She finally meets my gaze, her blue eyes even brighter with the wetness of her emotions coating them.
“I’m not leavin’.” Out of everything she just said, the only thing I can even get past my lips is that. There is so much that I need to tell her, but I’m not even sure where to start. I just know I need to address her claim that I’ll be hauling ass out of here because if she truly believes that, it doesn’t matter what else I say to her. She’ll be waiting with the rest of the town, guessing when I’ll be kicking up dust like the last time I left.
Her lips open and close, but no words come out. I can see her mind working in overtime as her brow furrows and her eyes search mine. I stand tall and drop my guard, letting her see the honesty and truth behind my words. Her eyes widen when realization hits. I continue to stand there as she studies me.
The years drop away from us.
The pain inflicted and the pain consumed, vanish.
The helpless feelings I battled with daily, the ones that drove my need to escape, are gone.
For the first time in my recollection, I feel somewhat whole. My breathing speeds up as my nerves fire with an overwhelming need. There isn’t anything spoken between us, but with the connection of our gazes, we might as well have spoken our deepest thoughts.
I step toward her the second she jumps up from the stool, the wood crashing to the ground in her wake. In a split second, everything falls away. The anger, the helplessness, and the lost feelings I’ve been struggling with. Gone. And in its wake, a feeling of need so strong it knocks the breath from my chest, takes over, and I know I have to have her back in my arms.
“This can’t happen,” she says with a gasp when my arms wrap around her to pull her closer, her words breathy against my lips. The soft cotton of her shirt rubbing against my naked, overheated chest.
“It can.” My arms snake around her narrow body to pull her closer.
“This is a mistake,” she slurs, her mouth opening and our tongues sliding against each other.
Her words fuel my movements and settle a determination over me that demands I prove her wrong. This is far from a mistake. This is a lifetime of want combusting in a split second of affirmation that proves just how wrong she is.
With her still in my arms, I turn, placing her ass on the counter. Just like back at the PieHole, everything else wrong in my life slips away and only my desire for her is left. Everything I ignored years ago floods through my system, mixing and mingling with the new feelings seeing her again after all this time brought forth. It’s too soon, but in the same breath, it’s ten years too late.
Her hands move sluggishly up my chest, around my shoulders, and then her dexterous fingers push into my hair. Her thumbs stay resting against my face as those very fingers tighten against the short hair at the nape of my neck to pull me closer. Her movements signaling to my brain that she’s giving in to what our bodies so desperately want.
She shivers in my arms and I use her distracted state against her. Deepening our kiss while I move my hands from where they had been resting against her hips, up her torso, pushing the fabric of her shirt up as I go. The second my calloused palms hit her rib cage, she squirms, wiggling her hips on a low moan. I step closer, feeling the heat of her through the barrier of my towel and her shorts, and when I press my thumbs against her pointed nipples, she jumps in my arms, connecting our bodies, hip to hip.
We break apart with heaving breaths. Her glazed eyes hooded, her cheeks pink with arousal, and her lips swollen from my kisses. She looks stunning. I give a slight jerk of my wrists, indicating my intentions, and she silently lifts her arms, allowing me to pull her shirt free of her body.
“Jesus.” I harshly groan at the first sight of her blood-red, lace-covered tits.
My head drops and I open my mouth to give a soft bite against the sensitive flesh at the top of her bra. The red material against her creamy skin makes my cock swell painfully against the towel tied hastily at my hip. I bring my hands up, cupping her heavy breasts, while I give her one long lick over the top of her left breast and up to her collarbone. My hands squeeze each globe roughly as I bury my nose in her neck, continuing my tongue’s wet path up to her ear.
Resting my lips to her ear, I take a second to enjoy the trembles that are vibrating from her quivering body. Her panted breaths echoing off the wall turn into a sharp gasp when I curl my fingers into each cup and jerk down. The tiny straps over her shoulders snap as her breasts spill free. With my mouth still at her lips, I grab her heavy, naked breasts and squeeze, her hard nipples pressing against the center of my palm while I continue to play with her.
“Touch me,” I demand and smile when I feel her body jolt beneath me.
“Mav,” she says with a moan, her hands coming to rest right above my towel, on each side of my hips, making my skin burn beneath her touch.
I shake my head, my lips rubbing against her ear with the small movements. I let my tongue snake out and lick her lobe. Moving my hands slightly, I pinch her nipples between my thumb and pointer finger at the same time I pull her wet lobe between my lips, biting softly before sucking the tender flesh hard.
She cries out harshly.
Releasing my hold on her tits, I bring my hands up and cup her head, forcing her to look into my eyes. “Touch me, Leighton,” I demand again, this time harsher and the undeniable meaning laced in my words. I wait for her to comply, moving so that my forehead is resting against hers, our rapid breathing mingling between our bodies. Our eyes not losing the connection held between bright blue and murky green.
“This is wrong,” she whimpers, but her actions betray her words.
I feel her hands slide from my sides to the center of my abdomen. Her touch branding me as she fingers her way over each ridge and dip before moving down to where I want her touch the most. Her fingers curl into my towel and I back my hips up slightly to help her movements. She gives a hard tug, pulling the knot from its fold, and then drops the cotton to the ground at my feet, her eyes still holding mine. This time the indecision that had been swimming in the beautiful depths is now replaced with solid desire.
“Tell me you want me,” I command, my voice strained as her hands move down my torso, her fingers tracing the deep V until she is wrapping them around my straining flesh. Her tentative movements as she slowly caresses the hard flesh in her hands make me lock my knees and clench my gut. Her long and slow touch makes the coil of pleasure tighten.
“I—I want you,” she pants, her hands tightening around my shaft, learning what I like by the cues she is drawing from me.