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I still, my eyes widening.
He pushes away from me so he can meet my gaze. I can’t tell if he wants to scowl or laugh. “Jesus, man, don’t look so shocked.”
“I just—” I start to say before slamming my lips together and shaking my head. “It still catches me off guard sometimes,” I tell him truthfully.
Humor and something else, something sharper—bitter—dances in his hazel eyes. “What, that I like cock?” He tucks his bottom lip into his mouth, leans up and says right over mine, “That I likeyourcock?”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I shudder under him, earning myself a low, wicked chuckle. There’s still an air of self-deprecation clinging to him like an unrelenting shadow, but he doesn’t let it swallow him up. If he’s content to ignore it, so am I.
Groaning into a laugh, he glides his mouth down my cheek, pressing his face into the side of my head. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or proud I still have this effect on you,” he rumbles into my skin.
My fingers bite into his back. “Proud. Definitely proud.”
“That so?”
“Yup.”
He hums, pulling back again to peer up at me.
I search his gaze and run the side of my thumb down his smooth cheek. For a long moment, neither of us say anything.
Waylon’s throat bobs and his eyes dip to my chin for a beat before gazing steadily back at me. “It wasn’t about the makeup. Not really.”
My brows fly up toward my hairline.
His mouth twists with a knowing, self-deprecating smile. “Don’t look so shocked. Your poker face is still shit.”
I wince and wave a hand at the air. “Yeah, but that wasn’t why I—”
“Sucked my dick? Let me suck yours? I know.”
Pursing my lips, I study his expression, looking for any signs he might be lying. Whether it’s to himself or me is irrelevant.
“Just like I know you were struggling with whether or not to still bring it up,” he says pointedly. “So I’m doing it for you.”
My eyes slide shut and I shake my head, pulling him closer to me, giving him no choice but to bury his face under my chin. I tell him, “I really did bring you up here to talk—”
“I know, and now we are.”
I blow out a sigh of relief, grateful he’s taking the reins with this. Because Iwasbeginning towonder if maybe I fucked it all up by not insisting we talk about it first. I just…I kissed him, and like always, nothing else mattered. I just wantedhim.
Neededhim.
In any and every way I could get him.
“And whether it was intentional or not,” Waylon goes on, his voice muffled, “point made.”
I grunt at that.
He pulls back just enough to grin up at me, and some of the tension fisting my chest eases up at the sight of it, seeing that he’s genuinely not ticked off about it. “Feel free to remind me anytime.”
Shaking my head, I murmur, “Smart ass.”
He leans up, pressing his lips to mine. “Dick head.”
Huffing a laugh against his mouth, I kiss him back, cupping the back of his head with my palm. “Love it when you talk sweetly to me,” I mumble against his lips, feeling a smile inch up along his face.
I give a little tug of his hair, pulling him back so I can see his eyes. “So, if it wasn’t about the makeup, what was it?”
