by Maisey Yates
Rebecca wasn’t that. She never could be. She was challenging, she was angry and she wasn’t after his body simply because she thought he was hot. There was something else happening here, and he knew it. But he also didn’t want to press.
He had too much on his plate as it was. But this was the kind of distraction that he needed. Actually, fighting with Rebecca in general was a welcome distraction. Otherwise, all he was left with was his family. Family that had become a group of strangers.
Yeah, he’d rather fight with Rebecca any day of the week.
He let out a long sigh as she closed the door, then he got into the truck, starting up the engine and putting it in Reverse.
Rebecca was quiet as they drove onto the highway, quiet as they continued on down the road.
He didn’t like this. This pause before the action. It gave him too much time to think. He was afraid it might be giving her too much time to think. He should want her to change her mind, to turn back. Because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this wasn’t going to end well. Still, he was looking forward to the getting there.
He was that simple. Apparently.
It was a bit of a drive from town up to the lake and the silence began to expand until it was bigger than the cab of the truck. Talking to Rebecca would be a mistake, though. It inevitably was. They didn’t have much of anything to say to each other that didn’t end in a fight. He was much more fond of the way they interacted physically than the way they interacted verbally.
“What changed your mind?” It was Rebecca who broke the silence.
“My dick.” He gritted his teeth, tightening his hold on the steering wheel. If that put her off because it was crass, it was probably for the best.
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered by that or not.”
“Not,” he said. “In fact, you should probably let that offend you real good. You should probably go ahead and run the other way.”
“There you go getting cold feet again,” she said, shaking her head. She planted her boot-clad foot up on the dash of the truck and his body turned to granite.
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was bathed in the pale moonlight shining through the windshield, casting her skin in an otherworldly glow. He could see a tempting expanse of side, revealed from where her boot ended just at her knee, and ending at the short hem of her dress, which had ridden up thanks to the position she was sitting in.
“Me? I don’t have cold feet. Honey, I’ve had more hookups than I can count. In fact, I purposely stopped counting at a certain point because I gotta say, it’s not something I’m particularly proud of. This is just one more. But, I am giving you a chance to back out.”
She was silent for a moment, and he snuck another glance, took in the mutinous set of her jaw. “Thanks for letting me know,” she said, her tone casual. “I’ll make sure I don’t fall in love with you.”
“I don’t think there’s any danger of you falling in love with me, but you might get addicted to me.”
She laughed. “Wow, that’s quite an ego you have there.”
“My ego isn’t the most impressive thing I’ve got, honey. That may be a problem for you.” He hated himself right now. Hated the cocky, stupid words coming out of his mouth. He was trying to put her off, even while he hoped that she wouldn’t ask to be taken home.
He couldn’t do a damn thing he set his mind to. Not when it came to making decisions that were better for other people, rather than for himself. He had made it a point to do one thing. To stay away from Rebecca. To try and fix some of her circumstances rather than breaking her down even more.
He held his jaw so tight it hurt. Yeah, he was doing a stellar job.
“Don’t worry about my feelings,” she said. “Just this once, okay?”
She sounded so much softer than he’d ever heard her sound, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. It was easier when she fought him. Easier when she threw herself against him and he could just kind of take it. Take all that anger and let her pour it into him. He was comfortable with that. Part of him even liked it. This… This meant he had to maybe do something. Reach out, comfort her.
He didn’t know how to do that. He could be her punching bag forever and a day. But anything else? Yeah, that was a little bit beyond him.
But, she wasn’t asking for anything much. He might not be able to offer comfort, but he could make her come. He figured that was good enough.
Actually, maybe he was the one being stupid thinking of sex as something that would damage her. Clearly, she had no issue going out and getting it if she wanted it. She was a strong woman. Who knew what she wanted? Maybe it would be best for both of them. Break a little bit of tension.
Because God knew there was tension.
“I won’t worry about it,” he said.
He turned the truck off the main highway and onto the narrower, windier road that led up to his place.
He pulled into the driveway, his body filled with tension as he turned the engine off and turned to face Rebecca. She was staring straight ahead, through the windshield still, her posture stiff.
“Rebecca,” he said, “are you having second thoughts?”
He hated himself for asking that question, mostly because he was afraid that she would say that she was having second thoughts and she wanted to go home instead of to his bed. But, this was the last time he was going to ask. After this, he wasn’t going to be able to stop. If he touched her again, it was over. That meant he had to take this moment, this pause, to make absolutely certain.
She didn’t say anything. Instead, she reached across the space between them and wrapped her arms around his neck, launching herself at him as she claimed his lips with her own. He grabbed hold of the back of her head, lacing his fingers through her hair and holding her tight as he staked his claim on her mouth. He tasted her, deep and long, and he let himself forget everything except how much he wanted her. Let his body drain completely of all the tension that he’d been carrying inside from the moment he’d come back to town.
