CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HE’D TOLD HER SHE MADE him feel good. And it was true. She definitely did. Mal couldn’t wait to get her home and get inside her again. But kissing her here in public was so sweet, so hot. He increased the pressure of his thigh against her pubic area, and her fingers curled into his arms even as her breath caught.
He loved the way she moaned into his mouth, loved the way her tongue stroked frantically against his as her hips began to move of their own accord. He could make her come like this.
The thought of her coming without him was more than he could bear. So he tugged open the rear door of the Tahoe and picked her up and set her inside. Then he joined her, shutting the door behind him and thanking God for tinted windows and a dark side street.
Sabrina didn’t need to be told what he wanted. She went immediately for his fly, unbuckling his belt and then unsnapping and unzipping his jeans while he found the condom he’d shoved into his pocket and handed it to her. She rolled it on and then peeled her dress up and over her head.
He didn’t wait for her to shimmy out of her thong panties. He simply grabbed hold of the fabric on one side and jerked the seam apart.
Sabrina gasped. And then she laughed. “Barbarian.”
“Horny barbarian,” he corrected as he fumbled with the catch for her bra while she put her knees on either side of him and positioned herself. Then she sank down on him, her pussy so wet and soft that he wanted to groan.
No, he did groan. And then he got her bra open and pushed the cups off her pretty tits so he could press them together and lick her nipples while she rode him.
“You’re so hot, Sabrina. So wet and beautiful.”
“You’re just saying that because I’m in control,” she panted.
“Control?” He laughed and then caught her hips in both hands and held her while he thrust her up and down on his cock again and again.
She gasped and moaned, her fingers clutching his shoulders as she held on.
“Who’s in control now, babe?” he demanded. “Who’s going to make you come and beg for more?”
“You,” she gasped. “You. Please.”
He didn’t know why he needed to be in control in that moment, but it was a fire inside him. A deep-seated urge to be the one to please her. The only one.
There was something out of control about the way he felt. Like he was the one making the play, but that the play was somehow out of bounds. That no matter what he did or how he did it, he was going to lose in the end.
He let go of her hips and tugged her head down to his, thrust his tongue into her mouth—her warm, wet mouth that felt like a heaven he’d never known. He kissed her hard, passionately.
“Ride me,” he told her.
She did as he commanded, rising and sinking, faster and faster, until she wrenched her mouth from his and threw her head back. He sucked one tight little nipple into his mouth while she cried out. He could feel the orgasm ripping through her, feel it in the way the walls of her pussy gripped him tighter. Her hips jerked in short, sharp movements, and her breath panted from her in little mewling sounds.
“Holy shit, that’s hot,” he said before turning her onto the seat and putting her heels against his shoulders. It made her so tight that he thought his head would explode as he stroked into her.
When he couldn’t take another moment of it, he freed her ankles. But that didn’t stop the earthquake from happening. The pressure crested inside him and spilled free as he groaned and lost the tenuous hold he had on his control.
He collapsed against her, breathing hard, and wondered what in the hell was happening to him.
* * *
They rode back to his house in awkward silence. Sabrina didn’t know what to say, but she knew that her world had changed somehow. Her body was hyperaware of the man at her side.
And her heart? Oh, her heart was ridiculously confused about him.
It was too soon for her to feel a thing for anyone, and yet her heart kept insisting it wasn’t. That it somehow knew this was right. That he was right.
It wasn’t right, dammit. It was convenient and, yes, definitely earth-shattering—but that didn’t make it life altering. Her life had already been altered before she met him, and she was smart enough to know she was still reacting to that. Mal wasn’t the answer. He was a pleasant distraction.
When they reached his house, he asked her if she wanted to watch a movie. She was too tired for sex after that last session, so she agreed. They curled up on the couch together with Mal’s arm around her. It was warm and companionable, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
When she woke up, she was in Mal’s bed—and still wearing her dress. She sat up, blinking and yawning.
The moon filtered through the half-open blinds, and Sabrina turned to Mal’s side of the bed. It was empty. She waited for a few minutes before rising and going to look for him. She debated with herself at first. He’d been a bit intense tonight, and she knew that seeing the Army Rangers hadn’t helped. No matter that he’d said he wanted to use his money to help soldiers, no matter that he’d seemed at peace with that idea, he’d been so driven and focused when he’d taken her in the Tahoe that she’d known it still preyed on him.
