Текст книги "Off Base"

Автор книги: Tessa Bailey

Соавторы: Sophie Jordan
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

“Yes, you can. You will.” His voice stroked over her like a physical caress.

She started to tremble as he pumped in and out, his big hands kneading her bottom in a way that got her hotter and made that invisible fist tighten and twist low in her belly. She was close again, and strange little animal sounds tore from her throat. She lifted and rolled her hips, her movements becoming clumsy in her desperation.

Another climax swelled up inside her, starting deep, curling her toes into the mattress. She lifted her hips and the tension in her core snapped. Delicious sensations shot out to every nerve ending before ribboning back to where he hit that sweet spot again and again. She gulped back a cry. Holy hell. She could hardly find the right spot when she was working to get herself off.

He knew where to find it. Knew every place to touch. Knew exactly what to do to make her body sing. One hand left her ass to find her clit, his fingers rubbing and pinching as he slid in and out of her.

That’s all it took. She shattered, coming again, quivering under him as his pace increased to a frenzy, their bodies smacking loudly. “I told you. That’s it, sweetheart.” His breathing changed—his movements becoming less graceful, urgent as he drove to his own release.

He cursed, surging deep and holding himself still as he came inside her. “Oh, Christ,” he panted.

He gave another short thrust, his hand splayed on her belly in a way that made her feel marked, her body owned and well used in a way that was wholly new and not unwelcome.

He removed his hand on her stomach and slid free, dropping on his side, breathing heavily. Euphoria clung to her, leaving her slightly cloudy-headed.

So this was what she had been missing.

The instant the thought entered her head, she wondered how she would ever go without it again. Without him. Euphoria or not, she wasn’t blind to the weirdness factor. She’d just had mind-blowing sex with her good friend. Oh, and he happened to be her brother’s best friend.

Would he get up and leave now? Would they resume their friendship like this never happened. She held very still beside him, not sure how to react. What did one say in a situation like this? Should she get up and put on her clothes—

His arm reached out and wrapped around her waist, hauling her close, tucking her to his side. She darted a look at his face. His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping. Yet. She waited several moments to see if he was going to say anything.

After ten minutes passed on her digital clock, she sucked up the nerve and broke the silence, asking, “Have you eaten yet?”

His mouth curved slightly. “No.”

“I have leftover spaghetti.”

“Sounds good.”

Smiling, she slid out from his arm and rose. Bending, she snapped up her discarded shirt.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Pulling her shirt over her head, she looked down over her shoulder at him, arching an eyebrow in question.

“I’ll just be undressing you again later.”

Heat flushed through her as his words rumbled over the air. Well, that answered the question if he planned on leaving any time soon.

Turning, she headed into the kitchen, a ridiculously wide grin on her face.

Chapter Nine

Cullen should have left the moment they finished, but he was far from having his fill of her. He wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe ever.

As soon as the fanciful thought entered, he pushed it away. This wasn’t anything but sex. Great sex. But just sex.

She sat close beside him, their thighs touching, as he ate spaghetti in front of the TV. They found a The Walking Dead marathon and settled in to watch. He loved looking at her expressive face. Even though she had seen this episode, she still covered her mouth and jumped at all the scary parts.

“So gross! Cannibals.” She wrinkled her nose at his bowl of spaghetti. “I’m glad I already ate.”

“Ah, c’mon.” He held up a marinara-coated meatball. “You don’t want a bite?”

“Ick! Get it away.” She leaned far to the side, laughing as he pushed his fork at her. “You’re going to drop it on me!”

He stuffed it into his mouth. Chewing, he latched onto her waist and tried to kiss her with a mouthful of saucy meatball.

She shrieked and tried to wiggle free. “Stop! Don’t!”

He managed to plant a kiss on her cheek, leaving a smear of marina. She wiped it with the back of her hand, laughing.

“Okay, no more,” he promised, grinning at her flushed face.

The show came back on and they settled side by side again, offering various opinions.

“I’d be one of the first to go,” she said with utter sincerity, shaking her head over her inevitable demise.

“No way. You’d have me, and I’d have explosives.”

She laughed and sent him a look. “You know bombs are loud.”

“So?”

“Well, that would draw more zombies.”

“Not if I kept killing them all,” he shot back.

She shook her head, clearly unconvinced at his logic.

