Page 103 of In Your Wake

Instead, I slip my nose into her hair and take a deep inhale. “I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

21

Rough Seas

Max

The low, throaty tone of Mitch’s voice, which has none of the softness of his younger days, digs into me, coaxing out something unexpected. It’s enticing, but also a little scary. Not that I’m afraid of him—he’d never hurt me. There isn’t a bone in his body that’s mean or sadistic.

What frightens me is what these emotions make me want to do to him. The way my knees weaken and my pussy clenches with need when his warm lips and soft beard tickle my ear.

Captured between his arms, his solid body and the door, I can’t leave, and yet there’s nowhere else I want to be.

Still, something tells me I need to get out of here as soon as possible.

“Get off of me.” I shove back, my ass slamming into his hips, and he groans. “You don’t get it, do you?” I say, turning to face him. “You and I? It all disappeared the day you took off. It killed me, Mitch. It still does.” I lay a hand over my heart as if trying to protect it from the surge of pain flowing through it.

There’s a challenge in his eyes, as if he’s trying to cage me in again. Enticing, arousing challenge that makes my body tingle with anticipation and curiosity.

I slam my eyes shut, dipping beneath his outstretched arm and scurry to the opposite side of the room like a scared little mouse.

His dark gaze doesn’t falter. There’s a faint hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. Like a predator getting ready to pounce and I’m his prey.

I should be worried, right? Try to flee?

Only I’m not worried. Nope. Not even a little.

This isn’t about power or pain. If it was, Mitch would have overpowered me by now. Simple common sense proves that. He’s huge compared to me. He’s over two hundred pounds of muscle easy, whereas I’m an out of shape one-forty. Sure, I’m strong. Sure, my knees are rock hard and would collide with his crotch like a wrecking ball, but the truth is if Mitch wanted to hurt me, he’d have done it by now.

That’s not what this is about.

He’s waiting me out, like back when he’d chase me down and tickle me. He’s trying to see exactly how interested I am in what might happen.

My eyes drift down and see the hint of a thick, solid line beneath his swim shorts, telling me how much he wants something to happen. There’s no denying his interest. It’s clear as day.

His eyes keep dancing down to my chest, where I’m sure he sees my pebbled nipples. I wonder if he knows how hard they ache for his mouth.

His gaze slides up my body, painting my skin with so much heat, I’m worried I’ll catch fire. My eyes flicker to the bed, and I regret it instantly.

Too late, he notices. That coy smirk appears.

“Mitchell,” I warn.

Luring me in, he skates his tongue across his lower lip before biting down. He takes a few steps closer until we’re about a foot apart. I breathe in his scent—all manly with a mix of the sea—and immediately wish I hadn’t. It stirs this semi-dormant urge inside me that’s desperate to emerge.

“We can’t,” I say, my voice shaky and entirely unconvincing.

“We could,” he counters with confidence.

I don’t see him move, but somehow, he closes the distance between us, and his nearness sparks shivers all over my body. He brushes his fingertips against my hand, but I snap it away.

“No, we can’t,” I repeat.

“But we already have.” He arches an eyebrow.

“And that was a stupid, stupid, horribly stupid—”

“Mistake?” He smooths a knuckle along my cheek, then skims it along my jaw, under my chin, and tips my head back. Searching my eyes, he leans in. “I’ve known you long enough to tell when you’re lying, Toots. And right now, you’re lying bad.”