3
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Lynx knew it would be in his best interest to let Reagan go, but he couldn’t seem to listen to reason. Not from her and not from himself.
He’d waited ten fucking years to get his hands on her again.
Ten years.
Since the first damn time he’d kissed her. Back when he’d been a heartbroken eighteen-year-old. And she’d been … sixteen fucking years old.
A fucking decade.
That was one hell of a prison sentence, and now that she’d shed the ball and chain, there was nothing stopping him.
Well, nothing except her.
If he’d thought for one second that the banked fury in her gaze was anything more than repressed desire, he probably would’ve stepped back, let her climb in her truck, drive off into the night.
But he knew better.
This thing between them was a summer storm gathering strength across the open plains. And there was no running from it. Not anymore.
Stopping her with one hand on her shoulder, he said her name as softly, as calmly as he could. What he wanted to do was spin her around and crush his mouth to hers. He wanted to strip her naked, press her up against the side of that truck, and bury his dick inside that sweet pussy. Then he wanted to remain there for the rest of his fucking life.
But he couldn’t do that.
Not until she gave him the green light.
When she turned back to face him, Lynx closed the distance between them and cupped her face in his hands.
Damn, she was so fucking soft. Just like he remembered.
He swallowed hard, watching her. He saw the way her eyes darted to his mouth, the way her tongue swiped over her lower lip, even the way her eyelids lowered as he leaned in closer. She was his greatest temptation. Always had been. Yet he’d managed to never cross that line. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d succeeded because a country boy did not mess with another man’s girl. That was the bro code. An honorable man didn’t break it.
And despite the fact that Reagan and Billy had mixed about as well as oil and water, Lynx had held his ground, staying out of the way.
But now…
“Reagan,” he whispered as his lips hovered over hers. “I’m so tired of fightin’ this.”
That little hitch in her breath was nearly his undoing, but Lynx waited, wanting her to give him some sort of sign. As desperate as he was for her, he knew he couldn’t simply take because he wanted to. She had to be on board or he’d lose the war before the first battle started.
“Don’t fight this,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers.
He could practically taste her and it was killing him to hold back. He wanted to eliminate the few centimeters between them and devour her, to slide his tongue over her lips, past her teeth, into the sweet cavern of her mouth. But he needed more than that. He needed this woman to give him everything, because he wasn’t going to settle for anything less. Not where she was concerned.
“I can’t,” she finally said, her tone firm. Those two words caused her lips to brush against his, and he inhaled sharply, his cock throbbing painfully against his zipper, every muscle in his body tense.
He swallowed again, and with an internal sigh, Lynx forced himself to pull back, to stand to his full height.
“Like I told you earlier,” she stated, her voice firm, serious. “Keep your dick in your pants and come find me when your divorce is final. Maybe then…”
She let the sentence hang between them, and Lynx filled in the blanks with a million different thoughts.
Maybe then … he’d have her naked beneath him.
Maybe then … he’d get to taste every inch of her.
Maybe then … he’d slide his cock into the warm, wet recesses of her body and drive them both out of their minds.
Maybe then … he’d wake up with her in his arms.
Maybe then…
“Until then, I’d appreciate if you’d give me some space, Lynx.” Her eyes were sincere. “I need you to give me some space.”
Lynx knew when to concede and now was definitely the time. The woman was giving him hope. Whether or not she intended to honor that, he couldn’t say, but he could hold out until then.
After all, what was ten more days? Little did she know, but his divorce would be final in ten days. Sure, it seemed like an eternity to him, but he knew it wasn’t.
Lynx stepped back and allowed Reagan to get into her truck, the door making a godawful creaking sound when she closed it. She watched him the entire time and he knew she was battling the same desires he was. If she would simply give in…
Then again, maybe this was what they both needed. It gave him an idea.
“Hey,” he called out as he tapped on her window.
He waited as it lowered.
“What?”
“Meet me at the diner for breakfast tomorrow?”
She frowned.
“Come on, girl. You gotta eat.”
Reagan huffed. “Not gonna happen, Lynx.”
“It was worth a shot,” he said with a smirk.