“Look,” he said. “All I’m saying is that I can rig a bomb with a rubber band and household cleaning products. And I can do it fast enough for us to get away.”

“Arrogant much?” She snorted.

He shrugged. “I know my strengths.”

“Still. I think a tank from the base might be handy to have.”

He nodded. “Yeah, except they’re gas guzzlers, and I’d imagine we’ll have to worry about fuel.”

They continued on with their hypotheticals, talking in easy camaraderie until the episode came to an end. It was like every other time they hung out except different. Better. Because there was an easy intimacy between them. He could touch her arm, brush the hair back off her shoulder and she didn’t flinch.

“I need a shower,” she declared as the next episode started up.

“Go ahead. I’ll clean up.” He grabbed his plate, feeling her stare on him and fighting the wince. To anyone looking in they would appear almost … domestic. Hell.

“Thanks.”

He heard the shower water start as he loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Finished, he turned off the TV and headed for the bathroom. Outside the pink-and-green floral-print shower curtain, he slid off his briefs and pulled the curtain back.

She jumped and yelped like he was one of the zombies they had just finished watching. His gaze dropped, skimming her body. The full breasts with berry-tipped nipples made him instantly hard. He’d had no idea she had such beautiful breasts. Stepping inside the shower, he bent his head and drew one in his mouth. She yelped again, her hands flying to his head. Warm water sluiced over them, making her flesh warm and slippery-sleek in his hands.

He feasted on her breasts, his hand cupping her between her legs, rubbing where she was already wet from a combination of her desire and the shower water.

He backed her into the shower wall, pausing to squirt some body wash into his hands. He brought his hands back to her body, lathering her and massaging everywhere. Breasts, ass, her clenching sex. She closed her eyes, head rolling against the tiled wall. Her blonde hair trailed darkly wet over her shoulders and down her back.

She came, screaming his name, her chest heaving. He lifted one of her thighs, bringing it up to his hip, poised to enter her, but suddenly she broke away and dropped on her knees.

He looked down at her, water sluicing over her. She looked like some sea siren, her ripe mouth at the head of his cock, her blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded, begging for him to ruin her.

She took in his engorged head, rolling it past her lips. She sucked his wet cock into her mouth, as much as she could take. Her slim fingers fisted the base of him that she couldn’t swallow. He flattened one hand against the shower wall and fisted his other hand in the wet tangle of her hair.

She sucked him like she would take everything from him. His balls pulled tight and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

He tried to pull her to her feet. “Huntley, enough.”

She ignored him, sucking harder, her free hand coming up to cup his balls. He was lost. He moved his hips, fucking her mouth. She made a moan of approval. Her tongue glided along the underside of his dick, and he was done. He came, losing himself with a cry, and her mouth took all of him, wringing every lost drop from him.

He pulled her up by her arms, feeling dazed. “Huntley.”

She stared at him, her eyes glassy, and he knew she felt it, too. That this thing between them was good. Scary good.

She scraped some wet tendrils back from her cheek. “I never really understood why women did that. I never liked it, but that … with you.” Her eyes glowed. “I loved it.”

His chest squeezed. He brushed a thumb over her cheek and turned her around, finishing washing her body and then himself, his movements brusque, perfunctory. He didn’t say another word as they stepped from the shower and dressed again.

It would have made sense to leave after that. To say good night and part ways. They both had work early the following morning. It would have made sense to kiss her goodbye and chalk this up as reckless, crazy hot sex. Instead, he borrowed her toothbrush, flipped off the light and climbed into bed beside her, pulling her close to his side.

He would worry about what made sense later.

* * *

Huntley woke in the dark. She blinked for a moment, knowing something was off. It took another moment for her to remember she wasn’t alone. The events of the night flooded over her and her body tingled, deliciously sore and tender from sex. Sex with Cullen. Cullen who still slept beside her.

She turned her head, her hand reaching out to touch his bare shoulder. He muttered something and tossed his head, a low wretched sound coming from him. She knew the sound. She had heard the sounds of grief working many a late-night shift in the ER.

“Cullen,” she whispered, hoping to ease him from his bad dream. A dream she was certain was rooted in the loss of Xander.

His eyes opened at his name, a soldier accustomed to waking instantly. Pain glazed his eyes. The kind of pain that he never let anyone glimpse during daylight hours. Now with his defenses down, she saw right into him. Through him. He couldn’t hide his ghosts from her.

