Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Lynx
I had never wanted to break a promise more than I wanted to right then.
Although I was laughing, my body was hard as fucking granite, my dick painfully erect, desperate for the woman I'd been waiting what felt like a lifetime for.
However, I hadn’t brought her here to seduce her.
I really did want to show her something.
“Come on.” I nodded to my left, still grinning despite the fact that my cock was throbbing like a motherfucker.
I could see the fire burning in Reagan’s dark gaze, both desire and frustration. I liked that about her. The fact that she wore her emotions on her sleeve, that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. That was hotter than hell.
“Asshole,” she muttered.
Yep, definitely hot.
Even when it appeared she was pissed at me.
However, I hoped what I had to show her would take some of the sting out of my backing down because I was fairly certain I could’ve kissed her, and Reagan would’ve been hot to trot right along with me.
The girl was as flammable as dry grass, anxious for a spark to set her aflame.
And I knew without a doubt Reagan Trevino would burn bright and hot.
The woman had been neglected for too damn long, and I wanted to be the one to erase her past and show her how a real man treated a lady.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
Taking her hand, I tugged her along. When she tried to pull away, I linked our fingers together, still chuckling.
Once we were in the farthest corner of the warehouse, I released her hand, then reached for the cloth cover I'd placed there … a while ago.
“If you’ve got a bed underneath there, Lynx Caine, I’m—” Her words abruptly ended. “Oh, wow. Those are…” Her eyes lifted to mine, and I saw the confusion there.
“I made them for you.”
“What?” She frowned. “When?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A while back.” No way could I tell her that I made the pair of rocking chairs about eight years ago, a short time after she’d mentioned how much she liked the ones on my father’s front porch.
“And you made them for me?”
I could tell she was trying to hide her giddy reaction, so I motioned her toward the chair. “Sit. Test it out.”
She swallowed hard but moved closer. I watched as her small hand caressed the polished pine armrest.
“They’re beautiful. I can’t believe…”
When she sat down, her grin widened. I watched as she pushed back with her booted foot, putting the chair in motion, slowly rocking backward, then forward.
“Thought maybe I could take them out to Amy’s,” I suggested. “That way you’d have them on the front porch when you wanna sit outside.”
Her eyes met mine. “You really made these for me?”
I nodded, hating that I suddenly felt shy around her. That was something I never felt. I ruled the roost, prided myself on it. Yet when I was around Reagan, I felt vulnerable in a way I'd never felt before.
“When?” Her gaze narrowed. “When did you really make these, Lynx?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Hell, I don’t remember.”
That was a lie. I remembered it like it was yesterday because I'd made the first one right after she’d broken up with that asshole Billy Watson the very first time.
She’d been barely eighteen years old, just graduated from high school, and I had been over the fucking moon.
Because of her age, I'd been forced to take a step back from her when I'd first kissed her, and the next thing I knew, Reagan had started dating Billy not long before she graduated.
The second I'd found out, I had been pissed, confused. I remembered praying, something I hadn’t done in a long damn time.
Praying that God would strike Billy Watson down where he stood.
No one had ever accused me of being reasonable.
So, that first time they broke up, I'd automatically assumed it was over. Never in my life would I have imagined that relationship would’ve dragged out for so damn long. Eight fucking years I'd waited for this moment.
“You don’t remember?” She clearly didn’t believe me.
“Nope. Sorry.”
I damn near backed up, but somehow, I managed to hold my ground when Reagan got up from the chair. Hell, my feet were yelling for me to run, but I stood there, watching her, bracing myself.
“Do you remember that night?” she asked.
“What night?” Oh, I knew, all right. But I figured it was far safer to play dumb right now.
“The night I sat on your dad’s front porch with you. In those rockin’ chairs.”
I didn’t respond.
“I’m pretty sure I went a little overboard talkin’ about ’em.” She glanced over her shoulder at the two rocking chairs behind her before turning back to me. Her smile was wistful, as though she was remembering. “And you just happened to make these? For me?”
“Yep.”
“But you never gave ’em to me.”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged again.
She took another step closer and I found myself staring down at her.
“Tell me when you made them,” she urged, her voice softer, far too seductive for my fragile grasp on my self-control.
“A while back,” I offered.
“How long’s a while?”
I shrugged.
She stepped closer.
This time I did take a step back.
She took another step closer.
“Reagan…”
“Tell me, Lynx.”
“Eight years,” I admitted, my voice rough.
Something softened in her eyes and I knew without a doubt, for the first time in my life, I was about to go back on a promise.
Reagan
Eight years.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
Lynx had made these rocking chairs eight years ago.
Back around the time when I was eighteen years old. Old enough for…
“Why?” I asked.
Another shrug.
“Why’d you stay away?” That was a question I'd wanted him to answer for so long.
“You were too young,” he grumbled.
I knew that. I had been young. Not that I'd liked that conclusion when I'd come to it all those years ago. In fact, I had convinced myself that Lynx hadn’t really wanted me in the first place. My irrational brain wouldn’t allow me to believe he’d kept his distance because I was underage.
Unable to help myself, I reached out and touched him.
I gently caressed the side of his face, the rough rasp of his stubble abrading my palm and sending a shiver down my spine.
I had wanted to do this for so long, the memory of that long-ago night slamming into me.
The same emotion, the same urgent need, fizzed under my skin, thrumming in my blood.
Something about Lynx made my body heat, every cell hypersensitive, eager for him to touch me again.
It’d always been like that. But he had rejected me so easily, made me feel as though I wasn’t worth his time.
Then again, Lynx hadn’t actually done anything to make me feel that way, aside from keeping his distance, but I had allowed the irrational thoughts to grow roots, to become the truth.
In return, I'd put that much-needed space between us, refusing to think on it too much.
