10
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Lynx had never wanted to break a promise more than he wanted to right then.
Although he was laughing, his body was hard as fucking granite, his dick painfully erect, desperate for the woman he’d been waiting what felt like a lifetime for.
However, he hadn’t brought her here to seduce her.
He really did want to show her something.
“Come on.” He nodded to his left, still grinning despite the fact his cock was throbbing like a motherfucker.
He could see the fire burning in Reagan’s dark gaze, both desire and frustration. He liked that about her. The fact that she wore her emotions on her sleeve, that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. That was hotter than hell.
“Asshole,” she muttered.
Yep, definitely hot.
Even when it appeared she was pissed at him.
However, he hoped what he had to show her would take some of the sting out of his backing down, because Lynx was fairly certain he could’ve kissed her and Reagan would’ve been hot to trot right along with him. The girl was as flammable as dry grass, anxious for a spark to set her aflame. And he knew without a doubt Reagan Trevino would burn bright and hot. The woman had been neglected for too damn long, and he wanted to be the one to erase her past and show her how a real man treated a lady.
But he couldn’t.
Not yet.
Taking her hand, Lynx tugged her along. When she tried to pull away, he linked their fingers together, still chuckling.
Once they were in the farthest corner of the warehouse, he released her hand, then reached for the cloth cover he’d placed there … a while ago.
“If you’ve got a bed underneath there, Lynx Caine, I’m—” Her words abruptly ended. “Oh, wow. Those are…” Her eyes lifted to his and he saw the confusion there.
“I made them for you.”
“What?” She frowned. “When?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A while back.” No way could he tell her that he made the pair of rocking chairs about eight years ago, a short time after she’d mentioned how much she liked the ones on his father’s front porch.
“And you made them for me?”
He could tell she was trying to hide her giddy reaction, so he motioned her toward the chair. “Sit. Test it out.”
She swallowed hard but moved closer. Lynx watched as her small hand caressed the polished pine armrest.
“They’re beautiful. I can’t believe…”
When she sat down, her grin widened. He watched as she pushed back with her booted foot, putting the chair in motion, slowly rocking backward, then forward.
“Thought maybe I could take them out to Amy’s,” he suggested. “That way you’d have them on the front porch when you wanna sit outside.”
Her eyes met his. “You really made these for me?”
He nodded, hating that he suddenly felt shy around her. That was something he never felt. He ruled the roost, prided himself on it. Yet when he was around Reagan, he felt vulnerable in a way he’d never felt before.
“When?” Her gaze narrowed. “When did you really make these, Lynx?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Hell, I don’t remember.”
That was a lie. Lynx remembered it like it was yesterday because he’d made the first one right after she’d broken up with that asshole Billy Watson the very first time. She’d been barely eighteen years old, just graduated from high school, and Lynx had been over the fucking moon. Because of her age, he’d been forced to take a step back from her when he’d first kissed her, and the next thing he knew, Reagan had started dating Billy not long before she graduated. The second he’d found out, Lynx had been pissed, confused. He remembered praying, something he hadn’t done in a long damn time. Praying that God would strike Billy Watson down where he stood. No one had ever accused Lynx of being reasonable.
So, that first time they broke up, he’d automatically assumed it was over. Never in his life would he have imagined that relationship would’ve dragged out for so damn long. Eight fucking years he’d waited for this moment.
“You don’t remember?” She clearly didn’t believe him.
“Nope. Sorry.”
Lynx damn near backed up, but somehow, he managed to hold his ground when Reagan got up from the chair. Hell, his feet were yelling for him to run, but he stood there, watching her, bracing himself.
“Do you remember that night?” she asked.
“What night?” Oh, he knew, all right. But he figured it was far safer to play dumb right now.
“The night I sat on your dad’s front porch with you. In those rockin’ chairs.”
He didn’t respond.