She reached out a hand and stroked his jaw, conveying that she was here for him. She understood, and she would always be there. He never had to be alone. If he would just let—

He snatched her wrists, tense lines bracketing his mouth. He held her wrists between them, his grip as fierce as his glittering gaze.

She stared back, questioning, unsure. “Cullen, are you all right?”

He dropped his hands from her wrists. His chest rose and fell several times before answering. “I guess I am taking Xander’s death hard.”

Her pulse skittered at this admission from him. He was talking to her. Actually opening up about what was going on behind his carefully constructed barriers.

“I know.”

“I just can’t stop wondering what if. What if I had been a better instructor? Halfway through the program Xander came to me expressing doubts. What if I hadn’t pushed him to stick with it? I just feel like I failed him. My old man never wanted me to go into EOD.” He laughed and the sound was raw with pain. “He said I didn’t have the right temperament for it. He said I’d fuck up. I didn’t listen to him.”

“He was wrong, Cullen. You didn’t fail. You did your job.” She tossed onto her side to better face him. “Xander was a human being with free will. He made his own choices, and he wouldn’t have stuck it out if he didn’t want to.”

“Yeah, that’s my fucking ego, I guess, thinking I matter so much.”

“No.” Her voice fell hard. “It’s not ego. You were his friend. Of course you mattered to him, but you’re not God. You weren’t responsible for his fate, and I know he’s looking down at you now, wanting you to believe that.” In the darkness, she could make out the gleam of his eyes as he studied her.

“God, you’re too nice. Can there be any girl as sweet as you?”

She frowned. “I’m not sweet.”

She’d always been the sweet girl. Predictable. In fact, the only unpredictable thing she ever did was leave Georgia. Of course, she had only done that to get away from Jackson. Everyone assumed they’d get back together. Get married and have the requisite two kids. It was almost as though she feared that happening, so she ran across the country to avoid that fate.

“Sweeter than most girls…” His voice faded, and she knew what he was thinking. Sweeter than most girls I sleep with.

She was well acquainted with his normal type of female. Most were Army groupies eager for a meaningless fuck. She wasn’t that. This wasn’t meaningless for her. He had to know that even without her saying it. He knew her too well.

His hand shifted on her back again, stroking softly. “You deserve so much, Huntley.”

“So do you,” she countered, her chest aching, almost hurting because she knew he didn’t believe that of himself. Especially not carrying the burden of Xander’s death. “Some day you’ll realize that.”

She only hoped it wouldn’t be too late before he realized that a part of that better fate he deserved could be a future with her.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” She touched his face again, and he reached up to hold her wrists.

“You’re a good man, Cullen.” He needed to hear this. He needed to believe it. He’d been listening to his father call him a fuck-up for years. And now he was blaming himself for what happened to Xander. He needed to know someone believed in him—that she did.

He stared at her for a long moment before releasing her wrists. He shoved his hand between her thighs, nudging them apart, sending the question on her lips and her thoughts scattering.

He knuckled her panties aside without a word and plunged a finger inside her. She gasped as he worked her with a few strokes until she was wet.

He withdrew his hand and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. Still holding her panties to the side, he thrust inside her. She cried out, straddling and impaled on him, the sensation tottering the edge of pain and pleasure.

He gripped her waist and guided her with his big hands, practically lifting her up and down until she gained her own rhythm and could move. But even that wasn’t enough for him. Not in his present state.

With a growl, he rolled her over onto her knees, hauling her bottom up and pulling her back flush against him. He rubbed his head along her crease, playing in her moist folds for a moment before driving into her again.

She whimpered, an orgasm swelling at the first plunge. Her sex clenched around his thickness. She’d never been taken from behind like this, and the position pushed down on her sweet spot. OhGodOhGod! His every thrust stroked along that bundle of nerves and she shuddered, shattering under him.

Her muscles turned to jelly and her body went limp, giving out under him, but he wasn’t having it. His grip on her hips tightened and he hauled her back up, holding her for his hammering cock.

One of his hands skated up the slope of her back and curled around her shoulder, anchoring her for him as he fucked her hard. He was a beast. It felt desperate and primal. And she loved it. She was so wet she could hear the slick glide of him working in and out of her. A second orgasm swelled before the tremors from her first had even subsided.

They climaxed simultaneously. He slammed into her with a last grind of his pelvis, his cock pulsing as he released inside her.

