Page 146 of Tell Me Something True

It was the same thing he’d done to her that night at his house. To have it turned on him this way should have him tucking his aching dick back into his pants and storming out.

He should be pissed, but he wasn’t.

He was proud. So fucking proud of the strong, stubborn woman she’d become. So glad she was confident enough to demand the things she deserved, that everyone deserved. Respect. Trust. Honesty.

But he hated the suspicion that the reason she’d come into her own was because she’d walked out on him.

“No holding back,” he promised. “I’m trusting you to stop me any time you want to stop. To walk away any time you want to walk away.”

He had the satisfaction of hearing her breath catch. Of seeing her hungry gaze flick down to his cock before lifting back to his eyes.

“No holding back,” she repeated. Her own promise to him that his trust wasn’t misplaced.

An acknowledgement that even though he was towering over her, bigger and stronger than her, she held all the power.

She’d always held so much power over him.

He just hadn’t been ready to accept that, to surrender to it, to her, until now.

And he couldn’t help but think that was what she wanted most of all.

“You were right,” he admitted, still stroking his cock with one hand. “I have wanted this. You on your knees.”

He reached for her head with his free hand. Combed his fingers through the silky strands of her hair, the movement releasing the floral scent of her shampoo. He raked his fingers from her temple to the nape of her neck, his nails scratching along her scalp. Cupping the back of her skull, he slowly drew her toward him, forcing her upright, off her heels.

He smoothed his fingers down to the ends of her hair, then wrapped the strands around his fist, again and again, each turn of his hand forcing her head back until her neck was arched. The pulse point beneath her jaw beat hard and fast, like butterfly wings. Her chest rose and fell quickly. The hard points of her nipples were visible through her thin shirt. Her throat and cheeks were flushed pink with arousal.

“Look at you,” he breathed, gaze skimming over her parted lips. Her darkened gaze. “I’m not the only one who wants this, am I?”

She dropped her eyes. Pressed her lips together.

Pushing him, testing him even more.

He nudged her face up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Am I the only one who wants this?”

Her hands went to the front of his legs—not to push him away, but to hold on. “No,” she admitted, voice husky, fingers curling into his thighs, as if trying to keep him connected to her as much as his hand in her hair kept him tethered to her. “You’re not the only one.”

He hummed in satisfaction but kept that tight grip on her hair because he wanted to. Because she was letting him.

But mostly because she liked it.

He tightened his grip on her hair, tugging her head back farther. Her fingers flexed on his thighs. Her breath shuddered out.

The long, pale line of her neck was a temptation he couldn’t resist, and he edged forward, sliding the length of his dick up that warm, soft skin. Felt her swallow against it as he stroked it along her throat. Slid his dick along the space where her shoulder and neck met.

“Walsh said you come here almost every night. That you come alone, but you’re not often left alone. That there’s always men who join you, hoping to claim your attention or earn one of your smiles. Hoping to take you home. So, I’m going to mark you,” he continued, almost conversationally, as if he were filling her in on the latest weather report or baseball trade rumors, instead of indulging in one of his more animalistic desires. “Right here” –he rubbed the pad of his thumb behind her ear. “Because I want to. And because you’re going to let me.”

He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until she slowly tilted her head to the side, granting him better access to do what he wanted.

Giving him permission for what she wanted, too.

Exhaling roughly, he rubbed the tip of his cock against that spot behind her ear. Dragged it to her hairline, then back again, leaving a wet, sticky trail of precum.

She shivered, her nipples pebbling more.

“I like the idea of you walking through the bar with a part of me on your skin,” he murmured, narrowed eyes taking in the glossy trail on her skin. “I like knowing that no matter what other guy comes up to you, how much he charms you or what he says to make you laugh, that you choose to stay in this closet with me. That tonight, you chose me.”

“I like that, too,” she admitted softly as he continued rubbing the sensitive head of his dick against the slick, wet mess he was making on her skin. “Miles…” She stopped. Licked her lips. “I’ve only chosen you.”

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