Page 28 of Captivating Mr. Second Chance

With what looked like watery eyes, Laney pulled her gaze up to Ethan, and he never thought of himself as a violent guy, but he wanted to hurt everyone who’d ever hurt her. This George person or that dickbag Bobby Magnate or anyone else who would dare make Delaney Hargrove cry.

“I feel like I’m broken,” she murmured. “Like something is broken inside me, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Hey, no,” he muttered, gently pulling her to the couch, next to him. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, his lips brushing against her ear when he whispered, “You are not broken.”

“I can’t even act normal on a date,” she said, falling against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because maybe it was. “I was so uncomfortable.”

“That’s the problem.”

“What’s the problem?” she asked, shifting slightly to look at him.

“You were uncomfortable. You babble when you’re uncomfortable.” He stroked circles on the nape of her neck, eliciting goose bumps along her soft skin, and he wanted to kiss her there. But, more than that, he needed for her to hear him.

“I do not,” she argued weakly, her pouty lips tipping into an infinitesimal smile. It was one of his favorite things about her, the nervous babbling because it didn’t happen very often. But nervous Laney was a delightful mess.

He skimmed his hand down her arm. “This date of yours should have recognized that about you. He should have tried to make you more comfortable.” She opened her mouth like she might defend him, and he stopped her with a stare down his nose. “Did he kiss you?”

She blinked twice slowly as if she didn’t comprehend him.

“Did he kiss you?” he repeated, leaning in close to make sure she could grasp the seriousness of the question, and her eyes blazed with something he hadn’t seen from her in a long time.

Desire.

She nodded, her cheeks flushing, and he dragged his index finger along her jaw. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“No.” She swallowed, and he wanted to kiss her throat too. He would. Eventually. After he got through to her. “I just don’t understand why you care so much,” she said, all haughty-like.

He readjusted his glasses then stood up. He’d make this real plain. “I told you, Laney, now that I have you, I’m not going to let you go this time.”

That made her spine stiffen, her words sharp. “You don’t have me, Ethan. You never had me.”

She didn’t fight him when he took both of her hands in his and towed her up to stand in front of him. With fire in her eyes, she clearly wanted this challenge. To be chased. Or simply given proof that she was worth it.

No question. She was worth everything.

“Is that really how you feel?” he asked, and she let out an irritated snort, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp. He only hauled her to him, her back to his chest, with one hand around her waist, the other spanning across her collarbone. “I’ve never forgotten about you. All these years, you were always in the back of my mind.”

For a moment, she dropped her head back to his shoulder, and he nuzzled her neck. “I know your heart.” He drifted his palm lower, to where her dress opened in a V, revealing the most perfect cleavage he’d ever seen. Underneath his fingers, her heart beat wildly. Like his. “You can’t pretend that you don’t feel something for me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She suddenly pushed off him and turned away, crossing her arms.

“It does,” he said a little peevishly, before he stopped and took a breath to measure his next words. “If you don’t feel something for me, then tell me what you do feel. Did you like kissing that guy tonight?”

She tipped a stubborn chin up, avoiding his gaze and the question. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

“You didn’t mind talking about it with me a few minutes ago.” He held on to her arms, his fingers circling her biceps, trying again. “Did you like kissing him?”

“I don’t know.” Her bland tone gave her away.

He stepped close enough that the skirt of her dress brushed along his jeans. “How can you not know if you like kissing someone or not?” She didn’t answer, so he traced her lips with his index finger. “I remember you used to wear that ChapStick. It was a skinny tube, berry-flavored.”

Her mouth opened, her breath coming out in little puffs against his fingers.

“Do you still use it?” he asked, and at her nod, he had to control the urge to throw her down on the couch. “Do you have it on now?”

She licked her lips, her pink tongue teasing him before her question came out, low and raspy. “How ’bout you find out?”

Ethan didn’t waste another moment. He curved his hands around her cheeks and jaw and devoured her, sucking on her top then bottom lip, following the same path her tongue made with his own. She moaned, and he swallowed that too, wanting—needing—to inhale every part of her. Every sound and breath.

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