There was no room for it. He was too filled with her. With how much he wanted her. How much he needed her. Ironic, that it was Rebecca who was finally making him feel at home. Like something other than a puzzle piece shoved into the wrong puzzle, trying to fit when he belonged anywhere else.
Rebecca tasted like home. Like the ocean and the pine trees, like regret and a raw, aching need that he knew would never go away no matter how many places he went to, no matter how long he stayed. He would always miss Copper Ridge as it was when he was younger. As it could be in a memory only, or in a strange moment that seemed to stand outside of time. A heartbeat that existed outside her body, when things still seemed simple and beautiful.
Before everything had been ruined by reality. Before he had ruined it for himself. For himself, for his family, for Rebecca.
This was like a little slice of that feeling. That feeling that had been lost to him for so many years. The sun filtering through the trees, a glimmer on the waves and a sense of endless possibility that had long since been drained out of him.
He growled, changing the momentum of the kiss, pressing her against the passenger door of the truck. He stripped his jacket off, flinging it to the side, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her breasts firmly against his chest as he settled between her thighs. The gearshift dug into his ribs, but he didn’t care. He kept on kissing her. She slipped her hands up around his neck, then let her fingertips drift to his face, holding him steady as she returned his kiss with all the ferocity that he poured out into her.
He slid one hand down her back, all the way down to the curve of her ass, urging her to press herself against him, to arch the cradle of her thighs against his cock. He growled, swearing into her mouth as that gentle pressure of her body on him sent a lightning bolt of sensation straight through him.
He shoved his other hand up underneath her dress, his fingertips skimming over soft skin, resting his palm on her hip, teasing her by pushing
one finger, then another, beneath the elastic waistband of her panties.
She gasped, wrenching her mouth away from his. “Inside?”
“Maybe in a minute,” he said, kissing her again, sliding his tongue against hers and groaning at the slick friction.
“Please?”
He looked down at her, trying to catch his breath, trying to get a hold of his racing heart. He was tempted to tell her he didn’t have a second to waste. That he had a condom in his wallet and he needed to use it now.
“Sure,” he said, his voice a rasp of need.
He released his hold on her, pressing his hands against the bench seat of the truck and pushing himself up. He was shaking. Dammit, he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Probably not since he was a sixteen-year-old virgin making out in his truck for the first time.
He opened up the driver side, getting out on unsteady legs before making his way around to the passenger side. He opened the door slowly, and Rebecca tilted partway out, still lying down in the seat, looking up at him from her strange position.
In spite of himself, he laughed. “Are you coming?”
“Oh, I hope so,” she said, rolling to the side, ending up on her knees on the floorboard of the truck, before sliding out onto the ground.
He reached down, grabbing hold of her hand and tugging her up, then against him. He kissed her nose, and she giggled. Which was basically the last sound he had ever expected to come out of her. “You’re sure you’re not drunk?”
“Just… I’m so turned on. We have to go inside.”
A rush of air escaped his body, and he swept her up into his arms, grabbing her like he was a villain in an old movie, which he basically was. Then, he strode across the driveway, up the steps and into the house.
He continued on through the living area, and up the stairs, heading straight to his bedroom. He set her down, right in front of the bed, and when he looked at her face, her eyes were huge, glittering.
“Full-service,” he said, leaning forward, kissing her lightly on the lips, then again on the chin, and down her neck. “I aim to please.”
“I—I…” She seemed completely incapable of speech. Which was fine with him. If she could still talk, he wasn’t doing his job. He didn’t want conversation. Not now.
“Quiet,” he said, biting her lower lip. She complied. Then, he returned to the business of making love to her mouth, taking her deeper and deeper with each pass of his lips over hers.
He continued to kiss her until she went limp, pliant. He imagined this was as docile as Rebecca Bear got.
“Turn the…” She let out a long breath. “Turn the lights off?”
Her words were like a punch to the gut. Because, whatever her reasons were for turning the lights off, it reminded him of her scars. And it reminded him of the fact that when he saw her naked, he would be confronted with the full extent of her injuries. Injuries he had caused. He felt like he was a bastard complying, but he did anyway. Mostly because he wasn’t sure he wanted to confront all that right now. He wasn’t sure he ever did.
That made him an ass. Or, maybe he did it because he was an ass. Because it was easier to shroud them both in darkness and pretend there was nothing hard or impossible between them.
Her scars would spoil the illusion, not because they would turn him off. That wasn’t the problem. They would spoil the illusion that they were just a man and a woman looking for a way to pass the time. Looking for a way to blow off a little steam. Her scars carried all their history. Those years that they’d spent never talking to each other, never seeing each other and yet living with each other. Her every step weighted down by him, no matter that he had never spent a minute in her company.
He couldn’t bring that to this. Not now. He would never have been the one to ask that the lights go off, but since she had, he was willing to take that easy out.
Now all he could see was her silhouette, nothing in detail, and as much as he mourned not getting a chance to take a look at that beautiful body of hers, he welcomed what it would conceal.
