He wouldn’t push her to talk. He realized that much. If there was a risk she would run away from him, he would just have to live without fucking knowing what his mother had said to upset and hurt her.
She stood looking out over the city, and he was struck with a sense of déjà vu for all the nights he had woken up from a nightmare. They hadn’t been sleeping but in essence that was what Erin had just done—woken up from a nightmare. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her middle, warding off the cool breeze. Her gaze was far away, unseeing.
He came to her from behind, putting his arms around her. He held her gently and kissed the top of her head, the same way she had kissed the middle of his back.
“You okay?” he murmured.
“Getting there.” She twined her arms over his, locking them together. “This is helping.”
“Good.” The night air was cool, borderline cold, but soothed him. Still he pulled her in close to keep her warm. “We can find a decent motel on the highway. Stay the night, then head to your mother’s as planned in the morning. Does that sound okay?”
“Sure.” She sighed. “I mean, it sounds like a really good plan. Sorry I’m kind of distracted.”
“Christ, Erin, you keep apologizing.”
“Sorry, I—” She laughed. “I’ll stop.”
He shook his head, a slight smile on his face. God, this woman. He couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to hold her, breathe her in. In all honesty, he wanted to fuck her. He was hard as the fucking rocks around them. Apparently his body hadn’t gotten the message about extreme emotional distress. Or actually it had gotten the message, but it interpreted his adrenaline rush as arousal. Here he was, holding the most beautiful, sexy woman he’d ever known—and his dick had no idea why it couldn’t be in her. He cleared his throat and took a half step back to make sure she wouldn’t feel the erection against her back.
When she rocked her hips back in a sensual, knowing sway, he knew it was too late. She already knew. Now wasn’t the right time. She was vulnerable and hurt. He shouldn’t touch her. But her body invited him in with a soft moan he barely heard over the crickets and the pounding of his heart, and he was helpless to refuse.
Chapter Seven
ERIN TURNED IN Blake’s arms. She knew they had things to discuss. Important things, like whatever doubts she still harbored that had let Bel mess with her head. They needed to talk about them and deal with them… but right now she didn’t have the strength for that. She’d used all she had standing up for herself and holding her head up high in the few minutes it took them to leave the house. And Blake’s arms felt too good—warm and strong and secure. Like she could let go and be completely safe.
And so that was all she wanted to do, let go in the most carnal way, to pant and rock and fuck until she’d lost all thought, until her body was a mindless mass of pleasure.
Blake’s eyes were dark with concern. “Are you sure—”
She silenced him with a hand on his cock. He was already hard as steel in his jeans. She rubbed the taut denim, savoring his rough groan. “Are you?” she asked.
She didn’t mean sex. She meant sure about them. About their marriage. She meant all the deep things she hadn’t wanted to discuss yet.
He grunted and closed his eyes. “Fuck yes.”
He might have meant sex or he might have meant everything. It didn’t matter. Right answer.
She made quick work of his jeans, unzipping them and shoving them down his hips. His cock sprang out, thick and heavy in her hands. “Someone might see,” he warned.
“Let them.” She wanted them to see, the whole city watching. She wanted everyone to know that Blake Morris was hers. And most of all, she needed to show herself it was still true.
He groaned, leaning down for a kiss. It was blunt, that kiss. A little messy. She loved the way he was with her—raw and unchecked. Except he wasn’t really unchecked. Even now, as carnal as he was, he held something back. She’d always assumed it had to do with him. With his time in the army or his perception of himself as a monster.
But a new thought occurred to her, especially after the events of the day, after the careful and cruel incision into her fears. What if he held back because of her. Because he didn’t know if she could handle him.
There was a time she would have scoffed at the idea. Of course she could handle anything he did to her body, her mind. She craved it. But now, feeling stripped down and abraded, she wasn’t so sure. And yet that didn’t stop her from wanting him.
If she was going to break, she wanted him to be the one to break her.
“Fuck me,” she whispered.
“What?” He pulled back to meet her eyes. It wasn’t the language she usually used with him, and there was a question in his eyes. Did she really want this? Was she too upset to make decisions for herself?
It made her angry. And it made her sad. She shoved at his chest with her fists. “I said fuck me.”