"I know what June told me," River said. "I somehow doubt that's the whole story."
I shrugged. "Not much more to it than what she told you, probably. Mason had it roughest growing up, out of all of us, not being blood-related to the asshole. I don't remember much of it, not really - Killian and Luke remember more, but that's the way they told it. Got away from our place, worked as a ranch hand on June's dad's ranch. He and June's sister had a thing. Anyway, he killed June's parents drunk driving, died in the accident. June's sister killed herself."
"It happened a long time ago," River said, more of a question than a statement.
"I don't even remember it. I was too young," I said. "Just the aftermath. Mom already had a black mark on her from the beginning, showing up in town pregnant and young, running away from her home. Add my father to the mix, the fucking town drunk, a mean sonofabitch, and...then, the accident after that."
"You were like pariahs, then."
"Small town bullshit."
"Growing up an outsider...it sticks with you forever," River said. "Makes it hard to trust people."
What the fuck would River Andrews know about being an outsider? Millions of adoring fans, a job most people dream of... she acted like she knew something about this kind of family bullshit? I looked into her eyes, at the sincerity etched into her features.
Yeah, right. She didn't know about this kind of thing. She was an actress.
“Why the fuck are we even talking about this?” I asked, pulling her toward me. “How bout a little less talking and a lot more fucking?”
River bit her bottom lip, but she couldn't hide her grin. “Show me what you’ve got, then.”
I collapsed against him, my breath still ragged even in the afterglow of sex, and pulled the blanket tighter against us, seeking his warmth but still shivering.
“You’re shivering,” Elias said. “I guess I’m going to have to fucking warm you up again, huh?”
I laughed him off. But the truth was, Elias had my body aching for him, even after he’d just been inside me. I’d never known that with any other man - it had to be some kind of primitive evolutionary thing, the way he set me off.
“Maybe back at the house,” I said.
“You don’t want to stay out here?” Elias asked.
“You’re joking, right?”
“No,” he said. “I thought it would be romantic, out here under the stars. There have only been a few sightings of bears in the past few years, I think, and the coyotes don’t generally attack humans.”
“Hilarious,” I said. “You forget I’m not exactly a complete city slicker.”
“Let’s go back to the house. I can’t promise I’m going to keep my hands off you on the way back, or that we won’t have to stop for a detour, though.”
His words sent a rush of arousal through me. “I hope that’s a promise,” I said.
He kept his word.
We weren't a few miles down the road when he reached over and slid his hand between my legs.
I let out an involuntary gasp.
"Unbutton your pants," he said, his voice gruff.
"Why?" I asked, more of a reflexive response than anything else. No man ordered me around the way Elias did. I didn't know if I liked it or hated it.
Of course, no man had me instantly wet the way Elias did, either.
This was very much not who I was, the way I was with him, practically panting, begging for sex.
"Because," Elias said. "I asked you to."
It was a non-response, and it made no sense at all that I just did what he said. But I did. I raised my ass off the seat of the car, and I slid my jeans back down over my hips, my thumbs hooked under the sides of my panties, before I sat back down, my ass bare on the cool leather seat. My heart thumped loudly in my chest with the anticipation of him touching me.
But that's not what he did.
"I want you to touch yourself," he said.
"What?" I couldn’t quite believe that he was so forward, regardless of all that I've heard come out of his mouth so far.
"You heard me," he said. "I want you to put your hands between your legs and touch yourself. I want you to come for me."
"Why don't you just bring your hand over here?" I asked, but I was already stroking my clit, my finger moving absently around as I waited for his response.
I felt like I was on display. That's what he wants, I thought.
"Because I want to see you do it," he said.
I wanted him to put his fingers inside me. I wanted to feel the rough calluses on the tips of his fingers as he stroked my swollen clit. I meant to ask him what the calluses were from. Instead, I whispered, “Then tell me what you else want to do to me.”
He raised his eyebrows, and glanced over at me quickly. “I’m not going to tell you what I want to do. I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do to you...in, oh, about fifteen minutes.” He paused, and I moved my fingers in circles around my clit while I waited for him to tell me more.
"Ok, then," I said, my fingers still moving. "What are you going to do to me?"