Page 45 of A Shot in the Dark
Ours was just a one-night stand that rocketed out of control, a bit of temporary insanity, and now? I need to let him go back to his world so I can return to mine—both of us changed, hopefully both for the better.
“Tell me again that you need me,” he murmurs, breath skimming lightly along the back of my neck. There’s a rustle behind me, the sound of a zipper descending, and my eyes flutter closed.
Boots’ fingers reach under the edge of my skirt, lifting the hem above my hips, his fingers coasting along my skin so lightly that I shiver. He rests his hot cock against my ass as he tugs my top off and sets it on the roof of the Town Car. Ahead of me the sun continues its descent, colors bleeding into the sky in an array of pink and orange as Boots undoes my bra and lifts it off of me. My breasts press against the cool glass of the passenger’s side window as he nuzzles my neck, nipping, teasing. Growling in that way that makes my panties wet.
“I’ll mess up your pristine car,” I protest. “You hate your car getting dirty…”
He groans. “We’re past that point. Fuck the car,” he murmurs. “Tell me you need me, princess. I’ll drop everything. Ignore every deadline, burn every bridge, shred each affiliation…”
My heart…
The thing tying us together, that leash that’s gradually been loosening thread-by-thread and day-by-day, tightens once more, to hold us firm. But if I work at it hard enough, I know I can get the edges to fray. I can set Boots free of his obligation to me.
Tell me you need me…
Not“tell me youloveme,” though I think need and love are the same to Boots.
A sigh shudders out of me as Boots shifts my panties down and nudges my feet wider apart. No reminder of safe words, or ground rules—though Boots still follows the rules with a meticulous attention to detail. No dirty talk singes my ears, only Boots’ raw desire spiking my own, as his powerful arms bracketing me on the car, fingers twitching. “I’ll make it work, princess,” he groans, slowly easing into me, inch by tenuous inch, filling me with his still-swelling cock.
I press back against him greedily, stealing a bit of his control.
“I’ll figure out a way…” I feel his lips on my neck—his lips—kiss the faint traces of his mark, whispering sweet things against my healing flesh. He rolls his hips against mine, slowly, decadently, like we have all the time in the world.
Like this sunset—this moment—is made for us alone.
This isn’t Boots simply fucking me—even if he doesn’t know it fully himself.
This is Boots making love to me, with all the gentlemanly care and knightly honor he can muster at the moment.
It’s terrifying.
Red flags flap wildly.
What Boots is feeling is anything but temporary.
“We may have to—” he shifts his angle and my breath hitches “—God.” His fingers curl on the glinting black roof. “You take me so perfectly…” A momentary giddiness returns to me, the flurry of butterflies in my stomach, coupled with the warmth pooling low in my stomach. “May have to… go on the run for a while, but…” He groans in pleasure, delving deeper. His hands cover mine, his breath hot on my shoulders, the back of my neck and head—a desert wind sweeping my hair away and baring my skin. “I’ll call in whatever favors I have.”
This is Boots killing me.
With fucking kindness.
Pulling out of me just long enough to turn me around to face him, he slides an arm along my hip, hitching my leg up as he finds the spot that never fails to send a shudder up my spine. My back arches, breasts thrust against him.
I don’t want to give in to him, but I do, too. “I want to see your eyes,” I beg, and—without argument—he takes off his glasses, those stunning silver eyes cutting into me, all starlight and tossing seas.
Sunset be damned. Boots’ eyes are a light show I could watch forever.
Except that I can’t.
“I will burn the fucking world to keep you safe,” he swears. “Tell me you need me and I’m your man…”
Then he claims my mouth, his lips both hard and soft at once, full of need and…
That single, perfect kiss wounds me more deeply than anything he could have ever done to me. As much as he thinks that he wants me, that this bond is unbreakable, I know better. How can he understand me enough to want me, when I don’t even understand myself?
How can he know me when I can’t know even the simplest things about him?
He deserves better.
