Page 14 of Liquids

My heart does a little flip. “You’re intimidating, size-wise.”

“I’ll make sure you’re wet enough.”

His thumb on my clit rubs back and forth, and I run my finger over the tip of him, making him shudder.

“Don’t do too much of that or I’ll shoot off like a teenager. I’ve been on a rig for a month with only my hand for company. That’ll break the spirit of any sane man.”

I’ve never been one to play by the rules, though, so I do it again to him, and his cock jumps. Holy shit. So responsive.

Whatever he’s doing between my legs is so goddamn perfect that I can’t help but roll my hips into him. And after I’ve done it a few times, he narrows his eyes: “I want you rolling like that when you’re riding my dick.”

Lifting up and shifting back, I pull at his waistband. He lifts his pelvis, and I drag his jeans down and off, getting my first real glimpse of his length, sticking straight up from his body. My mouth waters, so I give the tip of him a lick as I crawl back up to sit over his legs. He growls at me, eyes dark and stormy as I grin. His hands tighten on my thighs.

“Babe. The first time we had sex, you were so hot and tight I thought my head was going to explode. How do you think this is helping?”

I pout, and he smiles. “Who’d have thought you were such a minx in bed? You always seemed to me like a quiet, sensible girl.”

What? He noticed me before I chatted him up in Callahan’s? I don’t believe it.

“Don’t try and pretend that you’d noticed me before I picked you up.”

“Babe.”

“What does that mean, ‘Babe’?”

He shakes his head. “You know how you look.”

“Old and sad?”

His mouth thins into a straight line. “I’m not having this conversation while you’re sitting on my knee with no top on.”

I start to bend over to grab my T-shirt, but he knifes up, wrapping his arms around me and locking me to his chest as he falls back down. We’re nose to nose now. His face is like a thundercloud, and I lick my lips.

“You’re a good-looking girl. You know that. You’re not old and sad. But most guys don’t want to take you on.”

My heart hammers. “Take me on?”

His arms tighten. “Most men understand they got a job to do to straighten themselves out: They don’t want to take on a woman that they have to straighten out, too.”

And ouch, that hurts. But he’s not wrong. He must see something in my face because his eyes soften as he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it to come out quite like that. I …”

“Do all men think like that?” I interrupt.

He examines me for a couple of beats and runs his tongue over his lips. “Not the lazy ones who don’t give a fuck as long as they’re getting laid, and, babe, you’re a great lay, but most guys won’t stick around with a woman who might mess their lives up as much as hers is messed up.” He purses his lips. “What you gotta remember is guys are shit-scared half the time. They don’t have the headspace to deal with another fucked-up person.”

I swallow. Not sure I’m thrilled with being described as fucked up.

“Do you think like that about me?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not looking for a woman long-term. Tried that when I was younger; not doing that shit now. No bones about it: They don’t want to stick with me, either. I’m away on the rigs a lot. It’s dangerous and stressful, and I’m exhausted when I’m back and not decent company. Then I’m back out there again.” He gestures toward the window. “I don’t talk much. I’m not a sharer. I’m not a good bet, either.”

“What’s your longest relationship?”

“A coupla years. A long time ago.”

“Who was she?”

“Sadie.” He props one hand behind his head. “It was brutal.”