His eyes crack open, dark and stormy and beautiful like summer thunderstorms, but softer now than they’ve ever been.
“What if I told you I was thinking about how much I love you?” I whisper, testing the words on my tongue.
His breath hitches. For one terrifying second, silence stretches. Then his lips curl, and his hand cups the back of my head, dragging me close.
“Then I’d tell you I love you more,” he growls against my mouth.
“Always have. From the second you looked up at me, so fucking pretty and fierce.”
Tears sting, but I kiss him before they can fall. Hard. Hungry. I climb over him, straddling his waist, his cock already hard and heavy against me.
“Say it again,” I beg, rocking over him, heat flooding between my thighs.
His hands clamp on my hips to guide me down, fierce and steady, onto him. The stretch makes me gasp, makes my vision blur.
“I love you, petal,” he groans, burying his face in my neck as I sink onto him. “I love you so fucking much it’s tearing me apart. And it feels so fucking good.”
I ride him slow, savoring every inch, every scrape of him inside me. His eyes are locked on mine now, fever-bright, as if he’s memorizing me, branding me into his soul.
“I love you too, Bear,” I whisper, my body trembling as pleasure coils tight. “More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”
He roars my name when we fall together, clutching me so close it’s almost pain.
After, we lie tangled, sweat-slick and laughing quietly. I trace circles on his chest, my heart still pounding.
“So,” I murmur, teasing, “how do you feel about a road trip?”
His brows rise. “Road trip?”
“Mhm. A sexy road trip. Just you, me, your truck… maybe a motel or two. To reclaim a few things from my old life while I show you a few places?”
He smirks, feral and tender all at once. “Fuck motels. Only five stars for you, baby. And as long as every mile ends with you on top of me, petal, I’m in.”
And just like that, the world feels wide open. Ours for the taking.
21
KNOX
One week later
The cabof the truck smells like pine and sex and Lily’s perfume.
We’ve been on the road for three days. Her hair’s up in a messy bun, her bare feet propped on my dash like she owns it and the view beyond.
Which she does.
I’d dreaded this trip—the loose ends, wrangling with the lawyers, the possibility of bumping into Brandon—but it’s been the opposite of dread.
My woman let me soothe her when the nerves came, and Christ, was that a fucking privilege. Sitting behind her in the hotel bathroom, rubbing her shoulders while she breathed, whispering dirty nothings until she stopped shaking.
My strong little flower.
Packing her things was a whole other beast.
I didn’t like stepping into the space she’d once shared with another man, the smell of him still faint in the clinical rooms they called a home.
But her doing it with my cum seeping out of her cunt and dripping down her pretty thighs? That made it almost bearable.
