“It’s not.”
His low chuckle makes me grin. “Shooting ice with your eyes, huh?” His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Been watchin’ too many Disney movies.”
I turn in his arms, and he loosens his hold to allow me room before tugging my body flush with his. He slides his massive thigh between mine, and our legs tangle beneath the sheets. My body warms, and I’m amazed at how even the softest, most innocent touches feel erotic.
He kisses my forehead. “Nervous about today?”
I sigh and nuzzle into his neck. “I don’t want to go.”
“Then don’t.” His tone is serious and laced with anger.
“I have to. You know I have to.”
He nods, but the way his muscles tense says it all. He doesn’t want me to go.
After Hatch was released from the hospital and put in prison, his lawyer said they’d grant my parents and me a private meeting. I immediately turned them down, not interested in hearing what he has to say or bringing up the past that would only upset my mom and dad. But my parents insisted on going. And I can’t let them go alone.
“It’s fucked up I can’t be there with you.”
I peer up into the most loving and loyal set of blue eyes that soothe my frazzled nerves. “His lawyer set the terms. Besides, it’s probably best to keep you two separated.”
“Psht. Guy deserves to get his ass—”
I press my lips to his and hold them there until his muscles unclench and he exhales. “Let’s not talk about him.” I check the clock over my shoulder then turn back to the handsome and nearly naked man in my arms. “I have twenty-five minutes before I have to be in the shower.” I slide my hand beneath the elastic of his boxers and tease him with my fingertips.
He groans.
“There has to be a better way to spend the next twenty-five minutes that doesn’t involve talking about Hatch, right?” I bite my lip to keep from smiling as he flashes me a crooked grin.
He grinds the long and hard muscle of his thigh between my legs, his hands moving to my ass. “I can think of a few things.” He falls to his back, pulling me with him so that I’m straddling his leg. “But it’ll take a fuckuva lot longer than twenty-five minutes.” He nips at my mouth, dragging my lower lip between his teeth.
“Okay, I won’t wash my hair.”
He runs his smooth lips down my jaw to my neck, sucking gently.
“Mmm . . . or wear makeup.”
He smiles against my throat. “So how much time do we have now?”
“Almost an hour.” I bite my lip as his mouth glides against my throat.
“Oh, I can do plenty in an hour.”
“Give me all you’ve got. I’ll need it to get through today.” My hips roll on their own accord, seeking out friction.
“Mmm.” He sucks at my lips. “I’ll leave you aching, baby. Sore and needy.” He lifts his thigh, his hands on my ass, rubbing me to him. “Only thing I want you feeling today is me.”
“It’s not too late to back out.” I watch through my rearview mirror as my mom worries her hands in her lap, her gaze fixed on a lot of nothing outside the car window.
She must know I’m looking, because she simply shakes her head. Her hair is pulled back in a low, loose bun, and the circles under her eyes speak of lost sleep.
“Dad,” I whisper. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
He reaches over and pats my hand. “We already endured the worst of the pain when we lost Lana.”
“I know, but”—my eyes dart from the long stretch of highway to my mom, who’s still gazing out the window—“is rehashing all this good for you guys. I mean I don’t know if mom can handle reliving it.”
“We’ll see.” He turns his gaze out the window, and in minutes, the signs for the State Prison of Nevada come into view.
I pull into the lot, remembering to breathe, not looking forward to being reunited with Hatch, and wishing like hell Mason were here with me.
We walk silently through the lot, and I can’t help but notice the lack of color. The buildings are all the exact same shade of beige as the earth that surrounds them. The pale brown gives it a non-threatening look; like the desert, it appears benign, abandoned of life, when it’s anything but.
We move through the screening process, and once we’re deemed safe, a guard leads us to an empty room. The floors are concrete, and nothing is inside but a metal table and chair bolted to the ground, surrounded by a few foldable ones.
“Have a seat.” The guard is all business as he motions to the flimsy plastic chairs. “Prisoner will be in shortly.”