Page 104 of The Worst Guy Ever
“That’s what we were always best at, wasn’t it?” She pulls away a little, tilting her face up to mine. There’s a flicker of sadness in her eyes, as if she misses those arguments as much as I do. She was so full of life, and that smart mouth and snarky attitude made me feel alive, too. I used to think we brought out the worst in each other, but I see now it was the best, both in and out of the bedroom. Without her, I’m half the man I was.
Her halo has slipped a little and I reach up to adjust it, my fingers coasting through her hair as I tuck it back behind her ears. Her eyes flutter closed at my touch, but I can’t take my hands off her. She’s so perfect, I can’t believe she’s spent so long convincing herself otherwise.
Her teeth sink into her lip and my thumb is there before I know it, tugging it open. She moans softly, body pressing closer into mine all by itself. I’m reminded of a time I had her like this before; soft and gentle, exhausted in the quiet of the night, but still hungry to explore. I won’t take advantage of her, of this moment, this ember that’s flickering back to life, even though I’m aching to be with her again.
She’s so soft, this pillowy lip yielding under my tender touch. I see now that I’ve loved this lip since the moment I first saw it, pouting away at Luke’s dining table all those months ago.
“I think we were pretty good at some other things too,” I whisper, and when she opens her eyes, they’re full of the same need that’s blazing in mine.
I need her.
In my arms, in my bed, in my heart. I can’t let tonight end with us going our separate ways.
“Can I take you home, angel?”
“I’m seeing someone,” she whispers, and my heart sinks, taking my stomach with it.How the fuck has that happened? When? Who?“A therapist.”
Hattie has the nerve to smirk, and I wonder how long she’s been waiting to get me back for my slip-up.
Fucking hell, this woman.
“Are you really?” I can’t take my eyes off her, so beautiful, so bold, so fucking special. It makes me wonder why I haven’t been fighting for her this entire time.
“Yup.” She nods, pulls off her halo, then lifts my hat and puts it on her own head. “Take me home, Cowboy.”
Chapter 46
Hattie
He’squietonthedrive home, and I stare out of the window and press my knees together to stop them trembling. Half of me wonders what the fuck I’m playing at. The other half knew I’d find myself here the second I saw him across the bar earlier, smiling at me in full cowboy costume.
Outside his house, he opens my door, helps me out of the car and doesn’t let go. I know subtle hand touches are one of the hottest things a romance hero can do, but it still amazes me how so much can pass between such a small area of skin. Heat, tension, and longing, zipping back and forth where his fingers link with mine. Besides a couple of handsy customers at Moonshine, quickly booted out by our excellent security team, nobody has touched me since the last time I was here.
Smiling down at me, Rob helps me out of my coat, and when his hands come to rest on my shoulders, mine sweep along the length of his forearms. This is a different side of Rob, softer, open. He’s not pushing for anything, and I know what I want, but I’m in no hurry to get there. If there’s anything these past months have taught me, it’s that it’s OK to take my time, to slow down and see what happens rather than rattle through life at 100 miles per hour.
He’ll never make the first move though, and who can blame him after the hurricane of shit I’ve thrown his way this year. A shiver of nerves rolls through me, but I let it pass rather than push them down. Of course I’m nervous. I’m giving this man the power to wreck me, but I’m not as afraid as I used to be. The pain of living without him is so much worse than I ever imagined.
I’ve lost track of time. We could stand here all night, and I’m sure he’d say thank you, but my nerves are rapidly turning to need. My fingertips catch hold of the pulse in his wrist, fluttering away, calling my name. I find the same beat as I smooth my hands across his bare chest, far warmer than I expected it to be. Shirtless in October was a bold choice, but I’m not exactly wrapped up warm in this tiny dress, and the only thing I feel is heat.
I’ve missed his body so much, the tight expanse of his stomach, those well-defined muscles that demand to be explored. They’ll have to wait, my hands are on a mission of their own. Coasting down, I palm his erection through his jeans, though the leather chaps do a pretty good job of framing it like a gift.
“Is this for me?” I whisper, and he lets out a tight hiss.
“My hat’s on your head, isn’t it?”
“You remember what I said at book club?”
“I remember everything.”
I take his hand and lead him upstairs. His room smells like him, and my body sways as memories of our nights here flood my brain. Rob stands behind me, his chin on my shoulder, and there in the darkness, I turn and drop to my knees.
“Hattie,” he moans, “you don’t have to.”
Up close, I can make out the bucking bull engraved on his big brass buckle. I want to laugh and ask where he got it, but that can wait too. I tug his belt free, buttons next. “Please? I want to. I need to.”
He steps out of his jeans and his boxers, and I take him in my hand, so thick and solid and manly. My tongue laps at the tip, and from my spot at his feet, I watch his body respond. His is a body that deserves to be worshipped, and I’m determined to show him, properly, without rebelling against it, just how much I want him.
I take my time exploring the length of him, dragging long, wet licks from the base to the crown. My mouth closes around the head, tongue circling the sensitive spot underneath that makes him groan in response.
