Chapter 18 #2
“My girl,” she whispers, her eyes staring at the floor by the wonky bookshelf.
“Do you want me to stop saying it?”
She swallows, her mug resting on the table. After a beat, her eyes meet mine as she sets her shoulders back and says, “I don’t know yet.”
I drain my mug and pluck her clothes from the chair and slide them across the table. “If you’re staying, you help hunt.”
“Hunt?” Worry and anticipation mingle through her brown eyes, her lips parted.
“For food, Jane.”
She chuckles and fists her clothes, sliding them closer. “Okay, Tarzan.”
“You won’t catch a thing wearing a blanket, baby.”
“I won’t?”
The look in her eyes transforms. It’s darker, like the color I saw in them a day ago. Instead of asking for or taking what she wants, she simply stares at me.
I’m hard at just the storm in her eyes. Her hand falls away from the center of her chest, letting the blanket slip away.
Christ.
I’m supposed to be clearing my head.
Making smart decisions about this.
Doing what’s in her best interest.
Not entertaining the urge to bend her over the table and slam into her so fucking hard she screams my name and milks me dry.
But those are the very images that commandeer my brain as every last drop of blood sinks to my aching cock.
“I—” she starts as color fills her neck and face, her fine fingers grappling to pull the blanket back up.
I snatch up her hand and move between her legs. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”
“We don’t have to . . .”
I grip her chin with my other hand. “No, we don’t. But you wanted something, or you wouldn’t have dropped the blanket. Wouldn’t have braved a storm to find me.”
Her breaths have turned choppy. Her nipples are hard points. My mouth waters, desperate to draw them in. To suck them between my teeth and bite at the soft flesh surrounding them.
Fuck. I have no control around this woman.
No one has pushed me to this point, to the point where I barely have a semblance of say in how I respond.
Ever.
“Show me how much you want it. Convince me, baby girl.”
Her hands brush over her face before fisting at her hips. Wriggling in her seat a little, her gaze darts around the room as if what she needs is anywhere but with the man in front of her.
She’s flustered.
I hate how much I love seeing her needy. Besides, she started this, and I’m going to make sure she damn well finishes it.
“I want to see the woman, Evie. Not the little girl who’s too afraid to take what she wants.”
She huffs a breath. With a swallow, she closes her eyes and pushes to her feet. The chair scrapes backward, and she moves until mere inches separate us. We’re chest to chest, but I don’t move.
Her eyes open, and she moves one elegant hand to her breast.
With one finger, she circles a pert nipple, drawing my attention to the display. “Here is where I want it... You.”
I raise a brow.
That fucking bottom lip slips between her teeth. I tilt my head in warning.
“Not convinced,” I rumble.
Liar.
I’m a goddamn liar. A liar with a rock-hard cock that throbs with an ache that’s going to take me down any second. But this isn’t about me.
“What do you want, then?” she whispers.
“It’s what you want, remember?”
“This feels like begging.”
I smirk at her. “That would work.”
Her face hardens and she slides a hand down her belly. I can’t pull my gaze from her fingers as they disappear into her pussy. Her lips part, her breathing ratcheting up a notch. Her face slackens for a heartbeat until she pulls her fingers out.
My lungs cave in with each heavy breath as she raises her hand and... slips her fingers between my lips.
Fuuck.
I grab her hips and throw her up on the table on her ass.
A sweet little squeak turns to a whimper as I sink onto the chair, push her thighs wider than is polite, and tug her hips to the edge of the table.
Propped up on her hands, her hair hangs behind her back, brushing across the tabletop.
Her perfect fucking pussy glistens with her slick need.
Christ almighty.
I thumb her sweet little clit, and she squirms on the table, eyes snapping up. Desperate to savor her, I sweep two fingers through her center and study her reaction.
Her mouth opens on a long moan, and I exchange my fingers for my tongue. She tastes so goddamn incredible. I sweep through her, her soaked entrance covering my tongue. God, I could blow from the taste of her.
“Callum,” she rasps.
“More, baby girl?”
“More.”
I lick her clit, sinking two fingers inside her, and she tightens around me. Lapping and suckling her clit, I pump my fingers in a steady rhythm, curling them forward as she bucks, setting the rickety old table wobbling under her weight.
What I wouldn’t do to be balls-deep inside this woman.
The way she riles me up, with just the bare minimum.
It’s too fast.
Too much.
The fact that I’m falling for the little twentysomething who showed up at the marina and turned my life upside down... It’s?—
I—
Fuck .
Hands slide into my hair, and I realize I’ve stilled.
“Hey, what is it?” The softest brown eyes find mine.
“We—I—nothing, it’s nothing.” I dip my head to continue.
Her hands capture my jaw, tilting my head up. “No, it’s not nothing. Tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out. We don’t have t?—”
I push to my feet, and her hands fall from my face.
It’s more than too much.
Not only is she the softest place I’ve ever wanted to fall, even the slightest touch from her sets me on fire.
An impossibility.
She’s almost half my age.
She’s not staying.
I’m the world’s biggest idiot. This can only end badly. I don’t get this type of relationship. Life would never allow it.
“Get dressed, mo nighean. We need to hunt.”
Now the hurt in her eyes is not her own. It’s for me.
Another reason this is a fucked-up idea. Because it doesn’t feel like fooling around anymore.
Not to me, at least.