Chapter 9 #2
That takes him aback. His frown disappears, his eyes widen, his lips open in silence. “Reggie, that’s not what you need right now.”
“Oh, so you know what I need?” I sass him, putting a hand on my hip, my eyebrows raised.
“I know you, sweetheart. You’re not the kind of woman who just goes to bed with a guy.”
Fuck his sweet voice and slut-shaming!
“Maybe I wanna be!”
Blayne lets out a surprised laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t want what I’m offering.”
“What exactly are you offering, Blayne Madison?”
The question hangs between us, and I watch him struggle with whether or not to answer it.
“Nothing good,” he finally grumbles. “Nothing that’ll end well for either of us.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
I close the distance between us, and this time he doesn’t back away. We’re standing close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his bronzed skin, close enough to see the pulse beating at the base of his perfect fucking throat.
“I want you,” I state simply. “I’ve wanted you for longer than I realized, and I’m tired of ignoring that. So if you want me too, stop trying to decide for me, cowboy.”
Blayne’s control finally snaps. And I can see the exact moment it happens: his square, scruffy jaw clenches, his big hands fist at his sides, and something dark and hungry takes over his expression.
“You wanna know what I’m thinking, sweet pea?
” he asks in a rough voice. “I’m thinking about backing you up against that wall.
” He points one thick finger behind me. “And showing you exactly what you do to me. I’m thinking about getting my filthy cowboy hands on your fucking perfect body and not stopping until you’re begging. ”
My nipples are hard diamond points, my pussy pulsing, my clit on fire, my heart beating erratically, my legs barely holding me up, but I find it in me to raise my chin, hold his gaze and say, “So do it.”
Blayne growls, “Reggie.”
“Not fucking asking you to marry me, handsome. What I want is for you to fucking touch me. To make me feel something other than tired, scared and alone.”
My voice breaks a little on the last word, and that does it. Whatever last thread of restraint Blayne was holding on to shatters completely.
“Fuck it,” he growls, then his hands are on me, hauling me up against the wall like he said he would.
His mouth crashes down on mine, and this kiss is nothing like the one we shared in my sewing room. This one’s desperate, hungry, all teeth, tongue and barely controlled need. His huge hands are everywhere. Touching my face, running through my hair, gripping my waist. Like he can’t fucking decide.
I kiss him back just as desperately, my hands exploring the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the muscles flex under my touch.
He tastes like toothpaste and something darker, more masculine, and I can’t get enough.
Of his soft, warm skin, his hard body, his smell, his taste, the gruff sounds he’s making…
When he breaks the kiss to breathe, Blayne’s forehead lowers to come rest against mine, and we’re both panting.
“This is a bad idea,” he breathes out raggedly, but his hands are still on me, still holding me tightly against his powerful, half-naked body.
“Probably,” I agree on a huff of air. “But I don’t care.”
“I can’t give you what you deserve, princess.”
“Fuck you, Blayne. I’m not a fucking princess,” I reply just as quietly.
Eyes glued to his, as we’re both fighting to get what we want, what we need, against ourselves, against each other.
In intense, crazed whispers, with our bodies burning to finally connect.
“I’m asking you to give me what I want.”
“What’s that, sweets?”
I look up at him, this man who’s been haunting my thoughts for a week, and so much longer than I’ve allowed myself to acknowledge, and tell him the truth.
“You. Just you. For however long this lasts.”
Something shifts in his expression at that, something that looks like immense relief mixed with ravenous hunger.
“You sure about this?” he asks again.
“I’m sure.”
“Because once we start, there’s no going back, sweetheart.”
“I don’t wanna go back.”
Blayne studies my face for a long beat, then he nods.
“Okay,” he says. “But we do this my way.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means no expectations. No promises. No talk about the future or where this is going.”
His words sting. A lot. But I push the feeling aside. This is what I came here for: total honesty.
“Fine,” I reply. “It’s just sex.”
“Just sex,” he repeats, and that hurts too.
“So what now?” I ask, pushing through the tightening in my chest. The thought that this amazing man doesn’t want me. My kids. Our family. That all he thinks he has to give me is his body…
But instead of answering, Blayne lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his waist automatically, as he carries me down the hall.