Pulling out of her, he dropped down on the mattress. She collapsed onto her stomach, her sex throbbing in the aftermath. She stared wide-eyed into the dark, marveling at how every encounter with him was different, better.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth, holding in any words she might regret.

She would never tire of this, and yet it was ephemeral. As fleeting and illusory as a dream. In the morning it would be gone.

His hand came down on the small of her back, his fingers trailing up the dip of her spine and moving between her shoulder blades. Goosebumps broke out over her skin.

“Did I hurt you?” His deep voice rumbled over the dark, wrapping around her.

“No. I liked it.” Loved it. Loved him.

Oh, God. She wanted to sleep every night beside him. She wanted to be there for him when he woke with a bad dream. His friend. His lover. All of that. She wanted to be everything to him.

She jammed her eyes shut and took a steadying breath, thankful he couldn’t see her face in the dark as she reached this staggering realization.

“I was rough. I’m sorry—”

“I loved it.” I love you. She exhaled, tapping her fingers against her mouth.

His hand settled flatly on her back, his palm splaying warmly in the center. The imprint of his hand there seared deep into her—through skin, sinew and bone, directly into her soul.

* * *

In the murky light of predawn, Huntley felt the bed dip and shift. All at once she was wide awake. Her heart beat fast in her chest as she stilled and waited, hoping, praying he would kiss her goodbye, maybe whisper a quick promise. She knew he was leaving, but she longed for him to say something. See you tonight. Call you after work. Let’s grab dinner. Can I spend the night again? Something. Anything but him slipping silently from her room like a thief in the night.

Cracking one eye the barest peep, she identified Cullen’s outline at the side of the bed—the broad shoulders and sinewy back tapering to a narrow waist. He moved out of range of vision. She heard the rustle of his clothing and then nothing. She could feel his stare on her in the shadows. A long moment passed.

Her ears strained and her heart locked up inside her at the sound of his tread leaving her room. There was the faint jangle of his keys where he had left them in the living room. The door opening and shutting.

And he was gone.

* * *

He shouldn’t have left like that, but it was the kindest thing to do. Much better than putting a brittle smile on his face and making awkward conversation.

He hit the unlock for his truck and slid behind the wheel. They would talk, but first he needed to wrap his head around how this changed everything.

He rubbed at his chest. It felt like a boulder sat there, pressing, pressing.

You can’t give her what she deserves.

That much was true. He’d promised her brother he would look out for her. Not fuck her until he couldn’t remember his own name. And the way he had been with her? Shit. The sex had been dirty and rough. The way he liked it.

He pulled out of her driveway and headed for his house. He needed to change before heading to base. He ran three miles every morning with his trainees, and he’d never been late. He glanced at the clock. The guys wouldn’t know what to think. Hell, he didn’t know what to think.

He dragged a hand over his face and thought about the last ten hours. He’d never had that with a woman before. That closeness, that feeling—both physical and emotional. He wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t want it again. It was going to be torture to keep his hands off her, to resist her now that he knew how it could be between them.

So don’t resist.

And what? Be a boyfriend to her? A husband? He didn’t do that. Relationships. Monogamy. He wasn’t that kind of guy. He was the kind of guy who woke up in sweats from bad dreams. He couldn’t be like Beck. He didn’t have that seed planted inside him. He failed people. His father. Xander. He made suck-ass decisions. He couldn’t trust himself. If he failed Huntley, that would be the deepest cut yet.

Inhaling a deep breath, he vowed to let her go before it got any more complicated than it already was.

Chapter Ten

Two days went by before Huntley saw Cullen again.

He’d sent her a text the previous night explaining they had night drills. She knew they occasionally conducted training exercises that simulated wartime scenarios. That he thought to text her at all should have mollified her, but it did little to quell the ache of not seeing him or alleviate the tangle of her thoughts churning in aimless circles in an effort to figure out what they were to each other now.

She texted him back and invited him over on Friday night. Beck and his new girlfriend were coming over for dinner. Kenna would be going back to Georgia with him, and Beck had decided to stay a little longer and help her pack her things.

Cullen had texted back that he would join them but might be running late. She glanced at the door all through dinner, wondering if he really was going to make an appearance.

He finally arrived when she was serving dessert, his hair still damp from a shower. She inhaled his soapy scent and the faint whiff of deodorant as he passed her into the dining area, and all her girl parts quivered with longing, eager for an encore.

