the present. And future.
“You know why.”
I felt deliriously defenseless as he unleashed all of his possessiveness and irritation, trying to claim me without having to say the words. But I needed words. Because words were the key to his heart. And that, to me, was the ultimate prize.
“No.” It wasn’t easy to find my voice while my body was reeling from the fiery thrashing, but I needed more. And was determined to get it. “You need to tell me.”
His roar of frustration was almost animalistic… and I was all about it. It marked a release I knew he desperately needed.
“Because you’re mine.” His jaw was clenched as he hissed the words between his teeth. “Mine, goddammit.” The shield he’d been protecting himself with finally cracked, and so did he, as his body jerked, prompting the hot rush of my own release as he gave in to his.
Chapter 16
Dade
Mine.I still couldn’t believe I said that. It was akin to dropping the L-bomb, something I swore I’d never say again.
Charli sighed, burrowing deeper into my arms, on the verge of giving in to sleep.
Damn. It felt incredible to hold her like this. To feel her little body wrapped around mine. I wanted to claim her, to tell the world she wasmine. My girlfriend. My lover. But Jesus, every time I thought about spilling those words publicly again, my gut clenched.
I could almost hear the laughter. See the eye rolls. The sarcastic comments and questions about how long it would lastthis time. I couldn’t put Charli through that. Making her doubt us, because everyone else did. Total strangers planting seeds of fear and doubt in her mind that would eventually grow into anger, frustration, and resentment. I knew. I’d been there. Lived it. And had the scars to prove it.
Charli had never lived through a shitstorm like the one she was inviting into her life if she linked herself to me romantically. She might think she could handle it, but she had no idea how ugly it could get. Or how nasty online trolls could be, when hiding behind the safety of their computer screen.
My cell phone rang, vibrating. It was lying in the pocket of my jeans on the floor and I cursed as I slid out from under Charli, trying not wake her as I made a grab for it. I didn’t want to wake her, so I slipped out of the room, looking back to make sure she was asleep.
She looked so cute, curled up under the snowy white duvet, in the fetal position. If I could wake up to that sight every morning I’d be a happy man.
I grimaced when I saw Reed’s number. I thought about ignoring it, but if he was calling this late, it had to be for a good reason. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Heard your interview tonight.” His words were slurred. “Single sounded good, man.”
That’s what he was calling me about? We did interviews all the time. TV. Print. Podcasts. Radio. It was no big deal. I got the feeling he wanted to talk and felt he needed an excuse. “Thanks. You okay? You sound a little—”
“Drunk?” He chuckled. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“What’s goin’ on, Reed? For real.”
I knew, but I wanted to hear him admit he was treading into dangerous territory. We’d both been in this business a long time and had seen too many friends succumb to the lifestyle. Partying too much. Drinking too hard. Drugs. Women. It was a potent cocktail that could take out the most talented musicians.
“What can I say?” He sighed. “Some days are harder than others.”
“Have you talked to her?” I sank down on the couch, kicking my feet up on a reclaimed wood chest my mother found on one of her travels and had shipped to me, claiming it would be perfect for my guest house.
“She won’t talk to me.” He coughed, holding the phone away from his mouth. “I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do. This shit is supposed to get easier, isn’t it?”
I rolled my eyes, tipping my head back on the cushion. “Seriously? You’re asking me?”
“Who better to ask?” He chuckled. “No one I know has been through more break-ups.”