She heard a voice as she emerged into the kitchen, and she stopped, confused for a second until she realized it was only Mal’s voice and he must be on the phone. She took another couple of steps and then halted when his words slammed into her.
“No, Mom, she’s no one. Just a girl I met in Bridle Beach. … No, I’m not bringing her to meet you. She’s not important. … I’m working through my grief my own way, okay? … I’ll come by tomorrow before I leave, I promise. … Yeah, love you too. Bye.”
Sabrina’s heart hammered in her chest. She thought about turning around and going back to bed, pretending she hadn’t heard him. That’s what the old Sabrina would have done. The Sabrina who’d almost married a man who was already married just because he’d kept telling her nothing was wrong and he loved her so much he couldn’t live without her.
Yes, she’d eavesdropped—and there was no way she could pretend Mal hadn’t said he was leaving. As far as her being no one, well, she supposed that was true, in spite of the fact it hurt to hear him say it so baldly. She wasn’t important to him, nor did she have a right to be.
She stepped into the living room and Mal looked up, his face registering surprise and then a certain wariness that told her she wasn’t going to like what happened next.
“You weren’t in bed.”
He shook his head. He was sitting in the dark, and while her vision was already adjusted to it, she couldn’t quite see everything on his face.
“I got a phone call and I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. Got a call from my agent. I have to get back to San Francisco. I’m a free agent this year, and—”
“You don’t have to explain.” She didn’t want to listen to an explanation. She was through with explanations.
“I was going to tell you in the morning.”
“I’ll need to call the airline.”
“You can stay until it’s time for you to go.”
A bubble of hysteria rose in her throat. She swallowed it down again. “No, really, I can’t do that. I should get back home.”
“I’ll buy you a trip home. It’s the least I can do.”
As if he felt guilty and needed to assuage the feeling somehow. “I already have a trip. I need to rearrange it.”
“It’s no problem, Sabrina. I have money.”
She wanted to laugh. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and stared at him. “I know that. But I don’t need your money to get home. Really.”
He started to stand and she held out a hand, knowing that he intended to take her in his arms.
“Don’t touch me. Please don’t try to touch me. This is for the best anyway. It was never going anywhere, and the sooner I get home and get back to normal, the better.”
He got to his feet but didn’t make a move to come toward her. “This isn’t how I wanted it to end. I like you, Sabrina. I’d like to see you again.”
“That’s sweet of you, Mal. I don’t see how it’s possible, though. You live in San Francisco. I live in Nashville. Neither one of us is moving—that would be silly considering we barely know each other—and I don’t think I’m the sort of woman who can date you long distance. Not that you were talking about dating, but, well…” She trailed off into nothingness because she felt like she was making a fool of herself anyway.
“Maybe I was.”
She laughed, a harsh sound that threatened to turn into a sob. “It wouldn’t work, Mal. You know it as well as I do. You said I wasn’t anyone important, and you’re right.”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of the jeans he wore. He was shirtless, his hair mussed, and she wanted to go over and run her tongue over those beautiful muscles one more time. Except that time was over.
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. My mother is coping with Chris’s death and everything that means. He was getting married soon… I didn’t want her transferring those hopes to you and me. She wouldn’t mean to, but she would without intending it… and then she’d be hurt again when it didn’t happen.”
Her throat ached. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. I really do. And I don’t expect a thing from you. You already did so much for me.” Here she had to stop and swallow. “Thanks for everything. I won’t forget it.”
“Neither will I.”
She thought about extending her hand for a nice, warm handshake. And then she thought better of it. If she touched him—if their skin met—she’d lose the resolve she had to walk out of this room and keep her dignity intact.
“I’ll go pack my things and call the airline.”
“All right.”
Sabrina turned and hurried back to the room she’d been staying in before she’d moved to Mal’s bed. She closed the door and then slid down it until she was on the floor, her back against the wood, her heart thrumming hard and fast.
She’d known the risks of giving in to her desire for Mal, and she’d done it anyway. What she hadn’t known was how stupidly hopeful her heart could be—or what broken really meant until now.