“Hey, man.” Beck rose and clapped him on the back, pulling him close in one of those half hugs guys did. He motioned to Kenna. “This is Kenna. My girl.”

Even Cullen smiled over Beck’s dreamy tone as he grasped Kenna’s extended hand. “Nice to meet you.

Cullen’s gaze lifted back to Huntley and a giddy tingle spread throughout her.

“I can cut a piece of lasagna for you,” she offered. “Or would you like a piece of cake?”

Cullen’s gaze slid over her, warming her everywhere. “I’ll have a slice of cake.”

Desire slicked through her, tightening her skin. Her bones felt like pudding beneath his gaze. Why did it feel like he was asking for something else?

“A cup of coffee, please, too, if you have it.”

Nodding, she turned and disappeared inside her small kitchen that suddenly felt too cramped and hot. She told herself it was overly warm from the lasagna she had baked for two hours, but the oven had been off for more than an hour now. Her hands shook as she fetched a mug from the cabinet.

When she turned, she yelped, nearly dropping the mug in her hands to find him directly behind her.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his shoes thudding on the tile floor as he stepped close, so close she could count the tiny flecks of gold in his brown eyes. He didn’t look sorry. No, the directness of his gaze said a lot of things, but it wasn’t an apology.

“S’kay,” she murmured, palming the smooth mug in her hand. The counter’s edge cut hard into her back. He didn’t seem in any hurry to step aside for her. “You just startled me.”

“A little jumpy?” His eyes scanned her face.

She shook her head and then nodded, undecided on what she was, but figuring it was okay to admit the truth. She was jumpy around him, and standing this close made her feel like she was coming out of her skin.

Stepping forward to pass around him, she sucked in a breath as her front brushed the hard wall of his chest. Lust shot through her. Even though she wore a blouse. Even though he wore a soft cotton T-shirt. Her breasts tightened, the tips reacting on memory, pinching into tight, needy points.

A hiss of breath escaped him. At the sound, a steady calmness came over her. He felt it, too. He wanted her again.

She turned her back to him, slicing into the chocolate cake she had baked yesterday when she was going out of her mind thinking about him and needing a distraction. She cut four generous slices, setting each one down on a dessert plate. She covered the cake with the glass dome with one hand, lifting an icing-coated finger to her lips. Before she could lick her finger clean, Cullen’s long fingers wrapped around her wrist.

He leveled a searing gaze on her, intent and hungry for something that definitely was not cake. Her chest squeezed so tightly it ached. She watched him, her eyes wide, as he lifted her hand to her mouth. He brought her index finger into his mouth, sucking the chocolate-coated fingertip. She gasped and his eyes darkened. He made a low growling sound of satisfaction. Her stomach dipped and twisted as he circled her finger with his tongue, licking off every last bit of icing.

“Need help with the cake, sis?” Beck called from the other room.

She jumped guiltily at the sound of her brother’s voice. Mortification fired her cheeks as she thought about him in the next room. Her brother walking in on her getting her finger sucked by his best friend wasn’t exactly on her things-to-do list. She pulled her finger free and hastily collected three plates. Eyes still trained on her, Cullen picked up the last plate of cake and followed her out of the kitchen, only to find Beck and Kenna locked in a scorching kiss that made her want to spoon out her eyes. As much as she adored her brother, there were some things you just didn’t want to see.

She cleared her throat and they withdrew from each other, both looking like they wished they were alone in a bedroom and not in her kitchen. She could understand that. Her finger still tingled from Cullen’s mouth, and that wasn’t the only part of her tingling.

She passed around the cake.

“Mmm, delicious,” Kenna said after taking her first bite.

“Hunt knows her way around a kitchen,” Beck volunteered.

She shrugged self-consciously. “Well, Grandma didn’t let me leave Georgia without copying down all her recipes.”

Her brother nodded at Cullen. “Surprised Hunt didn’t fatten you up while I was gone, Cullen.”

Cullen dug into a huge mouthful of cake that would have been four bites for her. “If I didn’t run so much, she would have.”

They finished their cake in silence. Plate empty, Beck leaned back in his chair, his fingers trailing in the ends of Kenna’s dark strands. “Have you given any more thought to what we talked about, Huntley?”

She felt the weight of Cullen’s gaze on her and shifted uneasily. “A little,” she replied vaguely, knowing he was referring to her moving back to Georgia.

