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“Bear, bro…” he starts.
I hold up my palm to stop him. “I need to do this. Lyla thinks…she got the wrong idea about last night because of her damn father. She thinks I was using her to get back at Laurel or something. I just need to clear the air. Remy doesn’t need to know.”
I can’t leave her wondering if her first time was with a man who used her.
“Fine. It’s your funeral,” he mutters. “Do you want me to stay?”
“No. You can go back to town. I’ll be back when I get back.”
“Just be careful. If her father or one of his guys sees you with her in broad daylight…”
“I know. I won’t let that happen,” I tell him before I start walking back to Lyla. On second thought, I decide it would probably be best to leave my cut in my saddlebag just in case someone sees us, so I take it off and stow it.
Lyla’s leaning her back against the passenger side of her car door when I return. “So, did you have any ideas about where we could go?”
“No, not yet. All I know is that I wasn’t ready to leave you, so I’m glad you stayed.”
She smiles at me and opens her mouth to say something before snapping it closed again.
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Tell me,” I demand.
“I was just going to say that I know what I would like to be doing with you…”
“Oh yeah?”
“But, um, I’m still a little too sore, so…”
“Damn, I’m sorry, Lyla.”
“How sorry are you?” she asks, and I’m pretty sure she’s being flirty.
That’s why I decide to just put it out there, hoping I’m right and she wants the same thing. It’ll be my chance to prove to her that I still want her as much as I did last night.
Closing the distance between us, I say, “Why don’t you crawl into the back seat of your car, and I’ll lick it better?”
She blinks her green eyes up at me in surprise. “Here?”
“I won’t be welcome in your house anytime soon, and we can’t go to mine, so…”
“Okay,” she easily agrees.
Without needing any more encouragement, my mouth crashes down on hers. Our lips and tongue are frantic for more as soon as they touch. There’s that same urgency as last night.
Knowing we need to stay out of sight, I reach over to our left, fumbling around for the rear-seat door handle to open it.
“Get in,” I say against her lips as I reach down to cup her ass. “Then take your panties off and show me where you want my tongue.”
Lyla moans into my mouth, but then she’s on board, following each of my commands.
As soon as she crawls inside, her hands dive under her dress, disappearing momentarily until they reappear to slip her bright pink panties over her shoes and off. She flings them into the front seat.
“Good girl,” I praise her while pressing the heel of my hand to where I’m already throbbing beneath my zipper. Her eyes watch the movement of my hand touching myself, so I remind her, “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you while you show it to me.”
“I want to come on your tongue again,” she says softly.
