“Don’t care.” I stare him down and arch an eyebrow at him that says he either parks behind my workshop or we don’t do this at all.
“Fucking pain in my ass,” he mumbles, just loud enough for me to hear as he throws his truck in reverse.
“We can just not do this,” I offer. I don’t need his shit. If he wants to be pissy about something this stupid, he can leave.
He doesn’t give me any inflection of what choice he’s making, so I watch him pull out of my driveway before taking the little side road that leads to the barn. My shoulders sag in relief. I would have accepted it if he left, but I’m glad he didn’t.
Not that I’ll ever say that out loud.
It’ll take him a minute to walk back up here, so I take that time to dig deep into my hatred for him. I’ll need it if I’ll ever be able to keep this to sex, as much as I hate myself for admitting that, even internally. It’s not that I think I’ll cave and just go back to the way things were. I know for a damn fact that’ll never happen, but not knowing exactly how my mind will react to being with him again freaks me out a little. I don’t want there to be any shred of hope for anything past orgasms.
Because I’ll never let him have anything more, ever again.
My wits successfully gathered, I climb out of my truck and head to my front door. By the time I’ve got it opened and my boots taken off, Arlo is standing just outside of the door.
I don’t say a word, not feeling awkward exactly, just wondering why he’s hesitating, but I do wave him in as I stand up.
Apparently, that was the password because he doesn’t walk in. He aggressively strides to me, sliding his hand into my hair before devouring my lips with his.
Fuck yes. No pussyfooting around, just straight to what I need.
The hand in my hair grips a little tighter, moving my head where he wants it as he rips his lips from mine and trails nips and licks down my neck. A whimper escapes me as the touch of pain from my scalp mixes with the pure pleasure of his mouth on me.
A growl reaches my ears, and I almost lose my footing. Melting into him more, I try to direct him where I want him, but he doesn’t relent. Holding my head in place, he continues his mission down my neck and onto my collarbone. He tries to pull down my T-shirt but realizes that won’t work, so he pulls away from me, letting go of my hair in the process. I whimper at the loss but immediately feel his hands on my side, dragging up my shirt with less than steady hands.
My hands take on a mind of their own, moving to his belt and undoing it before I lift my arms to help him with my shirt. He moves to my jeans, flicking the button open as I stumble with his. In a blur of movement, we both end up completely naked just inside of my front door.
Arlo steps back, and I watch his eyes leisurely trail down my body. In the fifteen years since he’s seen me naked, I’ve gained a lot of muscle. It’s a testament to how physical my job is, but I’m also damn proud of the fact that I can hold my own with most men. And judging by the lustin his eyes, he approves of my bulkier thighs and sculpted arms that lift solid wood furniture on the daily. Then, there are the tattoos that form a sleeve on my right arm and a half sleeve on my left. Multiple others dot my skin randomly. Colorful images that were definitely not there the last time he saw me naked paint a picture on my skin.
While he checks me out, I do the same to him. The years seem to have been even better to him. The height he grew into while he was in the Marines now fits nicely with all the muscle he built onto it. What catches my eye, though, is a scar on his hip. It’s just to the left of his impressive dick, distracting me from what we’re supposed to be doing.
He must see where I’m looking because, in a flash, he’s right up against me, pushing me against the door and ducking his head to take my nipple in his mouth.
It isn’t lost on me that we’ve yet to say a word to each other or that he chose to distract me when I found the prominent scar.
Chapter 4
Arlo
She saw one of my scars, and I panicked. For the first time since I was discharged from the Marines, I forgot about them. Until her eye pulled to my hip.
I don’t even know how to explain everything that happened to earn those scars, or if she even cares to hear it.
What I do know is that she’s grown into the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I can’t wait to fuck her senseless again. I’ll deal with the fallout after. Right now, I’m going to enjoy the hell out of it. Pretend I’m not half robotic, and not think about my limitations.
Pushing into her space and taking her delectable nipple into my mouth is both a distraction and a need. The taste of her skin makes me feral, and I don’t know where I want to explore next. The muscle she’s built while building her business shows, and it turns me on more than I ever thought it would. Back when we were kids, she was always tall and lanky; I’m not quite used to her above average height.
Now? She’s grown to that height and is no longer willowy; she’s strong and confident in her body. She’s so goddamn gorgeous I can barely control myself.
And those tattoos… I’ve seen them before, obviously, but seeing all the ones she keeps hidden, tucked into sensual spaces, has my head spinning.
My hands slide down her side, gripping her ass in one hand as the other pulls her leg up over my hip. Drawing my nose up her neck, her familiar scent hits me hard. It takes me instantly to when we snuck around behind our parents’ backs—hell, behind the whole town’s back—to be together.
God, I’ve missed her.
I know I shouldn’t be thinking this way, but I can’t help it. She’s always been home for me, no matter what the years apart have done to us.
What I have done to us?
