I have to believe I’m not so breakable anymore.
I’m almost home when I hear an engine behind me. It’s a dirty white pick-up truck with the windows down and some country song blasting. I move further off the side of the road to let them past, but instead, the truck slows as it approaches.
“Where did you get that thing, 1952?” The driver leans out the window and gives me a whistle.
I feel a shiver roll down my spine at the sound of his sexy drawl. I shouldn’t know his voice so well already, but I do.
Ryland.
“What happened to the Camaro?” I reply, pushing my bike at a steady pace. He idles alongside me, barely breaking five miles an hour. The pick-up truck has faded lettering on the side, and the back is stacked with timber and bags of concrete.
“This is just a loan. I needed to do some heavy lifting.”
“Uh huh,” I reply vaguely. I’m curious what he’s working on, but starting a conversation can only lead to bad things.
Or very, very good things.
“Well, don’t let me keep you!” I fix my eyes on the beach house ahead so I don’t notice the swell of his tanned bicep straining under his T-shirt, or the way his smile looks so damn good beneath those Ray-Ban shades.
Notice them any more than you already have.
“You’re really going to ride around on that thing?” Ryland doesn’t take the hint. He keeps driving next to me, one hand on the wheel. “Stop a moment and let me take a look. Your tires are nearly flat, I can already tell the chain is shot, it probably hasn’t been oiled in the last decade.”
“It’s fine!” I protest, even though he’s right.
“Sure, you’re just pushing it along for kicks,” Ryland laughs, and something about his tone flips a switch in me. It feels like ever since we met again here in town, he’s had the upper hand over me: always casual, always flirting, like I’m just another girl to charm in a long line of women.
Like our kiss in Vegas was just another kiss.
I stop in the street and turn to him. “What is it you want from me?” I ask bluntly.
Ryland looks surprised.
“Seriously,” I continue, my heart pounding with my sudden boldness. I never really speak my mind like this, but I’m tired and sweaty and Ryland’s grin is getting under my skin—hot and restless, an itch I know it would feel so damn good to scratch. “How do you see this playing out?” I demand. “You’re going to toss my bike up in your truck, and take me in your arms, and then what? Do you want to play games, or fool around, or just have some no-strings hookup like two strangers who don’t even care? Because I told you already, I can’t give you that. I can’t give you anything you want,” I add quietly, full of regret. Maybe in a different life, I could be easy and carefree, the kind of girl to kiss reckless strangers and not feel the scars. But I’m not, I’m stuck in this same skin of mine, brittle from the past, still trying to stitch myself back together.
Ryland’s gaze darkens. He cuts the engine, and climbs out of the truck.
Oh shit.
Suddenly, my resolve falters. He’s sweaty, too—hot and muscular, and radiating pure masculine physicality as he comes my way.
“Don’t be so sure.” Ryland’s voice is low and throaty. He closes the distance between us, and I can’t bring myself to move away. “You want to know what I want from you, sweetheart?”
I inhale in a shiver, caught in his dark stare. I should back away. I should run.
Instead, I nod.
“This.”
He leans in, until there’s no space between us left at all. Nothing separating me from his heat, his power, his intensity.
And then his lips softly brush mine, so gentle, it’s like a dream.
Yes.
I can tell myself a hundred times, I don’t want him. I can make all the promises in the world. But my body melts against him in an instant.
I’m undone.
9.
RYLAND
She tastes just as sweet as I remember, like sunshine and honey, all the good things I’ve been dreaming about. The things I’d never thought I’d have again. And maybe I don’t deserve them after the things I’ve seen, but God, right now, it doesn’t matter anymore.
Nothing does, except Tegan.
I close my hand around her cheek and deepen the kiss, easing her lips apart and stroking slowly into her mouth. She makes a moaning sound against me, and just like that, I’m lost. I forget about why this is a bad, bad idea; the fact she’s been pushing me away since the moment we met. I forget that I have nothing to offer a girl like this, and I probably never will. All that matters is this moment, right here, under the bright September skies, when our lips come together and everything else fades clean away.
It feels like coming home.
Tegan’s body sways against me, her breath catches in her throat. I slide my other arm around her waist, locking her slim body against me, crushing her curves against my chest. She kisses me back with a passion that’s edged with desperate need; clinging to me like she’s drowning, and I’m the only thing that can keep her afloat.
Through the rush of lust and pleasure and glittering heat, I remember her angry demand.
What do you want?
This. Her. Right here.
This is all I’ve ever wanted, and now I know I’ll never get enough.
Tegan wraps herself around me, and God, it feels like nothing else in the world. I grip her harder, molding her body against mine, devouring her. Taking everything she has to give. I don’t care that we’re off the side of the road here for anyone to see. I want to push her up against the truck and peel off that tank top, taste the salt on her damp skin, and show her what real pleasure feels like, bring a month of restless fantasies to life.