Page 104 of Misguided
I reach for his face, cupping it in my palms, and run my thumbs over his cheekbones. “Right for what?”
He sucks in a deep breath as I let go of his face, and holds my gaze as he admits, “I love you, Mel. That’s how different you are, how much you mean to me.” He frowns, seemingly unsure of himself. “If you don’t feel the same way, just don’t tell me, okay? Just … I don’t know. Pretend a while longer? I don’t want to lose this just yet.”
I chuckle, tucking my chin up as I look at this vulnerable man who hid behind the lie. “Oh, Dog. I’m sorry.”
His eyes slip closed, the pain so clear.
“I like you, a lot, but I couldn’t love you.”
He tries to move away, yet I loop my arms under his and hold him to me with my hands pressed flat on his shoulder blades.
“Hear me out, please.”
The anguish in his gaze as he reopens his eyes almost has me second-guessing what I’ve said, except he has to know.
“I can’t love you, Dog, because it wouldn’t be fair to Koen.”
His lips twitch in the corners, as though he’s not quite sure whether he should believe what I’ve said.
“I love you, Koen. Even when he’s playing pretend.”
“You fuckin’ devil woman.” He grips my face hard between his hands, his palms covering my ears so tight that my sense of hearing is blocked, heightening the kiss he delivers.
I feel my way along the curves of the muscles in his back, down to the dip before his butt as he pulls back and takes me in with new eyes. He grumbles, deep in his chest, as I circle my thumbs in the dimples at the small of his back.
“I could do this all night, you know.”
“We’ve got all night,” I remind him.
“Enough talkin’ though, babe. Actions, not words from now on.”
I chuckle at the playfulness in his eyes, the rise of his cheeks as he flashes the dashing smile that’s ruined more women than I’d care to acknowledge.
“Okay.”
I let go of his face and hook both thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, then push.
“Yeah,” he grumbles in that throaty way that drives me wild and lifts his hips.
I wrestle them down past his thighs, and then hook a foot in the material to thrust them clear of his legs. He kicks the boxers off, knocking my legs wide as he settles his between them again.
The fire outside is near non-existent; the shadows overtake inside the tent making Dog no more than a silhouette as he retreats to kneel between my ankles, his hands on either side of my thighs. I reach out for his hair again, knotting my fingers in the lengths as he leans down, his strong shoulders arched, and runs his nose up the damp fabric between my legs.
I damn near hit the roof when he drops his open mouth over my panty-clad mound and gusts a heavy breath against the swollen flesh beyond, sucking it back in equally as hard to create a contrast of hot breath interspersed with cool night air.
“Fucking smells like magic,” he mutters, easing the fabric aside with one finger.
I never thought of somebody smelling me would turn me on, but damn, it so does.
The tip of his tongue meets bare flesh, flicking, teasing, taunting. My chest aches with the moan that breaks free as he brings me to the edge. I grip his hair with such conviction I’m sure his scalp must be on fire, and yet he doesn’t seem to mind; it makes him lick faster.
“Fuck, Dog … that’s …”
“Good?” he mumbles around my pussy.
I just about come from the vibrations alone.
“Yeah.” My head drops back, and I run my fingertips around the shell of his ear, along the line of his jaw, and back into his hair as he continues to eat me out like a man who hasn’t feasted for days.