She did as he asked, and he started moving his hips against hers, denim scraping over lace. She lifted her ass higher, seeking more, and he gave it to her, dry humping her in the front of his car like a couple of teenagers.
“I want inside that tight, hot body,” he hissed. “But you’re not ready for what I want to give you, not tonight. You’re not ready for the way I want to fuck you, but I can still make you scream for me.”
He bent down and took her nipple into his mouth, through the light fabric of her dress. The hand not holding her wrists immobile moved down and gripped her ass, angling her hips. She whimpered and thrashed beneath him, desperate, so hot and hungry. She didn’t care that she was all but begging him to make her come, not when she could feel her orgasm racing up on her.
Her inner muscles convulsed, and she moaned long and low. Then Reid bit down on her nipple, and she flew apart, shuddering and crying out his name. The whole time, Reid continued to move on top of her, until she was gasping for breath. She was vaguely aware of him stiffening, a shudder moving through his big body, his deep groan, right before she collapsed in a boneless heap beneath him.
After a few minutes, the silence closed in around them, the only sound Reid’s harsh breathing. His lips brushed her ear. “That was beautiful, sweetheart.” Then a low, almost agonized groan vibrated through his chest. “But shit, Rusty, you made me come in my pants like a fuckin’ horny teenager.”
She blinked up at him. “You what?”
He blew out a breath, and she was sure she could see his cheeks grow red. “The way you came apart for me, the way you responded…” He shook his head and grinned down at her. “Foxy, you made me blow a load in my jeans.”
She couldn’t help it—she felt almost high after the mind-blowing orgasm she’d just had, and the knowledge that she’d made this man, a man who seemed to have control in every aspect of his life, lose it completely…
Plus, the goofy smile on his face was just too damn much. She started giggling.
He smirked. “You think this is funny?”
She nodded, grinning. “No.”
“Woman, you’re killing me here.”
She bit her lip to try to stop the giggles, but it wasn’t working. “I’m not laughing at you, really I’m not.” And she wasn’t, she was just so happy, ridiculously, stupidly so, and then there was the look on his face, he just looked so…horrified. She couldn’t hold it in any longer and completely lost it. Throwing her head back, she laughed her ass off.
A moment later, Reid buried his face against her throat, and she heard it, a sound she knew she’d never get sick of hearing—his deep rumbling laughter.
Chapter Eleven
Reid glanced over at Rusty staring out the window as they drove further out of the city toward his place and wondered what was going on in that head of hers.
The night before, after his complete lack of control, disgracing himself in front of her, he’d reluctantly taken her home. After what she’d told him, he’d needed to get a handle on things. He didn’t care how many men a woman chose to fuck, that was her business, but hearing that Rusty had only been with one guy—once? Shit, he turned into a goddamned caveman. It had been too damn much. Every instinct inside him had screamed to claim her. He’d been in no condition to take things slow, and she deserved better that that. She deserved better than him.
Rusty wasn’t the kind of woman he usually messed with. Shit, he had no business being with her.
She constantly threw him off balance. He barely knew which way was up when she was with him.
He’d seen the innocence in her from the start, but he’d had no idea what it meant. Now he did, and the knowledge only increased his need for her.
Rusty wasn’t used to the games men and women played. She didn’t screw around, and she didn’t give herself to just anyone. Most of all, she didn’t trust easily.
This hadn’t escaped him. Hurting her, using her—could break her.
Yet, here he was, Rusty by his side, heading to his house for dinner. If he had his way, she wouldn’t be leaving until morning. He couldn’t stop this now. Especially after last night.
The way she’d opened up to him. Said she was afraid she might disappoint him. And then, fuck, the way she’d come apart for him, wild and unrestrained. Shit.
He was taking a crazy risk letting her in, but he couldn’t turn away from this, not now. Rusty was special. He knew he didn’t deserve her, but when he was with her, he felt like a different man. And maybe with her—a better man.
For the first time in his life, maybe he could have something good, something sweet and clean and pure.
He felt the weight of her stare and glanced over at her. She looked casual and sexy in jeans and a red T-shirt that draped off one shoulder, showing a good portion of smooth colorful skin. Skin he knew would smell like the vanilla soap she used. “What’re you thinking about, Foxy?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
He grinned. “You sure you wanna know?”
She shook her head and laughed softly. “You never stop, do you?”
“Can’t. Not with you sitting close.” He reached out and rested his hand on her thigh. “You think about what we did in the car last night?”
“I thought about it.” She licked her lower lip.
Jesus.
He gave her thigh a squeeze. “Me too. All damn day. I had to stay sitting behind my desk so I didn’t give the boys the wrong idea.”
She laughed again, this time the way he loved, throwing her head back and letting go. “Oh my God, I would’ve loved to have seen that.”
He gave her another squeeze to get her attention, and she quit laughing. “I want you, Rusty, you know that. But no pressure, okay? We take this as slow as you need, yeah?”
She smiled. “Okay.”
Though he hoped like hell not too slow.
His phone rang beside him, and he glanced down. His mother. Pulling over on the side of the road, he quickly answered it. “Yeah, Ma.”
He could barely hear what she was saying through her sobs, but what he did hear was his father’s name.
Then he heard the banging. The yelling.
Jesus Christ.
“You called the cops?”
“Yes, but I’m scared.”
“I’ll be right there.” He ended the call, swung the car around, and gunned it, heading back the way they’d come.
“What’s going on? Was that your mother? Is she okay?” Rusty’s voice was full of concern.
Why now? Why tonight?
His father always managed to crawl back into his life and fuck it up. Always. Looked as though the old bastard was about to do it again. “Old man’s on a bender, decided to pay her a visit. Looks like you’ll get to meet the folks.”
She remained silent, but he could feel her eyes locked on him. He knew she was taking in the change, could no doubt feel the anger and hatred pouring out of him in waves.
Maybe this was for the best. He couldn’t walk away. He knew that now. And if he didn’t, he’d only drag her down with him, down into the hell that was the reality of his fucked-up life. In some twisted way, he was pleased this was happening tonight. Before he knew what it was like to have her in his bed, how it felt to hold her while she slept, before he lost himself to her completely.
Now he wouldn’t have to push her away. She’d take one look at where he came from, see the toxic crap that ran through his veins, and run in the other direction.
It took ten minutes to reach his mother’s place, a three-bedroom condo on a quiet street. He’d bought it for her a few years ago. He’d wanted to put her in an apartment, one with decent security, but she’d hated the idea. She wanted a garden, and this place had a small patch of grass down the side where she grew vegetables. She loved that damn garden. Spent hours in the thing.