26. Ryan
TWENTY-SIX
Ryan
June’s been silent the entire way home. Don’t get me wrong, she’s pissed, but quietly simmering Her arms are crossed and she’s glaring out the window like everything outside has personally offended her. She won’t look at me. She won’t talk to me. But you know what? I refuse to regret a damn thing. There was absolutely no way I was going to stay at home or watch from the front of the restaurant while Mr. Fitzpatrick put his hands all over my girl.
He’s lucky I let him leave without a single scratch on him, but that’s used up every ounce of generosity I have right now. If June thinks I’m going to give this up, give her up, she doesn’t know me real well.
She’s going to have to talk to me, whether she likes it or not.
I pull into the parking lot under my building, and as soon as I shift this new SUV into park, June is unbuckling her seat belt and reaching for the door. Unfortunately for her I’m faster, hitting the lock button with one hand and grabbing her arm with the other .
She reacts almost instantly, whipping her head around and pinning me with a glare that would wither the balls of most men. Except I’m not most men. “Let me go, Ryan.”
I don’t fall back. I don’t let her go. Instead, I lean closer, invading her space, and I sure as hell don’t miss the heat that flares in her eyes. “I don’t think so, June. We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.” She presses her lips together and shakes out of my grasp, but I’m too close, and she can’t get far.
“Well, I have a lot to say.” I take a deep breath, running my fingers down the side of her face, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Four years, June. I spent four years trying to forget you, and then you show up one day and change my entire life.”
“I gave you a choice. You didn’t have to be involved with us.” Her voice is barely a whisper, her hands gripping the seat belt, twisting it as much as she can.
“There was no choice, and please don’t think I regret a damn thing where my son is concerned, because I don’t. There was no way I was going to leave him or you. Having a kid at this point in my life was never part of the plan, but now I can’t imagine a life without him. And you ...” I press my forehead to hers, staring into dark-brown eyes and losing myself in her. My voice drops, and every word that follows drips with the pain of my past. “You make me want things, things I haven’t wanted in a long time, and that scares me.”
“You ruined my date.”
“He sold you out for football tickets.”
“Which you offered. You’re unbelievable.” Her laugh is humorless, and she tries to pull back, but I slip my hand around her neck, holding her to me.
And I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant I’d get her to myself. “I didn’t force him to take them. He wasn’t good enough for you. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“And you do?”
“No.” Her eyes widen, and I take another breath, stealing the oxygen straight from her lungs. I need this, I need her, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. If that makes me weak, so be it. “I’m definitely not good enough. When it comes to you, I’m jealous and possessive. I want every fucking man alive to know you’re mine, to know that if they touch you, they’ll have to face my wrath. I wouldn’t sacrifice you to save the world like a good man would, a deserving man. I’d burn everything to the goddamned ground just for one more taste of your lips, to hear your laugh, to fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”
Her gasp is the only sound hanging between us, and for several seconds neither of us moves. I’m drowning in her, only this time I don’t have a lifeline, anything to pull me to the surface. Last time we were together, I let her go. I let her walk away. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make that same promise. Not when there’s a hurricane demolishing me every time I look at her.
The air around us sizzles, crackling with tension.
My heart races.
My insides twist into tiny knots, and I need her to say something.
But she doesn’t.
My fingers feather down her neck as I pull away, giving her space even though that’s the last thing I want.
With a sigh, I unlock the doors. If she wants to go, she can. I’m not going to stop her. Not tonight. Football taught me to pick my battles, and this doesn’t seem like one I’m going to win. Not if she won’t talk to me. I acted like a caveman, I ruined her date, and if she needs time to process, I’ll give it to her. I’m not giving up, but I can give her a day.
As much as it kills me to see her walk away, I know this time it won’t be permanent.
I close my eyes, leaning my head against the seat, fully expecting to hear the door slam as she runs to the elevator, only it never comes.
Her hand lands on my upper arm, and I stiffen, waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. But I’m met with more silence. My eyes fly open, and as soon as I turn her way, she’s over the center console, and climbing in my lap.
I don’t have time to react, to think. Her hands are on my shoulders, running through my hair, gripping the short strands. She tilts my head back, and we stare at each other. Her breaths are coming in shallow pants, and her beautiful eyes are darkened, swirling with a heat that doesn’t come close to the lust burning through my entire being.
Lust that crashes through me as her mouth crashes to mine. I didn’t realize how lost I was, how much I’ve truly missed her until this moment. Her tongue slides into my mouth, and I can taste a hint of the white wine she had with dinner.
Her date.
The thought activates the primal side of my brain, and I take over the kiss, gripping her hips so tight I know she’ll be wearing my bruises tomorrow. Good. Maybe she’ll realize whom she belongs to.
I plunge my tongue into her mouth, exploring her with raw desperation. She consumes me, yet I can’t get enough. Can’t get close enough. Can’t get enough of her taste, her smell, how fucking at home she feels in my arms. She’s my drug, and like an addict I keep coming back for more .
With every swipe of her lips, every little whimper, every fucking time her fingers tighten, digging into flesh, she destroys me. Brick by brick, she decimates everything I am.
If we weren’t in my car, in a parking garage, I’d be tempted to tug down my jeans, pull aside her panties, and fuck us both into oblivion. But I can promise you, the first time I plunge inside this woman after four goddamn years of craving her won’t be in a car. It’s going to be in my bed, where I can worship her for hours, remind her what it was like between us. And fucking destroy her for any other man.
Just from this one kiss, I’m already hard as steel, and it doesn’t take June long to groan, grinding herself along my length.
Fuck that feels good.
My hands slip under her dress, my fingers digging into her soft thighs as I rock my dick against her clit. She groans again, her arms wrapping around my neck, and I continue to fuck her mouth with my tongue. June doesn’t retreat, she doesn’t hold back, she meets me stroke for stroke. She kisses me like she’s almost as desperate as I am.
I need more—more of her mouth, more of her taste, more of those guttural noises she’s making at the back of her throat.
She’s branding me, my soul, and turning me completely inside out.
My dick throbs, painfully hard in my jeans, and I rub her core along my length over and over, grinding my erection into her clit.
June breaks away from me with a cry, tossing her head back, and the horn blares. We both jump, her hands flying up to cover her mouth, and she gasps. Reality crashes down around us, and while the moment may be over, this is only just beginning.