“You weren’t wrong,” he says gruffly.
Before he even finishes his short sentence, I’m shaking my head emphatically. “I was. So very wrong. You didnotdeserve that.”
Leaning forward, he places his elbows on the table. His thick fingers turn his glass in a circle absentmindedly as he drops his head. “I did. I was damaged. I was fucked up.” He huffs out a sardonic laugh. “I still am.” Keeping his head down, he turns to look at me. The vulnerability and pain in his eyes make my breath catch. “I’ve been going to therapy. I’ve been trying to be better.”
Tears leap to my eyes as what he said sinks in. When you look at Ian, you see someone who’s physically strong. Yousee someone who’s far too serious for his own good. And probably a little too gruff, most of the time. You don’t see someone who talks about his issues. Or works on himself. Guys like Ian don’t do that. They bury their heads in the sand and pretend everything’s fine.
But he did.
It breaks my heart even more that my lies made him do that. But I’m so proud of him for taking that step to improve himself, not for me, but for himself. It takes a strong man to do that.
And it’s such a fucking turn-on.
I just hope he still wants me like I want him. I make a decision that I hope I don’t regret later because, right at this moment, there’s only one option for what happens next.
Warmth coats my body as I lean into him. “Take me home.”
His face shatters as he misinterprets my words, and his sad nod is almost my undoing. “I was worried?—”
I don’t let him finish. “No, Ian. I want to go home. Together.” I give him a moment to understand what I’m saying. But knowing I hurt him, I want to give him an out in case that isn’t what he wants. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to stay the night with me.”
He blinks a few times as he catches up. His throat muscles work as everything clicks. Standing quickly, his stool is loud as it aggressively scoots across the floor. Grabbing his wallet, he pulls out much more than our bill is likely to be.
“Ian, that’s too much,” I say through a chuckle, feeling giddy from his obvious eagerness.
He pulls me out of my seat, my body pressing against his. “Don’t care. All I need is not to be on the most wanted list for dining and dashing.” With a kiss to my head, hestarts dragging me to the door. “Besides, we have a coupon for free appetizers. We can’t be banned.”
“Good point,” I agree, laughing as the hostess calls out to us to have a good night.
“We will, if I have anything to do with it,” Ian replies.
I smack his arm, even as my core clenches. “Ian!”
He shrugs but doesn’t stop our forward momentum. When we get to his Bronco, he spins me to face him so fast he has to catch me from toppling over. Gripping my shoulders, he studies my face, and I’m already short of breath at having him so close to me. “Tell me you’re sure.”
Without a second thought, my hands land on his cheeks, the evening scruff scratchy on my palms as I smile up at him. “I’m more than sure.”
A guttural growl leaves him as his arms wrap around me, and his lips crash into mine in a bruising kiss. We moan in unison, holding each other tighter as he licks and nibbles my lips until I’m a blubbering mess. If he suggested doing it in the backseat, I’d agree without any hesitation.
Pulling away, he rips the door open, lust bleeding from every pore. “Get in, Mags.”
I run my hand down his chest, trailing over his abs. When I get to the waistband of his jeans, he grunts. “Don’t tempt me right now, Mags. It’s been almost exactly a year since I fucked anyone, and you are pushing my limits.”
Shock and pleasure have my jaw dropping open. “You haven’t…”
His gaze rips into me as he shakes his head slowly. “How could I ever settle for anything less than the best I’ve ever had?”
A whimper is my only reply.
Ian steps closer to me, and his lips find my ear. “You need to get inside, or I’m fucking you out here in theparking lot. And I can’t afford to catch any charges. My attorney doesn’t practice criminal law anymore, and he gets really grouchy when we call.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but considering my life right now, getting arrested for having sex in the parking lot of a brewery would be a bad idea.
Scrambling inside, my body vibrates with lust as I watch him circle the front of the vehicle. He pulls open his door, adjusting himself before climbing inside.
“Whose place is closer?” I ask, desperation lacing my words.
“Mine.”
