Page 142 of The Long Way Home
My eyes trail to the line of her throat. Then dip to the delicate curve of her collarbone, then lower to those shorts—those goddamn, barely-there shorts. She doesn’t flinch under my stare, doesn’t adjust. She wants me watching.
She tips her chin up, defiant, daring me to be the one who breaks first.
For her, I oblige. I always will.
“Are you gonna keep teasing me?” My voice is stripped to gravel. “Or are you gonna let me finally do something about it?”
“Who says I’m teasing?”
“You were always a terrible liar, Sunny.” I step in, caging her between my arms, her back brushing the wall. “You knowexactlywhat you’re doing in those shorts.” I hook a finger in the thin material, rolling it between my fingers.
She raises a brow. “Oh, these little things? You like these?”
My hand slides to her waist, fingers slipping just beneath the waistband of her shorts, dragging slowly down the curve of her hip. She shivers under my touch.
“I like what is under them more.”
Her inhale stutters, and for a moment, her confidence wavers.
“And if I make you work for it?” she whispers. “Will you work for it, Rhett?”
I lean in until my mouth is at her ear. I feel her breath catch, and her knees subtly press together.
“Tell me to get on my knees, Sunny.” My lips graze her skin. “See if I won’t work for it.”
Her fingers brush my chest. I’m unsure whether she is steadying herself or trying to push me over the edge.
Either way, it is a spark to gasoline. I could take her mouth and her breath and her balance and make her forget every name but mine. But instead, I lean in, lips brushing hers just enough to make her chase the rest. She exhales into me, and I know she is becoming impatient.
I pull back before she gets it, my mouth still hovering over hers, her breath mixing with mine.
“You know, Sunny,” I murmur. “All you have to do is…” My thumb slides along her hip. “Say it.”
I let my lips ghost over her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth.
“Tell me this is what you want,” I breathe against her lips, “and I’ll have you begging long before I ever touch the places you’re thinking about.”
Her hands snag my shirt, dragging me closer. Her body presses flush against mine. Her hands are greedy, and every inch of space evaporates.
Her eyes find mine. “I’ve wanted this since you showed up at that wedding and wrecked my whole damn life,” she whispers. Her eyes drift over my face. “Since that stupid fucking tailgate.”
Green light. That is all I need.
I grip her thighs and lift her without effort. She wraps around me, ankles crossing at my back, hands tangling in my hair, and we move towards the bed.
Her fingers clutch my shirt, anchoring herself while I pull her into me. Lips swollen, breaths sharp and ragged, skin pressing to skin. I drag her close, trace every curve, every heat-slicked line.
I set her on the bed without breaking the kiss, groaning into her mouth as I tear my shirt free and toss it aside. Her hands are already on me, roaming, learning, and when I pull back, her eyes roam over my chest with no shame at all.
She smirks, breath hitching. “I think I could get used to this.”
I step back slightly, because I need the sight. Her hair is a wild halo, thighs glowing in the moonlight. Lying there, unguarded and fierce all at once, she doesn’t just claim a piece of me.
She owns me. Entirely.
“God,” I say. “You’re perfect. Look at you.” My hands frame her. “Every inch of you—made for me. You’re so beautiful when you’re all fire and need.” My voice roughens. “You drive me insane, Sunny.”
She shivers beneath me as her hands slide into my hair, holding tight. “Rhett…”
