My body bucked up and down on his, my clit begging for friction against his thick denim-covered cock. Feeling how virile and masculine he was made me forget about every silly worry I’d had before. I wanted the dark, rough ride he promised—as hard as he could dish it out.
Despite my best efforts, his military-inspired discipline shone through. He kissed hard, nipping at my lips, yet didn’t try to press me to take things further. But the rumble in his chest signaled he wasn’t immune to my movements against him.
A rough sound pushed past his lips, somewhere between a grunt and a gasp.
I wanted to hear him make that sound again, and as often as possible. My movements grew frantic and, impossibly, I felt myself building toward climax. Even fully clothed, that didn’t stop him from nursing an orgasm from my body.
God, how good would it feel if we were naked?
“Let go, sweetheart,” he said softly against my neck.
Before I had a chance to ask him what he meant, he cupped both my breasts, rolling my nipples between his thumbs and fingers, and I bucked wildly against him.
“Come for me,” he commanded again. “I want to watch those gorgeous sapphire eyes glaze over with lust.”
My body, having gotten the permission I didn’t know it needed, started the quick ascent to orgasm. My tender flesh throbbed, my clit pulsing in time with my rapid heartbeat.
I could feel the heat of him through my jeans and rocked back and forth, my climax right there, so close . . .
“I’d rather be inside that pretty cunt of yours, but ride it, baby, take what you need,” Nolan whispered in my ear.
His filthy encouragement did me in. I fell over the edge, my body trembling as a powerful orgasm crashed through me, making me cry out. Blinding pleasure sprinted through my veins and drowned out everything around us.
As aftershocks pulsed through my body, I buried my face in his neck, my heart racing. I should have been embarrassed about riding him like a mechanical bull in his truck, but my lust had driven out any shame.
Realizing I was still planted in his lap, I climbed back over into the passenger seat of the truck, discreetly checking Nolan’s lap to make sure I hadn’t left a wet spot there. God, that’d be embarrassing. He wasn’t wet, but he was still rock hard, the entire front of his jeans bulging.
Unable to tear my gaze away from his erection, I asked, “Don’t you want me to . . . ?”
“No. You don’t have to.” His gaze was laser-focused on me, genuine concern in his eyes. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Of course. I’m fine,” I said. Something clicked in my brain. A sour voice whispered, Maybe he hasn’t pushed you for sex because he’s getting it from someone else. The realization stung hot and bitter in the center of my chest.
“I should go,” I said, drawing my purse into my lap.
Thinking about Daniella shouldn’t bother me so much. I shouldn’t care why Nolan didn’t want me to get him off. But my throat was still knotted with disappointment.
“Hey. Just breathe.” He used two fingers under my chin to bring my gaze to his. “I can’t promise you romance, and I sure as fuck can’t promise you forever, but I can offer you this. Now. And I promise everything I’m feeling for you is real.”
I nodded, still dizzy from the power of my earlier release, and utterly confused about where this was all heading. I was starting to feel something real for him too.
And that was very, very dangerous.
Concepts like right and wrong, single or attached seemed murky at best.
I wanted him—plain and simple. But would he still want me when he learned the truth?
“I’m going to be out of town for a couple of nights,” he said finally. “But I’d like to hang out again when I get back.”
I nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.” I stumbled from his truck, still in a daze, wondering where this path could possibly lead me.
Chapter Eight
I’ve been watching you. I know your routines, your habits. You come home from work, dead tired, and sometimes make yourself a cocktail while you turn on the TV—not to watch it, just for the background noise. Then you take a long shower that fills the bathroom with steam.
When you emerge from the shower, you’re more clear-headed and calm. But you always worry . . . I know it. I see the stress etched into your brow.
I know you wonder. About me. About the future. You do a damn good job pushing those worries away; I’ll give you that. But not quite good enough.
I know your secrets, your desires, and the skeletons you’d prefer remained hidden. The closer I get, the more you pull away.
It’s strange how connected we are, yet you have no idea. No fucking clue about everything I’ve been through.
I’m almost done waiting. Almost ready to take back what’s mine.
Chapter Nine
Nolan