Arriving back at my place after the game, Nolan parked under the awning that stretched alongside the building. We sat quietly and watched the sun sink low in the sky. The atmosphere around us took on a hazy glow as day slowly transitioned into night. The warm cab of his truck was scented lightly with the dark notes of his cologne, swamping the space with sexual undertones.
I couldn’t remember ever having more fun. But when I turned to tell him so, the deep, penetrating look in his eyes stole my breath. It was almost like I could read his every thought—and they were searing. His gaze was filled with a dark, primal urge that called to something inside me.
“I’m running from something.” The words sprang from my mouth without warning. And once they were out—hanging between us in the silent cab of the truck—my heart started to pound.
“Care to tell me what, sweetheart?”
I shook my head. “I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he reached over and placed his hand on my knee, giving it a squeeze. “Nothing’s going to get you.”
“No? Why not?” Hope blossomed in my chest, and I hung on to his every word like it was a lifeline.
“Because they’d have to get through me first. And that ain’t fucking happening on my watch.”
My heart slammed against my chest and my breathing shallowed. Those were the best words on the planet; everything I’d longed to hear.
But I knew something he didn’t. Something that would make him put me on the first plane back home without even a good-bye. My secret had seemed too big and important to tell at the time, but now, I wished I’d just come clean from the beginning. Because I knew the truth would have to come out at some point, and by then, it would be a huge, ugly divide between us. An insurmountable lie of omission.
But Nolan didn’t press me, didn’t take me by the shoulders and demand answers like I expected. And his blind trust stung more than if he’d yelled and screamed in my face and demanded I come clean.
I waited for him to say something more, but he didn’t. Which was good, because I didn’t have the answers he needed.
Suddenly, he leaned over and seized my mouth in a possessive kiss. A whimper escaped me and my fingers dug into his shoulders. The kiss turned deep and molten, our tongues dueling for control. I wasn’t about to back down from this big, powerful man who held the promise of my entire future in his hands.
He hauled me across the front seat’s center console to straddle his lap. The massive bulge in his jeans was unmistakable. The man was hung, and apparently his cock was hungry. For me. I wanted to feel it in my hand, in my mouth . . .
“You taste so fucking good.” He grunted, pushing up his erection to brush against my clit.
I groaned as his lips moved down the column of my throat and my hips circled just once, needing to feel the hard ridge of him. Pleasure and warmth ripped through me. Shit. I was quickly becoming addicted to this man.
Suddenly his hands were everywhere—my face, my neck, gripping my waist, caressing the underside of my breasts. Need unfurled inside me. Dying to feel his hands on my skin, I let out a frustrated groan.
“You still want to take this slow?” he asked, his mouth lifting in a smirk.
“Yes. I mean no,” I muttered.
A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest and I hated myself for that slip-up. But something inside me did need to take this slow. Despite my darker motivations, I didn’t think I could give myself to a man who was in another relationship.
“Tell me if I get too rough,” he breathed, his teeth lightly grazing my neck.
Those words sent twin bolts of hot fear and desire through me. His hands moved with grace, yet total control. He gripped both of my wrists in one hand while he devoured my neck, his teeth grazing my collarbone. He was possessive in all the best ways.
With my hands pinned, I was immobile, only able to kiss him back and rub wantonly against him.
His free hand slipped up my side until he reached my chest. My breasts felt so full and achy, as if I could come from his touches there alone.
Nolan’s fingertips grazed my nipple, and even through my bra, the contact was enough to perk it right up. His hand cupped and massaged, and I lost myself in the pleasure.
His kisses were deep and penetrating. I felt them all the way down in my belly, my panties becoming wetter with each flick of his hot tongue. Blood thundering in my ears, I wanted time to stand still so this moment would never have to end.
Raw need stabbed at me. The desire to feel his body joined with mine, to feel him thrust deep inside me was nearly overwhelming. A ragged sob broke from my throat, and Nolan pulled away.
“You like my hands on you, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” I panted out my response, unable to find the words to express just how very much I liked them. Rough. Calloused. Strong, yet so decisive in their movements.
He resumed his sensual assault, kissing and caressing me until I was a sopping-wet puddle of need.