Taking her time, pushing him for more, she faced him. “Why?”
“Because I said so,” he told her in a low, silky murmur. “Because I want you to.”
He hesitated, his mouth thinning. She waited and was reminded of what he’d said moments ago.
Every time I take a step forward, something, a memory or a doubt, yanks me back.
She understood that better than most. Every time she thought she was healing from her childhood, every time she believed she was making strides in being able to trust others, her doubts and fears would resurface and threaten to wipe away all the progress she’d made.
But she wouldn’t let that happen. Not with Miles.
“Are those the only reasons?”
He gave his head a quick, jerky shake. “I don’t like when you walk away from me.”
His words, this truth, were quiet. A whispered confession, one that brought up the past, brought up his pain.
And his anger.
Just like she’d wanted.
“It reminds me of how you walked away from me before,” he continued. “How I let you. And I can’t… I can’t have that happen again.”
Her breath caught at the bleak note in his tone. The grief in his eyes.
Oh, Miles.
How could this man with his growls and commands and dirty talk also say things that went straight to the heart of her?
Seemed they were both going to feel their feelings tonight.
“I’m here,” she murmured. “I’m right here. Tonight, I’m yours.”
To prove it, she held his gaze and walked backward slowly until she bumped into her bed. “How do you want me?”
He drew in a sharp breath. “On your back with your feet on the floor. Like you were before.”
She sat on the edge of the mattress, then laid back. Waited while he walked toward her, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
Stopping inches from her legs, he stood over her and scanned her slowly from head to toe. Everywhere his glittering gaze skimmed across, each place it lingered on, her body reacted like it was a physical touch.
Her head arched back, exposing her throat. Her nipples peaked. Her lower belly quivered. Her hips lifted. And when his gaze settled, hot and heavy and insistent, between her legs, she opened her thighs, spreading for him.
He’d been right. She liked it when he pulled her strings.
And he didn’t need to touch her or say a word to do it.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, stroking himself absently, as if unaware he was even doing so. “The first time I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I wanted you from that first moment. More than anything I’d ever wanted before in my life. I wanted to fuck you. I wanted to love you. I wanted to fix you.” Meeting her eyes, his mouth twisted to the side. “But mostly, I wanted you to be my salvation.”
She fisted her hands into the quilt beneath her so she didn’t reach for him. Bit her lower lip so she didn’t say something she shouldn’t.
She couldn’t tell him that was what she was trying to do now. Save some small part of him.
If only so he’d then be able to save the rest himself.
“Instead,” he continued, “you ruined me. I loved you and you ruined me by never, not once telling me how you felt about me. I loved you and you ruined me by leaving me without a word. I loved you and you ruined me by coming back here without so much as a goddamn apology for doing it. You ruined me and I still can’t stay away. I don’t want to stay away.”
He stepped between her legs, forcing them apart more. Widened his stance so that his thighs pressed against hers. The back of his hand brushing against the top of her pussy with each of his lazy strokes.