Instead of pulling away, I'm lifting her and pinning her to the wall so I can press my hard length right against her core. Our tongues and teeth clash, hungrily fighting for more, for a closeness that can't come from stolen kisses and my strategically placed hardened length, but I push forward anyway, picking up right where we left off beneath the dock. This time, when my lips trail across her jaw and down to the spot on her neck that I know drives her crazy, she doesn't get scared. Instead, she turns her head, giving me better access—an invitation to keep doing exactly what we're doing.
Her hands glide down my sides, blazing a new trail, reacquainting herself with the same map but with different markers. Those soft hands I swear I've felt ghost over my torso in my sleep the way they once did find the hem of my shirt, where they slowly test the waters, seeking permission to make this more. I don't stop her. I couldn't if I wanted to, but the second my shirt is off, and her eyes scan over my bare flesh, I find the strength to say, "Heartbreaker, are you sure this is what you want? Because if it's not, you need to tell me now. If this goes any further, I won't be able to stop."
"What gave you the impression I wanted to stop?"
The storm outside hammers against the metal roof with a savagery I've lived with every day since I left Willow Creek, but it's that cruelty that pushes me forward. My lips brush over hers. "We haven't talked."
She shakes her head. "Talking doesn't change that I want this."
That's all I need to hear to throw caution to the wind and abandon my willpower to stop. Her hands on my body, my rough skin pressed against every soft curve as her mouth devours mine, the passion behind her kisses mirroring mine, and time ceases to exist. The storm outside is washing away every doubt that this can't be the start of something new, something better than whatwe had before. The thunder shakes the earth, and we're a beautiful mess of skin and bones. With every crack of lightning that illuminates the darkened barn, every vibration, something shifts between us, something wild and honest, something unafraid.
Everything is fast and slow all at once. One moment, she's clothed, and the next, she's naked in my arms, and before I can overthink it, I dip my hand between us and free myself from my jeans. Her legs wrap around me, and when my tip nudges her warm, wet entrance, my stance falters. "God damn," I pant, bracing myself on the wall. I'm not even inside of her, and she has me weak at the knees. I push through the emotions that want to tether me to this moment and make it more than it is. Until she knows everything, I have to guard her heart. Making love to her will only make it all worse. For that reason, I slam in. She whimpers, and I kiss her collarbone as I catch my breath. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," she answers through labored breaths. "Don't stop."
I grip her ass and lift, finding just the right angle to use the wall to help anchor her weight and find my pace. I pull back and repeat the move, savoring the long stroke of feeling her wrapped around me as I'm balls deep inside of her.
"Fuck, why do you have to feel so good?" I growl before sliding in again, the sound of her wetness sucking me in, saying without words that I do to her exactly what she does to me, spurring me on as much as it pisses me off. When I've weighed the risks in every scenario where she runs, I let her go. I let her go because if she goes, it's what she needs to be happy, but fuck if I'm not reconsidering that stupid train of thought.
Her hips meet every one of my thrusts, her heels digging into my ass, pressing me inside, holding me where she wants me like she wants this to last the same way I do.
"The things that aren't good for us always feel the best." Her words give me pause, and I find her eyes. "Just pretend I'm another warm body, like any other you've used to replace me."
Did she really just fucking say that? "Another warm body?You could never be that, and you know it," I grind out, unable to let her pile on another lie. We’re drowning in enough of them.
I still feel her in my skin and bones. Not a day has gone by where I haven't carried her with me. Warm bodies are there to fill a void, one her absence carved inside of me. I wasn't supposed to ever see her again. She was supposed to be living a beautiful life without me. But she isn't just another warm body. She bites the corner of her mouth, and her fingers dig into my shoulders.
"Just finish what you started."
Her words hit hard, and I feel them everywhere, burning through my chest and making my pulse race. She's lying to me, to herself, to whatever we still have left. I can hear it in her voice, even when she's trying to sound like she doesn't care. I hate this. Hate the way we’re acting like what we had doesn’t matter anymore. Her voice sounds cold and distant, but when she speaks, I hear its tremble. She's scared, just like I am.
My hands are too rough, moving too fast. I'm being selfish, taking what I want instead of giving us what we need. I know it's wrong, but I can't seem to slow down. This isn't how we used to be together. We used to take our time, touch each other like we meant something. Now we're both fighting while we're trying to love each other. She says cruel things to push me away, and I respond by being too aggressive, too demanding. We're hurting each other in the worst way possible, and underneath it all, I can still feel how much we want this. How much we want each other.
We're barely holding on. Every word, every touch could be the thing that breaks us for good. But even as we're tearing each other apart, even as we pretend this doesn't mean anything, I know we're both terrified. If we stop pretending, if we let ourselves feel everything we used to feel, we might not be able to handle losing it all over again.
My grip tightens, fingers pressing into the curve of her ass, feeling the strength in her body, the way she fits against me like she was made for me. The thought hits me hard, and I can't shake it loose. Maybe I don't get to keep her. Maybe I've already lost anyright to call her mine. But I'll be damned if she's going to forget this…if she's going to forget me.
So I pour everything I can't say into the way I touch her, into every movement, every kiss. All the words I'm too scared to speak, all the love I'm too broken to admit. If this is all I get, if this is the last time she lets me close enough to matter, then I'm going to make sure it burns into her memory the way she's burned into mine. I thrust inside, fast and deep, her moans increasing to borderline screams that have me on the edge of coming. Were it not for the storm outside, I'd have to cover her mouth. I've never particularly enjoyed it when my partners were vocal, and now it's abundantly clear that it's always been because they weren't her. I love every intoxicating crescendo.
Her pussy starts to choke my cock like a vise. "I'm going to come."
"Fuck yeah, you are. Come on my cock, heartbreaker." The words are out like a reflex because, in my head, they are. In my head, she is still mine. That nickname rolling off my lips is the last thing I needed to say, but the way her orgasm barrels down and instantly starts milking my cock, it's hard to say she hated it. My teeth sink into the base of her neck, and her nails dig into my back as I find my release.
A small piece, minuscule as it may have been…it was there all the same, thinking this could cure the years of yearning and pent-up anger. That perhaps this moment had to happen so we could find closure—so I could finally let her go. There was a chance this was what I needed to get her out of my system. The goodbye that was taken from us. But those are minor vexations compared to the gut-wrenching sensation that all but chokes out whatever soul may have remained when I feel my release leak out of her and drip down my balls.
"Shit." I slam my fist into the wall beside her before setting her down. I don't dare look at her. I can't. I'm already ruined. Seeing the flush in her cheeks from the pleasure I just gave her will be my undoing.
"Dallas… Dallas, are you in here?" Madison's voice slices through the sound of our labored breaths. My eyes flash to the window, where I see it has stopped raining.
"You don't have to worry about me saying anything. I won't tell Madison. It's not like this changes anything." Laney's voice is low, like what just happened between us is a dirty secret.
I freeze and take a second to choose my words and not lose my mind, arguing the lie in every one of her words. This has most definitely changed things. She's still deflecting. There's no way she doesn't feel anything. We are far from over. I set her down and quickly pull up my wet jeans.
"Madison is the last thing I'm worried about. Right now, I'm more concerned about the mistake dripping down your thighs."
Fuck. I shouldn't have said that. Everything is coming out wrong, twisted by anger into something cruel. Years of things we've never said to each other, secrets I’ve kept, and this is what finally comes out? This isn't the mistake. We could never be a mistake. But I should have been more careful. I should have protected us both.
I close my eyes quickly, focusing on my pants. "I forgot to use a condom," I say with my back to her as I search for her top and hand it to her so she can cover herself.
