"Beck."
"Yeah."
"I'm glad my car failed me."
He closes the book. Sets it down. Looks at me with those gray eyes and I see it. Everything he's been holding back. The looking away. The tightened jaw. The careful distance he keeps between us in the cabin, which is impossible because the cabin is small and I am everywhere in it.
"Jada. You're going to leave. Everybody does. Goes back to their life, their road trip, their plan."
"My plan is no plan. Remember?"
"That's what scares me."
"Why?"
"Because it means you might stay. And I might want you to. And wanting things is how I ruin them."
Standing from my chair, I walk to his. Stand between his knees. His hands grip the armrests. Knuckles white. Chest rising on a long breath.
Reaching down, I take his hand off the chair. Press his palm against my hip. His fingers spread wide. Grip hard. A sound comes out of him, low, raw.
"I'm not a building, Beck. I'm not going to collapse because you care about me."
He pulls me onto his lap. One motion, both hands on my hips. My knees bracket his thighs. His face inches from mine. Close enough to see silver threading through his beard. His hands slide from my hips to my ass, pulling me tight against him. He's hard. Full length pressed against my center.
"You make me want things I buried," he growls against my mouth. "Every goddamn morning you make coffee and hum in my kitchen and I want things I swore I was done with."
"Then have them."
He kisses me. Not gentle. His mouth takes mine, tongue pushing past my lips, one hand fisting my tank top while the other holds me exactly where he wants me. My hips grind against him and he groans into my mouth. My fingers rake through his hair, pulling his head back. His hips roll up, cock pressing against my clit through every layer between us. A moan rips out of me.
"Inside," I breathe.
He stands. Takes me with him. My legs wrap around his waist, and he carries me through the front door, kicks it shut, walks to his bedroom. Duke doesn't lift his head.
My back hits the mattress. He pulls my shorts down, hooks my underwear with them. Sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed. Parts my thighs with both hands. His mouth is on me before I'm ready for it. Hot, wet, his tongue flat against my clit, stroking slow.
"Oh my God." Back arching off the bed.
He grips my thighs. Pulls me closer. Eats me like he's been thinking about this for three days, tongue circling my clit then dipping inside before coming back up. One finger slides in. Then two. Curling forward, stroking that spot while his mouth works tight circles.
My hand finds his hair. Pulls. His groan vibrates against me. The orgasm builds fast, coiling tight, his fingers pumping, his mouth relentless.
"Beck. Fuck. Right there..."
It crashes through me. Thighs clamping around his head. He doesn't stop. Tongue gentling but staying on me through every pulse, fingers slowing, drawing it out until I'm shaking.
He stands. Pulls his shirt off. Unbuckles his belt. His cock springs free, thick, hard. He rolls on a condom with one hand while pressing my thigh open with the other.
Pushes in slow. Stretching me. Filling me. My nails dig into his forearms.
"Christ, you're tight." Full to the hilt, he holds. Then rolls his hips. Deep. Grinding against my clit with every stroke. One hand plants beside my head. The other grips my hip, angling me so he hits exactly right.
"Harder."
His hips snap forward, filling me with long thrusts that knock the headboard against the wall. My breast bounces free from my tank top. He dips his head, takes my nipple in his mouth. Sucks. Bites gently. My pussy clenches around him.
"Fuck." His voice wrecked. "Do that again."
