“What?” she asked, her head tilting a bit to the side as she studied him in that way that always let her see too much. But in this moment he had nothing to hide. She’d ripped him wide open.
“You.” He shook his head, his voice shaking a little, too. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
A shy laugh slipped from her lips. “Naw. I’m just kneeling here.”
He touched his thumb to her bottom lip, rubbing the tip across her white teeth. “You were doing a hell of a lot more than that. And now it’s my turn,” he said, quickly grabbing her and pinning her beneath him as he reversed their positions.
“You’re obsessed!” Lily squealed, laughing as he kissed his way down her torso, until he had his broad shoulders wedged between her legs.
He muffled his laughter against her inner thigh. “You complaining?”
“Hardly. It’s just that—”
He cut her off. “Based on the moaning and the screaming you did last night, and in the motel before that”—he lifted his head a little and winked at her—“I kind of thought you like it when I go down on you.”
She blinked at him across the trembling length of her body, thinking he was the most gorgeous man in existence, with that hungry look on his face and his mouth already damp from the way he’d rubbed his lips across her tingling sex before looking at her. “Of course I like it,” she panted. “If I liked it any more, it’d probably kill me. My heart wouldn’t be able to take it.”
He laughed, a crooked grin on his lips as he kept his eyes locked on hers and stuck his tongue out, giving her clit a slow, deliberate lick. “Mmm,” he hummed, pressing his lips to the sensitive bundle of nerves. “I promise not to kill you. So just shut up and let me do my thing.”
And, God, was he good at it. As his eyes slid closed and he tilted his head a bit to the side, he went kind of wild on her, leaving no part of her untouched and untasted, the sounds he made only making her burn hotter. Then he slowed, moving his tongue inch by inch, taking his time, making sure she was feeling every second of it. Cranking the tension to an unbearable level. She could see his right biceps flexing as his arm moved faster and faster, and knew he was touching himself while he went down on her. It was sexy as hell, and she wished she had mirrored doors on the closet so that she could watch him in action.
He brought her off so many times she lost count, the breathtaking orgasms melting into each other until she couldn’t tell them apart. He was groaning now, breathing hard, his clever tongue rubbing across her pulsing entrance, and she knew he was getting close. Wanting to be wicked and turn him on, she reached down and touched her finger to his tongue, feeling it move against her drenched flesh, and he gave a shocked, guttural growl that she understood perfectly: He thought her touching him like that, when he was doing what he was doing, was hot as hell . . . and he was about to shoot his load.
“In my mouth!” she burst out, suddenly pushing against his shoulders.
He lifted his head, blinking, his dark eyes nearly black with passion and lust and achingly emotional things that made her heart skip a beat. “What?”
“I want you in my mouth again,” she said in a rush, already scrambling around so that she could put her mouth on him as he moved to his side, looking dazed, his huge fist still pumping his shaft. She licked her lips, then took that dark, gleaming crown between them, moaning at his hot taste, letting him do the rest. Seconds later, he exploded with a harsh shout, blasting in a series of heavy spurts against the back of her throat, his body shuddering from the violent force of his release.
“Christ,” he groaned, “you really are going to be the death of me.”
She smiled as she scooted up beside him, both of them still breathing a little heavy as they lay on their sides facing each other. He stared back at her with an arrested expression on his face, and then slowly, as if he was waiting for her to tell him no, he pushed his hands into her hair and brought her closer as he shifted forward, touching his mouth to hers. She was shocked, wondering if he would actually go through with it—slide his tongue into her mouth after coming in it—when he did. And there was nothing half-assed about the kiss, either. His hands tightened around her head, and he kissed her harder, clearly getting off on tasting himself inside her.
“Never done this”—his voice was low, rough, his lips rubbing against hers—“but I like the way you taste with a part of me inside you, Lil.”
She licked his lower lip, which was still sticky with her juices. “Me, too. We taste good together.”
“Mmm. We’re good together in lots of ways.”
He froze, and Lily knew he immediately regretted the words. He was probably beating himself up inside for even thinking them.
Pulling back a little, she reached up and pushed her fingers through his thick, glossy locks. And then she said to hell with everything else, and finally asked the question that had been burning inside her for three long, heartbreaking years. “Why did you leave?”
Rolling to his back, he draped a powerful arm over his eyes and winced. “I don’t want to talk about it, Lily.”
She absorbed that for a moment, hating it but knowing that she had to accept it. She couldn’t make him trust her and open up. But she needed something, no matter how small. “Then tell me something else. Anything. Tell me what you did after you left. Why you never called or wrote. Why we never heard from you again.”
“It’s nothing you need to know or hear.” He exhaled a ragged breath, then lowered his arm and turned his head to look at her. “There’s a lot you don’t need to know or hear. Just enjoy the moment.”
She blinked, unable to believe that was his response. “Please, don’t do that. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. I’m not a child.”
His voice was cold. “And I don’t touch you like one.”
“But that’s how you treat me,” she told him, determined not to shout. For once, she didn’t want their conversation to spiral into a pointless argument. She just wanted answers. Just needed to know why things had turned out the way they had. “I don’t need to be coddled, Scott. I just need to be . . .”
“What?”
She gazed at a distant point on the wall over his shoulder, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
“No. Say it.”
She forced her gaze back to his. “You want to know why I waited for you?” she asked, sniffing as she swiped at the hot tears that filled her eyes. “Why I couldn’t lose myself with another man? Why I can be the way I am with you? It’s because I love you, Scott. I’m in love with you. I have been . . . for a long time. For what feels like forever.”
He sat up, giving her his back as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. With his elbows braced on his knees, he hung his head forward, his voice little more than a graveled whisper. “You think you know me, but you don’t.”
She moved to her knees behind him, pressing her hand to the center of his back. “I know I love you.”
“Christ, Lily. Don’t do this,” he groaned, dropping his head into his hands.
She could feel him pulling away from her, closing himself off, and it made her want to scream. And cry. And pray for a way to reach him. “Is this because of your mother? Because of something that happened when you were growing up? Please, just talk to me. I’m begging you.”
He flinched, and the powerful muscles beneath his warm skin went rigid. “There’s nothing to talk about. Just try to get some sleep.”