“I’m pretty sure I went a little overboard talkin’ about ’em.” She glanced over her shoulder at the two rocking chairs behind her before turning back to him. Her smile was wistful, as though she was remembering that night. “And you just happened to make these? For me?”
“Yep.”
“But you never gave ’em to me.”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged again.
She took another step closer and Lynx found himself staring down at her.
“Tell me when you made them,” she urged, her voice softer, far too seductive for his fragile grasp on his self-control.
“A while back,” he offered.
“How long’s a while?”
He shrugged.
She stepped closer.
This time he did take a step back.
She took another step closer.
“Reagan…”
“Tell me, Lynx.”
“Eight years,” he admitted, his voice rough.
Something softened in her eyes and he knew without a doubt, for the first time in his life, Lynx was about to go back on a promise.
Eight years.
Reagan couldn’t believe her ears.
Lynx had made these rocking chairs eight years ago.
Back around the time when she was eighteen years old. Old enough for…
“Why?” she asked.
Another shrug.
“Why’d you stay away?” That was a question she’d wanted him to answer for so long.
“You were too young,” he grumbled.
She knew that. She had been young. Not that she’d liked that conclusion when she’d come to it all those years ago. In fact, Reagan had convinced herself that Lynx hadn’t really wanted her in the first place. Her irrational brain wouldn’t allow her to believe he’d kept his distance because she was underage.
Unable to help herself, Reagan reached out and touched him. She gently caressed the side of his face, the rough rasp of his stubble abrading her palm and sending a shiver down her spine. She had wanted to do this for so long, the memory of that long-ago night slamming into her. The same emotion, the same urgent need fizzed under her skin, thrumming in her blood.
Something about Lynx made her body heat, every cell hypersensitive, eager for him to touch her again. It’d always been like that. But he had rejected her so easily, made her feel as though she wasn’t worth his time. Then again, Lynx hadn’t actually done anything to make her feel that way, aside from keeping his distance, but she had allowed the irrational thoughts to grow roots, to become the truth. Hence the reason she’d put that much needed space between them, refusing to think on it too much.
“Why didn’t you give them to me?” she probed. “And don’t tell me you don’t know.” Reagan narrowed her eyes. “I know you, Lynx Caine. You don’t forget anything.”
“Because you were with Billy.”
The way he said it, the gravelly rasp of his voice had her belly fluttering. Although she’d insisted that he give her space until his divorce was final, Reagan couldn’t seem to fight the overwhelming urge to close the distance between them. And what was another day, anyway? She had waited ten freaking years for this.
“Reagan…”
The way he said her name was a warning, she knew.
She ignored it.
Sliding her hand behind his neck, she urged him down toward her, their eyes locked together until her eyes crossed from his nearness. At that point, she let her eyelids lower and leaned in, pressing her lips to his.
Warm, soft.
And Jesus, he smelled so good. Like laundry detergent and soap.
Lynx didn’t kiss her back. In fact, he didn’t move. She could feel the tension in his entire body.
Pulling back slightly, she forced her eyes open only to find his were closed.
“Why won’t you kiss me?”
“Because I promised,” he whispered as his eyes opened and he focused on her.
She studied him momentarily, allowing her gaze to bounce from his lips to his eyes, then back again.
“But you want to?” She had to ask; she needed to know.
“More than anything,” he rasped.
Holding his gaze for another second, Reagan let that sink in. If he wanted her and she wanted him…
“Fuck that promise,” she murmured before grabbing him roughly and jerking him toward her.
This time Lynx didn’t resist, and the second his mouth was on hers, Reagan’s world lit up like the Fourth of July back in the day when the only thing that mattered was shooting bottle rockets and lighting up the sky, her body buzzing like that one time her brother dared her to stick a fork into the electrical socket in their kitchen.
Quick, powerful. All-consuming.
It was a kiss to rival all, and it only took seconds before she realized she wasn’t in control here. In fact, when it came to Lynx, Reagan was completely out of control.
