Lifting his glass, he took a sip of wine, licking the ruby liquid from his bottom lip before placing the glass on the table. Shit, he even made drinking wine look hot. A shiver of need moved through her. God, she wanted that mouth, that tongue on her.
“What’s on your mind?” he said, jarring her from her wandering thoughts.
She finished chewing her last bite of pizza, then took a gulp of her wine, folded and unfolded the napkin in front of her, trying to find the right way to start. “Um…well, you see…”
“What is it, Rusty?” He’d stopped eating, wiped his mouth and hands on his napkin, and sat back, watching her with an intensity that made her squirm in her seat. His jaw tightened. “Is there someone else?”
“What?”
“I don’t share. We see where this is going, we do it exclusively.”
His posture was stiff, fists clenched in front of him, but dammit, all she could hear was the word exclusively. He didn’t want to share her, and he didn’t plan to date anyone else. She liked that, a whole lot. A smile lifted of its own volition, and then she realized he didn’t look quite as happy as she felt.
“That’s it? You’re seeing someone…”
“No.” She held up her hands. “No, I’m not seeing anyone. I haven’t dated, well, not seriously, in a long time…like, a looong time.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded.
“How long?”
She inwardly winced. “Eight…um, years.”
Silence. “You want to repeat that?” he finally said.
No.
She did some more squirming. “I mean, I’ve had the odd date, but nothing, um…more.” Then, without giving herself a chance to chicken out, she blurted, “What I’m trying to say is, I haven’t slept with anyone in eight years, and that was only the one time. So if you’re expecting some freak between the sheets, you’re dating the wrong woman.” There, she’d said it.
She risked another look at him. He sat there, motionless, like a damn statue, eyes locked on her. She’d shocked him. “Um, Reid?”
“You’re telling me, you have only had sex with one guy? And that was eight years ago…once?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you.” Great, she’d put him off. She’d hoped her lack of experience wouldn’t be a problem, but judging by the expression on his face, she’d been wrong.
“You were what? Seventeen?”
“Eighteen.”
He sat back in his chair again, more emotions moving behind his eyes, but this time she had no hope of figuring them out. “This guy took your virginity, then…nothing?”
“Nothing.”
His gaze turned hard, intense, and his fists clenched again. “He hurt you?”
“No. Nothing like that.” And he hadn’t, not physically anyway. “It was my choice.”
He seemed to relax before her eyes, his fierce gaze still blazing hot, but in a completely different way. She shivered.
“Fuck.” Then he groaned and cursed again.
“What is it?” Okay, he was confusing the hell out of her now. “Is that going to be a problem for you? I just thought you should know…so if we, ya know…you won’t be disappointed.”
He sucked in a shaky breath. “Come here, Foxy.”
They were in a corner in the back of the restaurant, the lighting dim, no one was paying them any attention. She stood and went to him. It seemed she could refuse him nothing.
When she reached his side, he slid those big, warm hands around her waist and pulled her down onto his lap. “Look at me,” he said, like she had an option, like she could do anything else when he was near. “First, there’s no if, there is only when. I’ve already told you I want you in my bed, and that’s gonna happen, yes?”
Her belly fluttered. “Yes.”
“Second, nothing you could do when we’re together could disappoint me, nothing. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered, melting more and more by the second.
“Third.” He shook his head. “Foxy, I don’t think you get how hot that is for a guy, knowing besides one idiot—because it isn’t hard to work out the guy was an idiot—you haven’t let another man inside, haven’t let another man touch your body. And, baby, knowing your first time was your only time, means I’m gonna be the first man to show you what it is to be treated right. The first man to make you come so hard, you scream.”
Heat rushed between her thighs at his dark promise, and she wriggled in his lap, squeezing her thighs together to ease the ache. He wasn’t wrong. Her first time had been awful in more ways than one. There had been only discomfort and humiliation. Common sense told her that her hesitation over having sex again was because of what happened that night. But for the first time since then, listening to the rough, lust-filled edge to his voice, shit, it all just—slipped away. All she could think about right then was how it would feel to have his weight pressing her into his mattress, his mouth on hers, the feel of that big cock, currently digging into her ass, moving inside her.
One of his hands slid into her hair, fisting gently, bringing her in close, his lips an inch from hers. “You want that? You want to know how it feels when a man rides you so hard all you can do is take it, until you explode around his cock, screaming his name?”
She licked her lips. “Yes, I want that.”
The grip on her hair tightened, but instead of kissing her, he buried his nose against her throat, whiskers scraping her sensitive skin. When he spoke, his voice was low, husky. “I can’t wait to give it to you.”
A tremor moved through her, and she gasped when he nipped at her throat, knew he’d felt it when he chuckled darkly against her skin.
“If I slid my hand under your dress, my fingers inside your panties, I know I’d find you wet and hot.” He made a low sound, a combination somewhere between a growl and a groan. “You been taking care of yourself a long time, Foxy. You must be fucking hungry for it. I bet you’re drenched right now.” He nipped her ear. “You drenched, baby?”
Jesus. The things he said—she should probably be pissed, but God help her, she loved it. Loved the rough, crude way he spoke to her. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” she said.
He cursed low, then suddenly she was on her feet. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, threw a pile of cash on the table, then his hand wrapped around her wrist, and he towed her toward the door. He didn’t stop to say good-bye and headed straight to his big black ex-hearse parked around the side of the restaurant.
He unlocked her door first, and she scrambled inside. His opened a second later, and he slid into the driver’s seat. He turned to her, and before she could open her mouth and ask what was going on, his hands were on her hips and she was in his lap, legs bracketing his heavy thighs.
“What are you—”
His hands went to either side of her face, and he pulled her down, their mouths crashing together, all teeth, lips, tongues. Both wanting it all and taking it. His erection was right there, and she couldn’t help but grind down on it, letting out a moan at the exquisite sensation of having him between her thighs. He did some more of that growling she was growing to love, and it egged her on. She moved her hips against his, rubbing his hard, denim-covered cock over her swollen clit, gasping into his mouth every time she rasped over the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“You’re fucking hungry for it, aren’t you, Foxy?”
She couldn’t speak, could only feel. The next thing she knew, she was on her back along the bench seat of the Plymouth, and Reid was between her thighs. “You want to come, beautiful?”
“Yes.” She tried to lift her hips to get more of that amazing friction. “Please.”
One of his hands took both of hers and pinned them above her head, and he looked down at her. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”