“Now,” he says against my neck, “I show you exactly what you do to me.”
His bedroom is simple, masculine, uncluttered. With an Alaska-king-size bed covered in dark sheets, heavy, dark wood furniture that looks like it will last forever, and vast windows that face the rolling hills behind his house. The view is amazing, but I barely notice it.
He sets me down gently next to the bed, and I feel myself getting nervous. It’s been more than a year since I’ve been with anyone, and even then, things with Richard had been off for ages. I remind myself this is different. That what I’ll share with Blayne matters. Whether I admit it to him or not…
“Any second thoughts?” he asks in a choppy voice, running the tip of his nose along my jaw.. Inhaling my scent. Like he’s memorizing me. Cataloging me. Taking what he can before I change my mind. Oh, my poor summer child. No one’s changing their mind tonight. Even if I’m nervous.
“It’s been a while,” I admit.
“How long?” Blayne’s warm breath is travelling down my neck.
I feel my face heat. “Longer than a year. Things got really bad at the end.”
Something dark flashes in his eyes at the reference to my ex, and he grunts out, “He was a goddamn piece of shit.”
I let out a surprised laugh, and God, it feels good for some of the tension to release. “You don’t even know what happened.”
“I know enough. I know he had you and your family, and threw it all away.”
The certainty in his voice, the way he’s looking at me like I’m something precious, makes my chest tight with emotion I wasn’t expecting.
“Blayne…”
“We don’t have to do this,” he says, misreading my hesitation. “If you’re not ready…”
I silence him by pulling my blouse over my head and dropping it on the floor. His eyes darken as they track over my skin, taking in the simple black bra I’m wearing, and the hunger in his expression makes me feel beautiful in a way I’d forgotten was possible.
“I’m ready,” I say softly.
He reaches for me, his massive hands skimming up my arms to my shoulders, his touch reverent and careful. When he kisses me this time, it’s different from the desperate hunger from earlier. It’s slower, deeper, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of me.
His hands find the clasp of my bra, and he pauses. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
The bra falls away, and he takes a step back to look at me. The savage appreciation in his blue eyes makes me feel powerful instead of exposed.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he breathes.
“So are you.”
I reach for the button of his jeans, and he lets me, watching my face as I work them open and push them down his narrow hips.
When they hit the floor, he’s standing before me in just black boxer briefs that do nothing to hide how much he wants me.
Then the rest of our clothes disappear in a tangle of hands, mouths and whispered words.
When we finally fall on his bed together, skin against skin, I feel like I’m coming alive for the first time in years.
He takes his time with me, his mouth and hands mapping every inch of my body. When I arch under him, gasping his name, he murmurs praise against my skin that makes me feel like the sexiest woman alive.
“You feel so fucking good,” he rasps against my neck. “Fucking perfect.”
When he finally moves over me, his eyes lock with mine. “You okay?”
“More than okay.”
Blayne settles between my widespread thighs and runs the head of his thick, long, hard cock through my drenched folds, then he pushes inside me slowly, carefully, giving me time to adjust to his thick girth.
It’s been so long and he’s so fucking big that there’s a moment of discomfort, but then he’s moving, and all I can think about is how fucking good he feels, how perfectly we fit together.
“Reggie,” he breathes raggedly, and my name sounds like a desperate prayer on his lips.
I wrap my arms around him, my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting to feel nothing but his strength, his heat, the smell of him, his taste on my tongue, how amazing his thrusts make me feel.
The rhythm we find is slow and intense, building toward something that feels bigger than just physical release.
When I come under him, it’s with a silent cry and tears I didn’t expect sliding down my cheeks. He follows me over a moment later, burying his face in my neck as he shudders above me, growling like a beast who just mounted its mate.
After, we lie tangled together, both breathing hard. I expect him to pull away and put distance between us now that we’re both satisfied. But instead, Blayne gathers me closer, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Perfect,” I whisper back, looking into his amazing eyes, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I mean it.
I drift off to sleep in his arms, feeling safer and more content than I have in years. And if a small part of me is already dreading the moment when this arrangement will end, I push that thought aside for tomorrow.
Tonight, I’m exactly where I want to be.