“What?” she asks playfully, a grin tugging at her lips. “After what you did to me on the bathroom counter, you still won’t let me touch you? Seriously?” She’s playing. And I know it. But I don’t want to explain it. I cup her neck with my hand, and I feel a soft purr in her throat. God, I want her so bad.
“I enjoyed what I did to you on the bathroom counter,” I say as I touch my lips to hers. I lick across the seam of her lips, and she opens for me. Her tongue is a velvet rasp against mine, and I can imagine her taking my dick in her mouth and licking across it the same way. I groan into her mouth, and she steps up on tiptoe to get closer to me. Her hands slide around my neck, her tits pressed against my chest.
She lifts her head so I can see her lips. “When do I get to return the favor?” she asks. Her cheeks color prettily, and I can tell asking the question embarrasses her. God, she’s so damn cute.
I shake my head. “Not going to happen.”
She pulls back farther, her brows drawing together into a crease. “How long are you going to stick to that rule?” she asks.
“As long as it takes for you to trust me.”
“I trust you now,” she protests.
She doesn’t. If she did, she would tell me her secrets. “No, you don’t.”
“There are just some things I can’t tell anyone.” She takes my face in her hands. “Even you.” Her breath rushes against my lips and it’s all I can do not to press her against the wall and sink inside her right here and now. I could have her jeans off in seconds. Her legs around my waist. She breaks me from my haze of lust when she says, “I want to tell you everything.”
“You don’t have to tell me everything. But you can’t hold back from me.”
She lets me go and steps back, her breath rushing from her. I can feel the blast of it against my chin. “You mean like you’re holding back from me.”
I jerk her back to me, and she pushes away. She’s irked. I try to explain. “If I ever get to fucking be inside you, I want to know what to call you. I want to at least know your name. Because when that happens, you’re going to fucking own me.” I tip her face up so she’s looking at me. “Do you understand?”
She looks unsure.
“You’re going to own me.” I jerk her hips to mine, letting her feel how much I want her. “And there’s nothing I want more.”
I step back, brush her hair from her face, and open the door, tugging her by her fingertips until she follows me. She’s dragging. She tugs on my hand until I look at her.
“I want everything you want,” she says. She’s not looking me in the eye. So, I wait for her eyes to open. They finally do. She meets my gaze. “I do want everything you want. I just can’t have it.”
I lay her hand on my chest, and spread her fingers over my heart. “You already have me.” I laugh. “You had me from that first moment in the shop.” I hold up my arm, so she can look closely at her tat. “I’m wearing your fucking brand, damn it.” I tip her face up to mine. “What are you afraid of? You’re hiding from something. I know it. But I don’t know what.”
She bites her lower lip between her teeth and worries it. I tug it free with my thumb and lean down, sucking it between my lips. She steps onto her tiptoes and growls against my lips. I set her back and away from me, and I can feel the rumble in her chest as she moves.
“I’ll tell you. I can’t tell you everything. But I can tell you some of it,” she says.
My heart swells. I take her hand and lead her into the apartment. The whole place is quiet. Everyone is already in bed. “Want to take a shower?” I ask her. She sweated the night away.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” she says, looking everywhere but at me.
“I do.” And I don’t. Now I’m really afraid. “Take a shower and then we can talk until the sun comes up, if you want.”
She nods and bites her lower lip, which sends a kick straight to my gut. Then she turns from me. Suddenly she spins back. She grins and jerks her thumb toward the bathroom. “You want to join me in the shower so we can talk in there?”
Something tells me that if we end up in the shower, we won’t be doing much talking. “We’ll talk when you get out.”
Her bottom lip pokes out. But then she shrugs and says, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
Emily
I shower quickly, trying to put my thoughts in order. I have to be really careful about what I tell Logan, mainly because there are so many people looking for me. I still see the lost posters at times. And there are news blasts sometimes with pictures of the old me. They’re of the me who had dark blond hair, pretty headbands, and shoes that cost more than the Reeds’ monthly budget. I ignore them, telling myself that person no longer exists. It’s easier that way.