Page 111 of Trusting You
He sits up, the sheets falling from his chest and pooling on his thighs. Exposing him in a way that makes me want to stay in this spot forever. “I think there’s been a massive miscommunication here.”
“Don’t you get it? There isn’t. I’m being totally open with you. We don’t have to make this more than what it is.”
Locke cocks his head. “What if I want it to be? More?”
His words stun me, but I cover it with a scoff. “You don’t mean that. I know you. I know what you’re like with women—”
“I haven’t had one chick near me since you came around.”
“That I’m aware of,” I blurt out.
My statement seems to hurt him. Or at least cause enough blowback to make him jerk in surprise. “Carter, I haven’t slept with anyone. Dated or spoken to anyone, either.”
I find invisible lint on the sheets. “You don’t have to sugarcoat anything for me.”
“I’m not.” Locke shifts closer and crooks a finger under my chin. “You are giving me every chance to let you go, and I’m not taking it. What does that prove to you?”
“That I live here and you can’t do what you usually do, so you’re improvising.”
“Oh, honey.” He searches my eyes.
“And I hope to be a part of Lily’s life for as long as I live. And if I’ve screwed that up, if last night makes it more difficult for you to—”
“If that’s honestly what you think, I’m more of an asshole than I took credit for. And clearly, I have a lot of work to do.”
“Just…” I shake my head, avoid his eye. “I’m gone in two weeks. We can’t make this more than what it is.”
I feel him breathing, and he strokes down my arm before letting go. “I’ll make this whatever you want it to be. You’re in charge.”
I dare a look at him.
“I mean it. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. Then, his gaze takes on new meaning. “If you want to fuck me right now, I’ll let you. If you want to go and make breakfast, go right ahead. If you want to leave in two weeks, I’ll take you to the airport.”
If I want to leave. As if it were a choice. It’s my turn to search his expression.
Locke’s giving me the lead, and I shake with the implications. I wonder about satisfying immediate cravings versus dealing with long-term repercussions. I listen for Lily’s cries, hear nothing, and am utterly conscious of the naked Adonis mere inches away, with only a sheet separating us. I’m also thinking of the baby, of what the hell I’m doing with her father, and how it’s not only my life I’m changing the trajectory of.
But I’m tired, very tired, of always doing the right thing.
I should be smart and back off. I need logic instead of lust. This will only hurt me, tasting him one more time, being so close to him I can count his breaths and know the instant I’m making him come.
But I came here so wounded. What are a few more fissures on an already cracked and broken heart?
I drop the sheet, and his eyes go black with promise.
Forgive me, Paige.
We both rise to our knees at the same time and our mouths crash.
His hands slide down my back and cup my ass, squeezing me closer, sinking me into his skin, my body pliable clay to his deft finger-strokes.
My head falls back as his tongue trails down, swirling against my clavicle, drawing sinful circles on my nipples, sucking, biting, and I’m wet with desire. If I’m to be honest, I was wet long before his tongue hit my body.
Locke tips me back to lie on the bed, but I stop him, my soft smile the only communication I need to tell him this is my show, my rules.
I palm both his shoulders and push him down until I’m straddling him, all of me exposed in the natural sunrise, but I’m not thinking about that, about how I look to a man in high-definition because Locke’s expression says it all: he wants me.
And boy, do I love being wanted by this man.