Page 26 of Let Me Love You
Pulling his Jeep up to his parents’ house, grave frustration knotted his gut when he noticed her car wasn’t in the driveway. He blew out a harsh breath and ran his fingers through his hair. She was going to drive him out of his mind.
He climbed out of the Jeep and wandered over to her yard. Quiet. Too quiet. He peered in the little window at the top of the garage door and a wave of relief washed over him. Her BMW sat inside the garage.
Thank God!
He leaped up the steps of the porch and lifted the frog statue to find the spare house key. She kept it in the same hiding place even after all these years. Despite the advantage at the moment, he’d talk to her about changing that up. In the past, she had a man in the house to protect her. Hopefully, he’d fill that position in due time, but until then he didn’t want anyone else having easy access.
He slid the key in the door and twisted the knob. The door creaked open and he stepped in, slipping the key into his pocket and closing the door behind him. He didn’t know her location in the house. Perhaps she was sleeping or in the shower. Voices murmured from the television in the family room. He tiptoed a few steps in that direction wanting to surprise her.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ren!”
His heart stopped from the startling effect of her shriek. Stacey stood in the doorway to the den on his right, clutching a hair brush. Her eyes stretched wide with a mix of terror and surprise.
“You’re lucky I didn’t club you to death just now.”
He bit his lower lip to prevent the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. Releasing it would only fuel her anger and though she was beautiful when angry, that wasn’t the emotion he had hoped to inspire. However, he had difficulty taking her seriously with a hair brush as a weapon.
“You were going to club me to death with that?” He pointed to the brush, attempting to disguise the humor in his voice, but the narrowing of her eyes proved he hadn’t been successful.
“You think that’s funny, do you? You don’t think I can hurt you with this?” She waved the hair brush in the air. “Do you want to test it out?” She stepped out of the darkened den and into the hallway lit by the glint of the moon. Air halted in his lungs, stopping his ability to breathe.
Her chestnut hair fell in disheveled waves over her shoulders. The fear that clouded her eyes seconds ago also shined with determination. She worried her plump bottom lip with her teeth, causing blood to rush to his groin as he imagined chewing on that same lip. Her red t-shirt clung to her pert breasts, accentuating her lack of a bra with her nipples poking at the fabric. The shirt fell to her hips, where black boy shorts wrapped around her like a second skin, further showing off her tone thighs and calves.
“You’re beautiful.” The words burst from his mouth without much thought. His blood traveled south and left him with a basic vocabulary. Quite possibly his next words would be, “You’re mine.”
“Don’t try to distract me with compliments.” Her mouth pulled in a straight line and her brows drew down. Adorable. Feisty. He wanted her.
“I don’t know, Stace,” he teased, playing the little game. Hoping it would end exactly the way he’d like it to—them naked and tangled up with each other. “I’m a pretty decent-sized guy, not that I’m bragging or anything.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes.
“I’m not sure you could bludgeon me with a hair brush. Perhaps we can go over some self-defense strategies later, like next time grab a knife, a pan, or a baseball bat. That might actually scare an intruder.”
“You’re an arrogant son of a gun.”
She strutted toward him, purpose glowing in her eyes. She gripped the brush like a serial killer might grip a knife. Ren couldn’t tell if she came toward him with the intent of hitting him or getting in his face. Either way, he intercepted, grabbing and bringing her wrist behind her back. He pressed forward, pushing her back against the wall. She grunted and struggled.
“What are you going to do now?” he whispered in her ear. She shivered against him. Encircling her other wrist with his free hand, he pinned it down by her side. He lined up with her, his pelvis against her belly, and moaned at her softness. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”
“This is the second time you’ve snuck up on me and scared the life out of me. Is this going to become a habit?” Raw emotion scattered across her face and it hit him. He’d really frightened her.
“I promise not to make it a habit.” He released one wrist and skimmed his fingers across her smooth cheek. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Did you ever hear of knocking?” Her breath skittered across his skin causing goose bumps to rise. She affected him inside and out.
“I wanted to surprise you.” He leaned in closer, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling her fresh orange blossom scent.
“Mission accomplished.”
“I had to see you.” He rested his forehead against hers. Their gazes locked. “I had to touch you, kiss you.” He pressed a soft kiss to her nose. “Prove to myself that Saturday wasn’t a dream. The last two days have been torture.”
“A little melodramatic for a macho guy like yourself, no?”
He wanted to show her macho. Rip her bottoms off and fuck her hard against the wall. Show her how much he missed her. Needed her. But he got lost in her Caribbean ocean blue eyes, and a gentleness, or the closest thing to gentle he could feel when he was wrapped so tightly in lust, settled over him.
He brushed his lips softly over hers. The feathery touch sent a chill down his spine, but a heat swam low in his groin. She had this effect on him, tying him in knots of contradiction. She whimpered and dropped the brush on the floor with a clatter. He relaxed his grip on her wrist, but kept the kiss intense.
Pressing his lips into hers, he flicking his tongue over her seam. She tasted like cinnamon with a hint of red wine, a flavor that had him wanting more.Delicious.When her lips parted with a sigh, he dipped his tongue into her mouth. She closed around him and sucked. His erection pulsed and pressed against his pants. Visions of her using that mouth on other parts flooded his brain.
