CHAPTER ELEVEN
His lips are still pressed against mine, the words hanging between us.
“Because I’m not nearly done with you yet.”
Heat spirals through me at his tone—all deep command and raw promise.
But when his hand slips between my thighs, I grab his wrist, stopping him.
Suddenly, I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with my nakedness.
What am I doing here? In his bed? In his house?
My mind races back to that blonde who showed up at the compound earlier.
Melanie.
The way she called him “baby” with such familiarity.
The hurt in her eyes when he dismissed her.
Am I just another notch on his belt?
A warm body to pass the time with?
The thought makes my stomach twist.
I’ve been here before—thinking I was special, only to discover I was just convenient. Zane made me believe that he loved me. That I was the only one.
God, I’m no better than the whore he knocked up.
The other woman.
The side piece.
I can’t do this again. I won’t.
“Is Melanie your girlfriend?” I blurt out, bracing myself for the answer I expect.
Tacoma chuckles, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners as his lips curve into a smirk. “Jealous?”
That one word hits me like a slap.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, throwing his hand off my body and scrambling out of the bed. I spot my panties on the floor and grab them, fumbling to pull them on. “I’m not doing this again.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Tacoma jumps out of bed and catches my arm, his grip firm but gentle. “Angel, wait.”
I whip my head around and glare at him. “Don’t ‘Angel’ me. I asked you a simple question.”
His face softens, the cocky smirk fading. “I’m sorry. That was a dick move.” He runs his free hand through his tousled dark hair, sighing. “This isn’t... I’m not used to this.”
“To what?” I demand, throwing my arms up, still half-poised to flee.
“To having a woman question me or my motives.” He rubs a hand across the top of his head, his expression turning serious. “No, Melanie is not my girlfriend. She’s never been my girlfriend. Yes, we’ve fucked, but that’s all it ever was.”
I study his face, looking for any sign he’s feeding me bullshit. His eyes meet mine steadily, unflinching.
“You’re the first woman I’ve had in this house,” he adds quietly. “In this bed.”
Something warm blooms in my chest at his words, but I’m afraid to trust it. “Why me?”
His brows draw together, like he’s asking himself the same question. “Honestly?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “All I want is the truth.”
He lets out a deep breath. “I don’t know yet, Angel. I just know you’re different. I can’t explain it.” He shakes his head, looking almost frustrated with himself. “I feel it in here.” He slaps his palm against his bare chest, right over his heart.
My cheeks warm at the raw sincerity in his voice. Because I feel it too—this inexplicable pull, this sense that somehow he’s different from anyone else I’ve ever met. This insane knowing in my heart that I’m supposed to be here.
I tip my head so I can look him directly in the eyes. “Thank you.”
His brows snap together. “For what?”
“For telling me the truth.” I shake my head, feeling vulnerable. “I’ve been lying here thinking that I’m crazy for feeling this,” I wave a hand between us, “I mean, it’s been a day. That’s nuts, right?”
He closes the distance between us and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “No.”
I bite my lip, hardly daring to believe him. “Really?”
Instead of answering, he kisses me—soft and sweet and somehow more intimate than anything we’ve done so far. When he pulls away, he offers me his hand. “Really.”
Taking his hand, I suddenly feel shy as he leads me across the room to his bathroom.
It’s surprisingly nice—slate gray tiles, a large walk-in shower with a rainfall shower head, and a double vanity with dark granite countertops. Masculine but clean, with fluffy white towels stacked neatly on a shelf.
He releases my hand to turn on the shower, and steam quickly begins to fill the room as the water heats up.
When he turns back to me, his eyes are dark with renewed desire.
“Come here,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.
I step into his embrace, my body fitting against his like we were made for each other. His hands slide down my back to cup my ass, pulling me against the hard length of him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against my neck. “I can’t get enough of you.”
The shower glass has fogged up, and he leads me inside, the warm water cascading over both of us. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, letting it soak my hair and run down my body.
When I open them again, Tacoma is watching me with an intensity that makes my knees weak.
He reaches for a bottle of body wash, squeezing some into his palm before setting it aside. He works it into a lather between his hands.
“Turn around,” he says softly.
I obey, and his soapy hands begin a slow exploration of my body, starting at my shoulders and working down my back.
His touch is reverent, almost worshipful, as he maps every curve and dip.
