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It was all her, and I couldn’t stop, not as I leaned forward…
But then I remembered a time overseas when bullets had rained down all around us. I’d looked up to find Rick grinning at me, his face sandy with an open cut weeping from his cheek. He’d laughed and howled like a madman, before nodding behind me.
The air support. The cavalry. Us cheering together.
It was a random memory. It could’ve been any out of hundreds, but it punched into me with a heavy impact, warning me I couldn’t do this.
I couldn’t kiss Rick’s daughter, for fuck’s sake, much less claim her in this primal way.
So I turned and got the hell out of there as quickly as I could before I lost control and dragged her with me.
When I got home, I couldn’t stop from charging into my bedroom and lying on the bed. Wrapping my hand around my hard dick, I felt all the precome, sliding slick on my length as I closed my eyes and saw Lorelei bent over in that tight black dress.
I imagined sliding the fabric up, revealing her soft round ass, grinding my hand up between her thighs, and tearing at her panties.
I’d thrust in like the beast I am, pounding her hard, grabbing onto her hips as I rocked into her, owning her.
Letting out a breath through gritted teeth, I remind myself – again – why I can’t let myself think like this. It’s already difficult enough being around Rick, knowing how I feel, what I nearly did.
That’s why I’ve made a point of meeting him at my place or at a bar or a restaurant, doing everything in my power not to come into contact with Lorelei.
Because if I did, I didn’t trust myself not to snap and leap on her, grab her shoulders and shove her up against the wall, gruffly telling her all the carnal things I want to do to that young body of hers.
I pull up outside my house, stopping outside the gate to collect my mail before heading in.
Driving down the gravel path, I bring the car to a stop outside and walk up the steps, already counting the seconds until I can head out on a job again.
Work is the only thing that distracts me from thinking endlessly about Lorelei, about the warring shyness and sassiness in her green eyes, about how smoking hot she looked in that black dress, about those voluptuous thighs and how they’d shake gorgeously for me if I hammered into her.
I drop onto the couch and glance through my mail. Most are bills or work-related things, but there’s one with no name on the front, no address, not even a surname.
Which means whoever left it did so in person.
Tearing it open, I read it quickly.
Dear Mr. Hunk,
I hope you don’t mind if I don’t leave my name. But I just wanted to say, what we shared, meant the world to me. I don’t regret a single moment of it. I often wish I could turn back time and relive it, except maybe I’d do things differently…
I’d wrap my arms around your shoulders and kiss you, take the lead so you knew it was okay, so you knew I wanted it as badly as you did. Or seemed to. I wish I could ask you what was going through your head that night, if you really did want me or if it was just the beer. I wish so many things, most of them probably a little foolish. (Okay, more than a little!)
But if you feel weird about it or anything like that, just… just don’t, okay. Because the only regret I have is that things didn’t go further with us. I think about it every day.
I sit back, feeling like I’ve been punched in the chest.
Does she really think I don’t know who this is?
Does my woman – my woman – truly believe I won’t work this out in two seconds flat?
The only regret she has is that things didn’t go further…
I’m not sure I can hold myself back if she feels this way. I’ve been telling myself, ever since it happened, that leaving her in the rain was the best decision for both of us.
But if she wants me, needs me like I need her…
I stand quickly, pacing through the house, the lights switching on automatically as I pass through corridors and finally walk into my office. Turning on my computer, I quickly access the security footage from the past few days.
I move through it at double-speed, watching traffic pass, the mailman visit several times, and then…
Yeah, just a few hours ago, there she is. There’s my Lorelei.
She strides quickly to the mailbox, her hips swaying from side to side. With curves like that, it’s probably her natural way of walking. It’s goddamn captivating to watch. And even beneath her hoodie and sweatpants, and her hair tied up instead of messy-sexy around her shoulders, she’s perfect.