He grabbed hold of the flowing hemline of her dress, tugging it up over her head and running his hands over her bare curves. Then he dispensed with her bra, pushing her panties down her thighs, and taking a step back.
He could see the silhouette of her figure, and those long legs—long in proportion in spite of her diminutive height—still partly covered by those high boots.
“Damn,” he said, his curse almost reverent, “you’re sexy.”
He saw her breasts pitch with her sharp intake of breath. “Really?”
He moved forward, grabbing hold of her arm and tugging her toward him, placing her palm right over his cock. “What does that feel like to you?”
“I… I… I guess…”
He chuckled, bringing her in even closer, pressing his lips to her ear. “I want you. I’m so hard for you I’m about ready to burst through the front of these jeans. I want to bury myself so deep inside you I won’t be able to feel anything else.”
She trembled in his arms. Honest to God trembled. She didn’t say anything in return, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He supposed he should be happy that she wasn’t talking, that she finally wasn’t fighting him. At least not now.
He separated from her for a moment, tugging his shirt up over his head, then moving to his belt, jeans, underwear and boots. Then, he pulled her back up against his body, letting out a sigh of relief when her skin was pressed against his. Every inch of her, against every inch of him.
He kissed her again, moving his hand between her thighs, finding her wet and needy for him. His breath hissed through his teeth and he drew his fingertips through her damp flesh, teasing the entrance of her body before drawing her moisture out to that sensitive bundle of nerves, moving his thumb in a circle until a short, shocked cry escaped her lips.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice like gravel, his dick so hard he thought it was going to break.
He wanted her so much. In spite of everything between them. Hell, maybe it was even because of everything between them. Maybe he was just that sick. Maybe he was just that destructive.
Maybe he was just his father. He’d run for a lot of years, and yet here he was. Back at the scene of the crime.
He gritted his teeth, pushing back at that thought.
“Tell me,” he coaxed, “I want to know exactly what you want me to do to you.”
“I don’t know,” she said, a shiver lacing her words. “I don’t know. I’ve never… I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Rebecca?” he asked, that one word a demand for clarification.
“I’m a virgin.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHE WASN’T SURE why she’d told him. Maybe because she knew there was no way she’d be able to hide it. Because she knew that there was no way she could possibly appear to be experienced when she was shaking inside and out. When she needed someone to take her hand and lead her through it, to show her exactly what was supposed to happen.
Or maybe, it was because she was still hoping he would back out. Because some part of her wanted to be completely, totally absolved of the decision. He would either turn back now, or move forward, but that admission had put the ball back in his court. She was a virgin, she was inexperienced and that meant all of this was his domain, and he had to know it.
The virgin could hardly be held responsible for her actions, right? She didn’t know if it was a big decision or not. If it was actually possible to have sex and not form a connection, if this was actually what she wanted, because she couldn’t really know the consequences of sex.
Yeah, basically, she had admitted it not because she was brave, but because she was scared. She hated that. She hated that she was that much of a trembling little coward. But she was a trembling, turned-on little coward, so she didn’t want to turn back… Exactly. But, she also wanted to wash her hands of the decision making yet further.
That was actually kind of und
erstandable. She was about to make love with the man who was supposed to be her mortal enemy. The monster in her closet, as she had told him before. And he was the man who wanted to make love to her even knowing that. She didn’t know which of them was more messed up.
Maybe they just both were. Maybe because of each other, or because of that one event that connected them. Maybe because of something else entirely.
She wasn’t really sure of anything right now. And she was very much uncertain about what the intense expression on his face meant. He was just standing there, his eyes glittering in the darkness, his large, muscular frame held taut and stiff in front of her.
She was grateful for the darkness, even as she wished that she could see him better, she was grateful he couldn’t see her. That as obscured as he was, she was equally hidden.
She’d had this dream before. Standing with a man in the dark. But she didn’t want to scream at him, not now. She wanted something else entirely.
Something a whole lot scarier than screaming.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked.
“Is there more than one application for that word?”
“Do you mean as an expression? Like, it’s been so long since you’ve been with somebody you might as well be?”
“No, I mean the literal application,” she said, shrinking back, wrapping her arms around her midsection.
“But you’ve… You have experience. Some experience,” he said, his tone intense.
She shook her head, then realized he might not be able to see the gesture. “No. Not really. I mean, I’ve kissed a couple of guys. But that’s it. It’s never gone very far. I’ve never seen a naked man before… No man has ever seen me naked before… Although, you aren’t really seeing me, because we turned the lights off.” She swallowed hard, aware that she needed to stop rambling like an idiot.
He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, still naked, she knew, even though she couldn’t make out the fine details of his body. She wished that he would do something. Wished that he would close the distance between them, or walk away. Of course, she was at his house, so she was probably the one who would have to walk away. But she wished that he would at least say something definitive.
