“Well, my mom died when I was four. I don’t even really have memories of her, just the pictures Dad has. So the gap is… different, I guess. Most of the time I don’t notice it. But there are times when it feels like it’s been blown wide open and all I can see is that missing piece.”
I turn onto the sidestreet that hems in her high-rise apartment and pull into a metered parking spot along the curb. She clears her throat and changes the subject.
“Dinner was wonderful.”
I let the heaviness drop. I put the car into park and then tuck a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to mine. Her lips are so damn soft. Every single time it’s a bit of a shock. Her scent explodes around us, breaking through whatever lotion she still has on. It’s pure instinct that has me adjusting my hold on her throat, moving until I’m palming her throat, my thumb and finger pressing just under her ears. Her perfume grows stronger, so damn intense I’m not sure much else exists in the world outside this little bubble.
Just as I’m debating recreating that first fantasy I had—her straddling me in this car while I fuck her—despite Ashton’s clear warning, she calms the kiss and pulls away. Her chest and cheeks are flushed a gorgeous dark red, her lips swollen and her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Her lipstick is smudged. The sight of it makes my dick twitch. I want to see it smudged all over my skin, too. Lemongrass joins her orchid, twining together. Her nostrils flair, a flash of renewed interest in her gaze.
Instead of kissing me, though, she whispers,“Thank you.”
“Do I get to take you out again then?” I ask.
She nods, smiling so damn bright. “You have a stretch of home games over Thanksgiving in another week or so, right?”
My body tightens at the thought of having her for so many days in a row. “Hell yeah, I do.”
She pulls away completely and grabs her purse. Before she can get out of the car, I’m busting my ass to get her door open, quickly killing the engine. No way am I letting her walk those thirty feet to her building’s entrance like I’m some rideshare driver. She laces her hand with mine as soon as she’s stepped onto the curb, grabbing my elbow and tucking her body close into mine. I keep my body relaxed, letting her scent mark me while also drawing tactile comfort from her Alpha. It’s so smooth an action, I can’t be sure she’s aware it’s something she’s even doing.
The walk to the side entrance of her high-rise isn’t all that far, the street lights keeping the sidewalk well lit. A few people walk by, but none bother to focus on either of us. It’s late enough most people have already gone home or are out at one of the hundred places to spend a Wednesday night in Nashville.
Without a word, she untucks herself from my side, putting a few inches of space between our bodies. Some of her quiet comfort is replaced with a nearly unnoticeable anxiety. She hesitates just outside the door, her teeth denting her bottom lip.
“You all right?” I ask, squeezing her hand.
Fuck, does she think I’m going to expect to fuck her after tonight? Because I don’t. Truly. No matter what my hard dick is craving or how insistent those desires to have her under me, my teeth cutting through her skin and binding her to me might be. Ashton was right in reminding me to make sure I’ll have time to care for her afterward the way she’ll need. And,fuck, I shouldn’t even be harboring a fantasy of bonding her, howeverfleeting. That’s absolutely way too permanent for something so new, scent match or not.
Her cheeks flush, the dark pink highlighted by the yellow light of the walkway lamps like it’s an artificial recreation of the sunset from earlier. God, she’s so fucking beautiful. It’s almost impossible to keep myself back, to keep from pressing her against the building and kissing her until her orchid scent is all I can smell and taste and feel again. But, somehow, I manage it, even as my own lemongrass forms a curtain around us. I force a hard swallow and run my thumb over the back of her hand.
She glances down at our entwined hands and then toward where my car is parked along the curb, the parking meter unpaid and forgotten.
“Do you want to come in?”
Her voice blends with the night, a soft croon, but there’s no missing the undercurrent to her question. The flush spreads down her neck and onto her chest, disappearing under the dress’s neckline. I want to follow that path with my tongue. My dick is instantly hard all over again, pushing against the zipper of my slacks in silent demand.
Fuck, this shouldn’t happen tonight. Not when I can’t just be with her all day tomorrow to take care of her afterward. Not when I’ll have to leave her bed before the sun has even risen to get to morning skate on time.
Carys ducks her head and pulls her hand out of my grip. As if my need to claim her, feel her come apart under my touch and my tongue and around my knot, isn’t enough, her worry about being too brazen cuts through me. No way can she end tonight thinking she’s put me off because she was bold enough to ask for what she wants.
Or imply it, at least.
“I-It’s okay, you can say no,” she whispers. “That was probably way too forward. I’m so?—”
Before she can continue on with that line of thinking, I grip her chin and pull her lips to mine, twisting us until her back hits the brick wall just beside the door.
Chapter Thirteen
CARYS
Rhett’s hands are immovable anchors in my hair as he presses me against the side of my building, his lips the most demanding I’ve experienced. The hard line of him presses into my belly, and I tremble at the weight and feel of him. My knees wobble as pleasure shoots through my limbs, a lightning bolt I’ve rarely felt even with my own vibrators. I need him over me, in me, and I need it now. I can’t help but whine, the sound so freaking desperate. He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to mine.
“I have early report,” he whispers. The words are equal parts remorseful and desperate.
I slowly open my eyes. His own eyes are so dark, his cheeks sharp. His heart pulses in his throat, beating nearly as fast as my own. I swallow back another whimper, but he seems to hear it anyway.
“Fuck,” he groans. Then he’s pulling away from me and lacing his hand with mine. He doesn’t even bother waiting for me to dig out my fob for the door. He simply presses my entire clutch to the reader. It only takes a moment for the light to flick green and the heavy lock to disengage with a loud click.
His attention is a white-hot brand as I manage to get us into the elevator and heading toward the right level. I halfway expect him to pounce once the doors close, but he only stands beside me, a wall of heat and intention that has my pussy clenching around nothing and my scent filling the small space. I press closer into him, practically rubbing against him like a needy cat.
