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Another smack—not hard, but over the same stinging skin—and her nerve endings sang. “That’s for putting this ass at risk by lighting out of the bus depot like a bat out of hell.”
“I hate you.”
Cool fingertips drifted over her still-tingling flesh, and she realized he traced his own handprint. The small discomfort didn’t distract from the pounding ache between her legs. If anything, it only intensified the sensation.
“I missed you.” Whether he was telling her, or prompting her, she didn’t know, but the words fanned unfair places. Her whimpered response turned into a groan when his lips followed the path his fingers had outlined. That mouth. She needed that mouth…
“Shane, please—”
His lips drifted closer. “You know I love to hear you beg for it, Sinclair. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamed of you whispering, ‘please,’ in that breathless voice, and I wake up hard and hurting every damn time. Just as hard and hurting as I am now. But this time it’s going to take more than please.” With that, he moved to the other cheek and drew an intricate design with the tip of his tongue, seemingly content to torture her forever.
Hot, sweet misery overwhelmed her. Frustrated tears stung her eyes. She had two options. Tell him to go to hell and drag her miserable, needy ass inside along with the tattered remains of her pride, or…
“I hate you.” She barely managed a whisper—one last act of defiance before she gave in to his demand. He heard her, and somehow, he knew he’d won. His tongue grazed her clit.
Her muscles gave out, and she fell back against the seat. The ceiling of the Rover blurred behind a haze of scalding tears. “I…” Oh, God, she was going to say it. “I m-missed you.”
The words tore through her, annihilating boundaries she’d established and maintained for a decade, leaving her wide open and at his mercy.
But then he was there, giving her what she needed, rewarding her honesty with hard, thorough strokes. Staying with her as she bucked and shuddered. Staying with her as her fingernails raked his scalp and her broken cry clawed the air.
The last thing she heard before the shattering combination of pleasure and fear took over was her own voice repeating three words like a shameful confession.
“I…missed…you.”
…
Victory raged through him, thundering like a heartbeat in time to her words. Damn right she’d missed him. He wasn’t in this alone. The uncontrived truth in her voice couldn’t be mistaken, and that kind of honesty deserved some serious positive reinforcement. After he saw her through this orgasm, he planned to flip her over, give her stubborn ass one last slap—to make sure she understood this wasn’t just about old memories, this was about them here and now—and then reward them both for today’s breakthrough with an exhaustive fucking ten years in the making.
He’d imagined her like this, on-and-off, for a decade, and even though he had a pretty good imagination, those fantasies made a pale substitute. Since the night of the wedding, however, imagination had escalated to cravings. A constant thirst he hadn’t been able to quench…until now. He could spend hours here, drinking his fill, drowning in her, if she’d let him. But even as he gentled his kisses and slowed his tongue to the softest of caresses, her sobs increased.
That was new. Not the tears. She’d always been a crier. It had scared the shit out of him the first time, but she’d blushed and promised they weren’t tears of pain, or sadness, they just…happened. Eventually, he’d realized if he made her come hard enough, she couldn’t hold them back. Those tears of pleasure were beyond her control, but not his, and he considered them the sign of a job well done. Once her orgasm subsided, however, they always tapered off, which these showed no signs of doing. No, this was something else. Maybe pain? Maybe sadness? Hell, maybe her foot was stuck there in the crevice over the dash, but until he knew more, there would be no flipping, slapping, or fucking.
Instead, he eased away from the sweetest pussy he’d ever had the pleasure of plunging his tongue into. The familiar jut of her hipbone beckoned, and he bestowed a kiss there before running his lips over her fluttering stomach. Her leg had to come down before he could go any higher, so he hooked his hand under her thigh and lifted her knee toward her chin. Her foot slid out easily, and he lowered her leg to the seat. Sobs, now muffled b
y the arms she’d flung over her face, continued.
Okay. Not the foot.
He worked his way up the midline of her slender torso and nudged the poncho out of his way so he could press a kiss to the swell of her breast, directly over her heart. Her breath stopped, but then released on another small sob.
This was going to get tricky. He planted a knee on the seat, braced a forearm on the center console, and nuzzled the underside of her jaw. When he reached her ear, he deliberately teased the soft lobe, where he knew she was ticklish, and hoped for a laugh…a giggle. Anything. He got another shaky breath.
“There”—he kissed her salty lips—“that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
The sarcasm earned him a watery laugh. She’d always appreciated irony. He kissed her again, just to make sure she’d let him, and then drew her arms away from her face. First one, then the other, placing them on either side of her head.
“Christ, you’re beautiful.”
He got a choked laugh this time, though he’d been completely serious.
“I’m a mess.” She sniffed and blinked at the ceiling. Then her chin trembled. “I’m sorry.”
Fuck. This was going in the wrong direction. He grabbed a handful of her thick, cable-knit thing and backed out of the car, pulling her into a sitting position as he went. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I made you a promise, and I didn’t keep it. You deserved to know why. But you didn’t owe me an explanation or a second chance, and you’re entitled to your anger.”
“No.” She dropped her head into her hand and shook her head. “I’m not. I’ve been angry with you for so long, for stuff you don’t even know about, because it was easier than facing…things.”
He waited for her to elaborate, but apparently, she planned to leave it at that. No good.