“Why didn’t you give them to me?” I probed. “And don’t tell me you don’t know.” I narrowed my eyes. “I know you, Lynx Caine. You don’t forget anything.”
“Because you were with Billy.”
The way he said it, the gravelly rasp of his voice had my belly fluttering.
Although I'd insisted that he give me space until his divorce was final, I couldn’t seem to fight the overwhelming urge to close the distance between us.
And what was another day, anyway? I had waited ten freaking years for this.
“Reagan…”
The way he said my name was a warning, I knew.
I ignored it.
Sliding my hand behind his neck, I urged him down toward me, our eyes locked together until my eyes crossed from his nearness. At that point, I let my eyelids lower and leaned in, pressing my lips to his.
Warm, soft.
And Jesus, he smelled so good. Like laundry detergent and soap.
Lynx didn’t kiss me back. In fact, he didn’t move. I could feel the tension in his entire body.
Pulling back slightly, I forced my eyes open only to find his were closed.
“Why won’t you kiss me?”
“Because I promised,” he whispered as his eyes opened and he focused on me.
I studied him momentarily, allowing my gaze to bounce from his lips to his eyes, then back again.
“But you want to?” I had to ask; I needed to know.
“More than anything,” he rasped.
Holding his gaze for another second, I let that sink in. If he wanted me and I wanted him…
“Fuck that promise,” I murmured before grabbing him roughly and jerking him toward me.
This time Lynx didn’t resist, and the second his mouth was on mine, my world lit up like the Fourth of July back in the day when the only thing that mattered was shooting bottle rockets and lighting up the sky, my body buzzing like that one time my brother dared me to stick a fork into the electrical socket in our kitchen.
Quick, powerful. All-consuming.
It was a kiss to rival all, and it only took seconds before I realized I wasn’t in control here. In fact, when it came to Lynx, I was completely out of control.
“Fuck,” Lynx groaned, his arms coming around me, his hands cupping my ass and lifting me off my feet.
I felt nothing except for the warmth of his mouth on mine, the confidence in his tongue as it plunged past my teeth, dueling with mine.
I inhaled him, unable to get enough. There was nothing sweet or seductive about this kiss.
It was fueled with years’ worth of pent-up desire, the sexual frustration finally finding an outlet.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I lifted myself with my arms around his neck, trying to get closer, trying to take everything this man was willing to give me.
The rough growl that rumbled in Lynx’s chest had my pussy clenching tightly, the emptiness inside me never more apparent than that moment. He held me so easily, as though I weighed nothing. I liked it, for whatever reason. Lynx Caine made me feel feminine in a way I'd never felt before.
When my back met an unmoving force, I grunted, but didn’t pull away.
He’d pushed me up against one of the steel beams holding up the second floor, which ultimately allowed our bodies to press more tightly together.
I ground against him, the seam of my jean shorts rubbing deliciously against my throbbing clit, a zing of pleasure slamming through me.
I could feel his erection, thick and hard, grinding against my most sensitive spot.
“Christ, Reagan,” he groaned against my mouth. “This is dangerous. You know that, right?”
Oh, I knew. I knew exactly what he was feeling and I was grateful Lynx didn’t pull back. There was a fire burning out of control inside me, and every second that he kissed me, it heated until I was consumed by it.
When his fingers slipped beneath the hem of my shorts, I sucked in air and pulled back abruptly. He was touching me, and heaven help me, it felt so damn good. His rough fingers against my skin, searching, seeking.
“Lynx! Oh, fuck… Oh, yes…”
“So fucking wet,” he growled against my neck, his mouth doing delicious things to that sensitive skin while his fingers probed beneath my panties, finding my slick entrance.
Rather than pull away, I tried to move closer, although I was pinned between his hard body and the steel beam. “Don’t stop,” I hissed when his fingers stilled. “Please don’t stop.”
“Not sure I can handle it,” he rasped roughly. “Feelin’ you come on my fingers might do me in, girl.”
The way he said that … girl. There was a sexiness in it, almost like a term of endearment. It made me hotter, wetter.
“Once I start, I won’t stop,” he insisted.
But I needed that. I needed him to make me come. If he didn’t, I was going to spontaneously combust.
“Make me come,” I pleaded.
When he pushed one finger inside me, I moaned long and loud. It was all I could do not to move, my body desperate for the friction that only he could provide right then.
Oh, who was I kidding? It wasn’t the friction I needed; it was him.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Lynx muttered. “I wanna taste you. Wanna feel this sweet pussy on my mouth.”
Opening my eyes, I watched his face. His eyes were so dark, his hunger for me apparent. When he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine, I tightened my grip on him.
“Make me come,” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.
I could tell he was debating.
In an effort to reassure him, I grabbed his hair, pulling his head back so I could look in his eyes.
“Just this once.”
His body went stone-still, his fingers, while still lodged in my body, no longer moving.
“Not once,” he growled. “If I make you come, Reagan, it’ll be the first of many. I won’t settle for one fuckin’ time.”
My eyes widened, my mouth falling open as I realized the ferocity behind his declaration.
Could I handle this man and everything he would do to me?
If I'd thought it would only be sexual, I could’ve easily said yes. My sex drive was intense and I knew I could match this man orgasm for orgasm. However, when it came to my heart…
“Put me down,” I insisted. “Right now.”
Something passed in his eyes, but Lynx didn’t argue. His fingers slipped from my body and the next thing I knew, my boots were on the floor, my chest heaving as I tried to battle back the mixture of frustration and need.
I righted my clothes and met his eyes once more, fully expecting a mischievous smirk, some smartass retort. But that never came and what I saw on Lynx’s face this time…
Looked a hell of a lot like regret.
And my stupid heart squeezed in my chest.