“I’ve never seen anything as perfect as you,” he says, his lips close to my ear as his hands slide around to cup my breasts.
I lean back against his chest, a soft moan escaping me as his thumbs brush over my nipples. “That feels so good.”
His hands continue their journey downward, over my stomach, across my hips, between my thighs. I spread my legs slightly, inviting his touch.
“You want me again?” he asks, his voice rough with need.
“Yes,” I breathe, turning in his arms to face him.
I reach for the soap, taking my turn to explore him.
His body is a masterpiece—broad shoulders, tattooed chest, sculpted abs. I trace the lines of his tattoos with soapy fingers, learning the stories inked into his skin.
When my hand wraps around his cock, he groans, his head falling back against the shower wall.
“Fuck, Angel.” His hands grip my hips.
I stroke him slowly, loving the power I have in this moment. His eyes are half-closed, his breathing ragged.
Unable to resist, I drop to my knees on the shower floor. I look up at him through my lashes, meeting his blazing gaze as I take him into my mouth.
“Christ,” he growls, his hand immediately tangling in my wet hair.
He doesn’t let me set the pace. Instead, he grips my hair tightly, controlling my movements as he guides my mouth on his cock.
The dominance sends a thrill through me, and I moan around him, the vibration making him curse.
My hand finds his balls, rolling them gently in my palm.
His hips jerk, pushing him deeper into my throat.
Suddenly, he pulls me off him, his chest heaving. “Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.”
I do as he commands, and he strokes himself rapidly, his jaw clenched. With a guttural groan, he comes, hot spurts landing on my tongue and lips.
I swallow every drop, then lick him clean, amazed to find he’s still hard.
“Get up.” He helps me to my feet and spins me around to face the shower wall. “Hands on the wall,” he orders, kicking my feet apart.
I plant my palms against the wet tile, my heart racing with anticipation. He moves my hair off my shoulder and kisses the spot he bit earlier, making me moan.
“I need to be inside you,” he says, his voice strained with need.
“Yes,” I whimper, arching my back to push my ass against him. “God, I need that too.”
He notches his cock at my entrance and pushes in slowly, filling me completely. The new angle is exquisite, hitting spots that make my vision blur.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he growls, setting a punishing pace. “So tight around me.”
His hand comes down hard on my ass, the sting making me cry out in surprise and pleasure.
“You like that, baby?” he asks, spanking the other cheek.
“Yes!” I gasp, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “More, please!”
He obliges, alternating between hard thrusts and sharp slaps to my ass. The dual sensations are overwhelming, pleasure and pain blurring together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
“I’m going to come,” I warn, feeling the pressure building inside me like a volcano.
“Not yet,” he commands, slowing his pace. “Not until I say.”
I whimper in frustration, but the denial only heightens my arousal. He reaches around, his fingers finding my clit, circling it mercilessly.
“Please,” I beg, my legs trembling. “Please let me come.”
His lips brush my ear. “Now, Cali. Come for me now.”
His permission is all I need.
I scream his name as the orgasm rips through me, my entire body convulsing with the force of it. He continues to thrust into me, prolonging my pleasure until I’m gasping for breath.
With a roar of my name, he follows me over the edge, his cock pulsing inside me as he empties himself.
“Fuck!” he snaps as he pulls his softening cock free.
I spin around to face him, confused by his sudden change in mood. “What’s wrong?”
His jaw tightens. “Fuck, baby. I didn’t put on a wrap.”
My eyes drop to his bare cock and widen as the realization hits me. “Shit, shit, shit.” I run a hand through my wet hair, panic rising in my chest. “I’m not on the pill.”
He grabs my hips and pulls me close, his expression serious. “I’m sorry, Angel. If something comes of it, we’ll take care of it.”
I rear my head back, staring at him in disbelief. “What the fuck? I’m not having an abortion if you knocked me up.”
To my surprise, his lips tip up at the corners. “Damn right you wouldn’t.”
My heart is beating a mile a minute. Is he suggesting what I think he is? “Are you saying we’d have a baby? Together?”
He shrugs, but his eyes are intense. “I’ve always wanted more kids.”
“You’re crazy,” I tell him, shaking my head. “We’ve known each other for a day. You can’t just start talking about us having kids. That’s fucking nuts.”
Instead of arguing, he kisses me—long, deep, and wet—effectively shutting me up. When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathless.
“Let’s get out,” he says. “The water is starting to get cold.”