“It’d be nice to have you near us.” Her brother draped his hand over Kenna’s bare knee. For a moment his gaze got lost there, like that pretty knee was all he wanted in this world. Huntley risked a quick glance up to find that Cullen was watching her with almost equal intensity.

She quickly escaped his stare, looking back at her brother and Kenna. They were an “us” now. A lump formed in her chest. She was happy for him … and envious.

“Talk to her, Cullen.” Beck tore his gaze off Kenna’s knee and clapped Cullen on the shoulder. “Tell her she should move back home.”

A flicker of something passed over Cullen’s face. Huntley held her breath, trying to read him, to decipher what it was she had seen there in that split second.

“I don’t know,” Cullen answered slowly. “She should do what she wants. Do you want to move back home?” Air deflated from her lungs as Cullen lifted an eyebrow at her.

“Well, Hunt? What do you want to do?” Beck prodded.

She moistened her lips, her gaze stuck on Cullen. “I—I don’t know.”

Cullen’s gaze dropped to his cake, cutting another bite as if her answer didn’t matter one way or the other to him. “I guess you better decide that first.”

The next half hour passed in a miserable blur. What had she expected? For Cullen to declare himself? Announce that he loved her and needed her here? That kind of thing only happened in movies. Not. Her. Life.

After accepting two slices of chocolate cake to go, Beck and Kenna left.

Cullen made himself at home, busying himself in the kitchen, loading dishes into the dishwasher like it was any other night they were hanging out.

Why couldn’t they have this all the time? Well, with the added bonus of sex, of course.

She watched him for a moment, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter, admiring the way his jeans fit. God. How could she ever be in the same room with this man and not want to crawl inside him? Loading the last glass, he shut the dishwasher door and turned. His mouth curled up at one corner as he caught her watching him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she rejoined. “You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t even dirty the majority of them.”

“I don’t mind. And I fully intend to take some lasagna home with me.”

So he wouldn’t be staying the night then?

She moved into the living room and sank down on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her and willing the awkwardness between them to evaporate. She reached for the remote as he lowered beside her, glad to have something to occupy her hands.

“Want to watch some TV?” She tried not to stare at his muscled thighs or the way his shirt rested against his flat stomach and cut pecs. “I think there’s a Vikings marathon on.” She barely made it to the right channel before warm fingers circled her ankle.

She gasped and dropped the remote as he tugged her foot onto his lap. “What are you doing?” she choked.

“Rubbing your feet. You’ve been on them all day.”

She sighed in joy the moment his thumbs pushed down on the balls of her feet. Her body went limp and she melted into the couch. He was right. She had been on her feet all day. Even with the best shoes and massaging gel-cushioning inserts, her feet ached by the end of her shift. “That is amazing.”

His eyes smiled down at her as the heel of his hand glided along her arch, exerting the perfect amount of pressure. Her feet wept for joy, but that wasn’t the only part of her reacting. Pleasure radiated from her feet and traveled up her legs, settling between her thighs. A low throb pulsed there as he cupped her heel and ground down on the flesh with the pad of his thumb. Sensation shot to every nerve in her body.

“Ohhhh, your hands are amazing,” she moaned.

His grin deepened. “I’ve been told.”

She tossed one of the smaller couch cushions at his face. “I bet.”

They fell into companionable silence, the awkwardness of earlier gone. She turned her face into the couch to stifle another moan. When his hands glided up her calves and started working into the tense flesh, she was lost. Her knees turned to pudding, falling slightly open in invitation.

“Huntley?”

“Hmm?”

“We need to talk.”

She frowned. She didn’t want to talk. Not right now. She just wanted him to keep doing delicious things to her with his hands. Maybe he could add his mouth next. She wouldn’t be opposed to him unsnapping his jeans either and taking out—

“Huntley?” he pressed. “Last night …”

Dread pooled in her. Nothing good would follow those words, she was sure.

“It was good,” he continued, his thumb tracing circles on the inside of her leg. Her heart tripped inside her chest.

Good? She snorted. That’s all it was to him? She pulled her legs away, tucking her knees against her chest.

“But?” she said, her tone sharper than she intended. She propped her chin on her knees. “I can hear the ‘but’ in there. Is this where you let me down easy? You don’t have to do that, Cullen. I know you. I’m not one of your other women you have to evade.”