He knew it would take time, but the woman would eventually give in. He understood that he needed to prove himself and he would. Easy fucking peasy.
“’Night, Lynx.”
Lynx tipped his hat as she rolled up the window. He watched as she backed out of her spot, then he headed over to his truck.
Half an hour later, Lynx was pulling out of his driveway with Copenhagen riding shotgun.
“Sorry, buddy,” he told his dog. “Looks like another night in the truck.”
Until someone proved to him that Reagan wasn’t in potential danger from that crazy bastard after Amy, Lynx was going to sleep in front of her house. He didn’t give a shit how long it took. She might not want to give him the time of day right now, but Lynx wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.
So what if he had to deal with a crick in his neck in the morning.
As far as he was concerned, Reagan was fucking worth it.
Reagan knew Lynx was out there.
She’d heard his truck when he pulled up last night.
It should’ve given her the peace of mind to allow sleep to take her.
Unfortunately, she’d slept for shit, dreaming about the man. And they certainly hadn’t been bad dreams, although she was starting to question her sanity.
Why? Why the hell did Lynx have to be so nice?
Even after she had turned him down, he was still parked out in front of her house keeping an eye on things the way he had for the past few weeks. She couldn’t even imagine Billy doing something like that. Shit, Billy would’ve probably kept his distance, not wanting to put himself in harm’s way.
“Such an asshole,” she muttered to herself, tossing the blanket off.
It was hot. And it had little to do with the mediocre air conditioning and everything to do with that damn dream.
It wasn’t different than a lot of her fantasies in previous years. All involving the sexy bad boy who she should’ve been keeping a serious distance from. For chrissakes, the guy was married.
And okay, fine. He was only married at this point on paper. The legal process was working its magic, and sometime in the near future he would be officially divorced. At that point, Reagan wasn’t sure what excuse she was going to use, but she knew she had to come up with something.
Peering over at her nightstand, she was tempted to pull out her vibrator. It would certainly take the edge off as she’d learned over the years. She had started with the self-pleasure a long time ago, so it wasn’t like it was anything new. Having been with a man who had been focused only on himself, Reagan had gotten used to it.
She briefly wondered if sex with Lynx would be that way. Would she have to resort to getting herself off after?
For whatever reason, she was shaking her head.
No, she didn’t think Lynx was a selfish lover. No way would women be falling all over themselves to be with him if he was. And they were. To the point it was almost embarrassing. So much so that the guy had to be some sort of freak in bed to keep them coming back for more although he was ready to move on after one night. Or so she’d heard.
The sound of a truck engine turning over had her jerking her attention toward the window.
He was leaving.
Reagan glanced at the clock.
It was only six twenty in the morning. What the hell was she doing awake?
When the drone of the engine faded away, Reagan reached for her vibrator.
Why the hell not?
No way was she going to give in to Lynx, so she might as well satisfy her own needs. Even if the man was off-limits, the fantasies of him weren’t.
Settling back on the bed, Reagan closed her eyes and drew up the mental image of Lynx. The one she always resorted to during times like this. He was shirtless in her mind, walking into her bedroom after having been outside, his chest glistening with sweat, her eyes drawn to all those tattoos.
God, he was sexy.
Before she knew it, she had the vibrator turned on low, the blunt tip pressed to her clit, working her up slowly.
Reagan imagined Lynx turning to her, his heated stare practically undressing her where she lay. She imagined his eyes trailing down to where her hand was tucked beneath her panties. He was watching her as she let the vibration roll over her clit, driving her higher and higher. Then she imagined it was his tongue on her, his mouth driving her closer to the edge.
“Oh, shit!” she cried out, her orgasm slamming into her unexpectedly.
She rode it out, until she was too sensitive for the vibration. At that point, she tossed the damn toy to the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Although the relief was instant, she knew it would never be enough to keep her thoughts from drifting to that man.
And one of these days, she was going to give in.
Which would leave her where?
As another notch in Lynx Caine’s bedpost?
Forcing herself to sit up, Reagan sighed. “Yeah. No fuckin’ thank you.”