“Zero-three-one-two is the code,” she mumbles against my flesh a second before her teeth are scraping up the column of my neck.
It sends a current of electricity bolting down the length of my spine, straight to my fucking balls, and I push her against the door, grinding against her, looking for some kind of relief. She gasps, the sound right next to my ear, and fuck me if it isn’t the best thing I’ve heard in my life.
Digging my fingers into her ass, I squeeze both cheeks, causing her to make the same noise. It has my cock deliriously harder, my heart hammering in my chest as I make the discovery.
“You like that, baby?” I ask, and when she nods, answering me with a breathy “yes,” I do it again. “Do you like your ass played with?”
Words seem to fail her, her head falling back against the door.When I lift mine to gaze at her, her eyes are hooded with desire, her chest heaving with panting breaths, and she nods.
“You’re going to have me embarrassing myself again, B,” I tell her, squeezing again.
I need her out of her clothes. Need to see her on full display, this ass on full display. We haven’t even made it inside her place yet, and if I don’t get her in there soon, I’m going to end up fucking her right against this damn door.
Stepping back so I can see the pad for the door, I type in the number she gave me, but the pad lights up red. Cursing, I try again, my hands still vibrating with a craving to be all over her, red flashing once more.
“Zero-three-one-two,” she says, shifting her hips against me, her center rubbing in just the right spot to make me groan. “Focus, Wy.”
Growling at her demand when she knows damn well what she’s doing has me squeezing one cheek tight enough to make her gasp. It doesn’t help, the way she bucks against me, driving my need to be inside of her to a new level.
Despite the scrambled mess my brain is in, I type the number into the pad once more, this time the thing lighting up green. The lock clicks, and then we’re inside.
Unlocking her legs from around my waist, she slides to the ground, my hands trailing up her back as my lips find hers to keep her close. She’s no longer wearing her jacket from earlier, after being in the truck with the heat on for so long while we drove around and sang to country music after dinner, but she still has on too many layers.
Bryn must think so too because she’s breaking our kiss to pull her sweater over her head, taking my breath with it when I glimpse her in only her bra. I’ve jerked off countless times to what Iimagined this moment to be like, but my imagination has nothing on the real thing.
Mint lace covering pale flesh. I groan when I see the rosy color of her taut nipples peeking through the fabric. It takes every ounce of willpower not to reach out and rip the thing off her so I can get a full visual on the nipples beneath. Instead, I slowly peruse the exposed flesh of her stomach, knowing how soft it is after being able to touch her freely there the other night.
She steps closer to me, taking my view away, to grab the hem of my t-shirt. “Off.”
With a slow grin, I help her pull it off, discarding it with her sweater now on the floor. My hands grip her waist, making a move to slide down to her leggings, but her hands press against the front of my ribs, and she takes half a step backward, eyes locked on my chest.
Oh, fuck. I totally forgot.
“What is that?” she breathes, barely above a whisper. “Wy, what is that?”
The tattoo. The one I got for her.
Swallowing the lump that’s grown in my throat, I place my hands over hers. “A tattoo.”
“Clearly, I can see that,” she says, her eyes lifting to mine. I can’t read them. The surprise is there, of course, but besides that, there’s nothing that says she loves it or hates it. “Why does it say that?”
“Because it’s my truth,” I tell her.
One of my hands falls to my side when she pulls hers out from under it, my heart jumping into my throat. Then she starts to trace the words I got for her.
You are my hope.
“When did you get this?” she asks, tracing over the wordhope.
The four words are in two lines, off-centered from each other in elegant cursive that closely matches my “Family” tattoo. They rest right over the middle of my left pec.
Breathing my nervousness out through my nose, I lick my lips to get some kind of moisture going in my suddenly dry mouth. “The day we broke up.”
Her eyes snap to mine, wide as they were when the whales surfaced at the same time, but there’s a line between her eyebrows that has me worried.
“What?” she asks, in total disbelief.
Lifting a hand, I push it through my curls, my cock not nearly as hard as it was a minute ago. “Brody and I ended up at 10-42, and I was trying to come up with a way to get you back. He kept shooting down all my ideas, and then I said I was going to get a tattoo. It was one idea he thought was smart.”
