Page 188 of Trailer Trash

“Very well.”

“Really?”

“I’ll have to fidget with something else, like a lighter.”

We both burst into laughter.

Then, I shake my head forcefully. “Hell no!”

“Relax, relax. No knives or fire.”

This time, I squint and stare, showing him this is extremely important to me. He takes my hands in his, pressing his lips to my knuckles with such tenderness.

“I promise, Harlow. I won’t.”

My muscles lose their tension. I whisper, “Thank you,” truly meaning it.

I reach over and unbutton his pants. Slowly, I lower the zipper, teasing him until his eyes brighten.

“There was something else we did that night,” I murmur.

I slip my hand inside and curl my fingers around his cock. He’s already hardening for me. I stroke him lazily, dragging my thumb beneath the head each time I reach the top.

“Mm,” he grunts, sinking deeper into the hammock.

I lean over his lap and take him into my mouth. At first, I only suck the tip, keeping everything sensual and slow. Then I take him deeper, stroking whatever my lips don’t reach.

His fingers wind through my hair. He doesn’t force me down. He lets me torment him until his thighs tense and his breathing turns ragged.

“Enough.”

He stands and repositions me on the hammock as though it’s a sex swing, spreading my legs and settling between them. The ropes sway beneath me, leaving me exposed to the beach.

I glance toward the empty stretch of sand. “People could see if they walk by.”

“We’ll wave,” he jokes.

I laugh and don’t fight him. I’ve learned with Killian, most of the time, my monster is fun. For the little times he isn’t, he listens and gives me what I need — even if he doesn’t like it.

That’s more than enough for me. I know who I chose. I thought a normal man was a perfect man, but it was only the one with scars that my heart could love so deeply.

Tonight, I don’t need gentle.

Killian drives into me, and the hammock swings from the force. I clutch the ropes as he finds his rhythm, every thrust rocking me toward him again. Warm sunset light spills across his scarred face while his hands dig possessively into my hips.

“I love you, my future nurse,” he says.

“Oh, I’m already turned on,” I tease, but the next thrust steals the rest of my breath and turns it into a raw moan.

His palm cracks against my hip before he grips the stinging flesh. “Good, because I’d rather watch you break while I tell you what a pathetic thing you are. My sweet, pathetic thing.”

The words strike exactly where he knows they will. My body clenches around him as pleasure snaps through me, sharp enough to empty my mind. My eyes roll back and I shudder. He falls over me, one hand twisting into the ropes and the other gripping my breast as he comes undone, too.

“I love you,” I whisper between pants.

He says it back, then nips my earlobe, his words and breathing one with the ocean’s waves, calm but with an undercurrent that always sweeps me away.