“I dinna say nothing about talking.”
He swallows and nods. I turn and stomp to the back door of the diner. I unlock the door and leave it open as I turn the lights on in the kitchen. Stairs lead to the apartment upstairs, but I’m not ready for that. The diner feels safer. That’s not the right word, but my brain is a mess. So many things are happening at once. I shut it all down and pace the length of the kitchen as I wait for him to make up his mind. Again.
Several buttons on the floor and one on the table are all that remain from our earlier encounter. There should be cracks in the floor from the earth shifting. Blood and tears and sweat.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Garrett steps through the doorway, his bag over his shoulder, and one hand lingers on the door. The words I should say get stuck in my throat.
Are you sure? Because you don’t look sure.
Instead, I storm over and slam the door shut. He drops his bag—maybe to defend himself—and I crowd into his space and back him into the door. I put my hand on his chest. His heart is racing.
“You don’t get to do this, Garrett. Second-guess everything. Change your mind?—”
“Really?” His eyes crinkle in amusement, replacing the worry, at least for now. “I can’t change my mind? How caveman of you.”
I grab his hands and stretch them over his head, pushing my body against his, and shifting until our cocks slide together. Even through our clothes, it feels intense. Pleasure rushes through me, and I close my eyes. Garrett’s moan brings me back.The ability to breathe and talk at the same time stumps me for a second. I grind against him again, with purpose.
“Do you want to change your mind?” I ask in a low voice.
“No…”
I lean in and nuzzle his neck, my body pressed against his, not moving just…experiencing him. The musky scent under his arms, the sweat from the July heat still warm even this late in the evening, the hard parts of his body—muscles, hip, cock—the soft whoosh of breath against my neck. The taste as I lick the salt on his skin. The sounds of his ragged breathing?—
“Aidyn—”
“Shhh. I’ve got you, darlin’.” I kiss his jaw. His cheek. The delectable spot between his chin and bottom lip.
“Please, Aidyn.”
I lick the freckle on his neck and his head drops back. “Have we moved to begging, now?”
“Whatever it takes to get you to fucking move.”
I chuckle. “Cheeky.”
This is dangerous. I’m trying to memorize every part of him for when he leaves. And fuck, I can’t think about that, or I might break down like a damn baby.
The heat overwhelms me. The air conditioning isn’t working, or maybe it’s the furnace I’m pressed against. I brush my mouth over Garrett’s, tasting him, and pull back. He chases me with his lips. I do it again. And again. Stoking the flames.
With a growl that grabs me by the balls, Garrett flips us around and slams my back against the door. His lips crush mine, burning all my thoughts into ash.
He punishes me with harsh, bruising kisses. Devouring me. Taking what he wants. His tongue is hot and searching. I’m more than willing to give it to him. Garrett sucks a spot under my ear, and oh God, it’s so fucking good. His stubble catches on mine, and like kindling to fire, it ignites every inch of my body. Whatwould that stubble feel like scraping against my inner thigh? A memory flashes of Garrett on his knees, his mouth eager and hot as he tries to take me in.
I’m barely holding on. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the images are still there. “Garrett…” Do I sound as wrecked as I feel?
“Your turn, Aidyn.” His voice dips lower. Smokey. Full. And like that first shot of whiskey, it takes my breath away. “Beg me.”
This is payback. And I deserve it. “Please…”
“Sweetheart…” His hand on my chest holds me in place as he slips his fingers under my dress shirt and teases my skin. “You can do better than that.”
I swallow, trying to get my brain and mouth to work. “Please touch me…or God, do something, you fucking asshole.”
His laugh is layered with so much: relief, want, something more that I can’t think about right now. But it breaks my mood apart until my fears lie like pebbles between us. Easier to push aside.
“What do you want, Aidyn?” he asks as his fingers dip below my waistband.