“Fuck,” Lynx groaned, his arms coming around her, his hands cupping her ass and lifting her off her feet.
Reagan felt nothing except for the warmth of his mouth on hers, the confidence in his tongue as it plunged past her teeth, dueling with hers. She inhaled him, unable to get enough. There was nothing sweet or seductive about this kiss. It was fueled with years’ worth of pent-up desire, the sexual frustration finally finding an outlet.
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she lifted herself with her arms around his neck, trying to get closer, trying to take everything this man was willing to give her.
The rough growl that rumbled in Lynx’s chest had her pussy clenching tightly, the emptiness inside her never more apparent than that moment. He held her so easily, as though she weighed nothing. She liked it, for whatever reason. Lynx Caine made her feel feminine in a way she’d never felt before.
When her back met an unmoving force, Reagan grunted, but didn’t pull away. He’d pushed her up against one of the steel beams holding up the second floor, which ultimately allowed their bodies to press more tightly together. Reagan ground against him, the seam of her jean shorts rubbing deliciously against her throbbing clit, a zing of pleasure slamming through her. She could feel his erection, thick and hard, grinding against her most sensitive spot.
“Christ, Reagan,” he groaned against her mouth. “This is dangerous. You know that, right?”
Oh, she knew. She knew exactly what he was feeling and she was grateful Lynx didn’t pull back. There was a fire burning out of control inside her, and every second that he kissed her, it heated until she was consumed by it.
When his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shorts, Reagan sucked in air and pulled back abruptly. He was touching her, and heaven help her, it felt so damn good. His rough fingers against her skin, searching, seeking.
“Lynx! Oh, fuck… Oh, yes…”
“So fucking wet,” he growled against her neck, his mouth doing delicious things to that sensitive skin while his fingers probed beneath her panties, finding her slick entrance.
Rather than pull away, Reagan tried to move closer although she was pinned between his hard body and the steel beam. “Don’t stop,” she hissed when his fingers stilled. “Please don’t stop.”
“Not sure I can handle it,” he rasped roughly. “Feeling you come on my fingers might do me in, girl.”
The way he said that … girl. There was a sexiness in it, almost like a term of endearment. It made her hotter, wetter.
“Once I start, I won’t stop,” he insisted.
But she needed that. She needed him to make her come. If he didn’t, she was going to spontaneously combust.
“Make me come,” she pleaded.
When he pushed one finger inside her, she moaned long and loud. It was all she could do to not move, her body desperate for the friction that only he could provide right then.
Oh, who was she kidding? It wasn’t the friction she needed, it was him.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Lynx muttered. “I wanna taste you. Wanna feel this sweet pussy on my mouth.”
Opening her eyes, Reagan watched his face. His eyes were so dark, his hunger for her apparent. When he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers, Reagan tightened her grip on him.
“Make me come,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
She could tell he was debating.
In an effort to reassure him, she grabbed his hair, pulling his head back so she could look in his eyes.
“Just this once.”
His body went stone-still, his fingers, while still lodged in her body, no longer moving.
“Not once,” he growled. “If I make you come, Reagan, it’ll be the first of many. I won’t settle for one fucking time.”
Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open as she realized the ferocity behind his declaration.
Could she handle this man and everything he would do to her?
If she’d thought it would only be sexual, Reagan could’ve easily said yes. Her sex drive was intense and she knew she could match this man orgasm for orgasm. However, when it came to her heart…
“Put me down,” she insisted. “Right now.”
Something passed in his eyes, but Lynx didn’t argue. His fingers slipped from her body and the next thing she knew, her boots were on the floor, her chest heaving as she tried to battle back the mixture of frustration and need.
She righted her clothes and met his eyes once more, fully expecting a mischievous smirk, some smartass retort. But that never came and what she saw on Lynx’s face this time…
Looked a hell of a lot like regret.
And her stupid heart squeezed in her chest.