He slowly shakes his head. “I told you. I don’t know a Greg.”
A horn honks behind us, and we both glance up to see the light turned green. Rhett hits the gas, speeding through the intersection. If he doesn’t watch it, he’s going to get a ticket, and I’m sure that would piss him off even more.
“Just take me home,” I say, crossing my arms. I feel like a pouty child, but clearly he’s not listening to me.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” I turn in my seat to glare at him, but he’s too focused on driving. “What, are you holding me hostage?”
We come to a stop at another light and his gaze meets mine. “If I take you back to Savannah’s, I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.”
Oh. My lips part, but I can’t come up with anything to say.
He knows me better than I thought.
“I can’t risk it.” Rhett looks away, working his jaw. “Just—will you come back to my house? Please? We can talk about this more then. Or we don’t have to talk at all. I just—I can’t chance letting you go, Jensen. I’m afraid you won’t come back to me.”
I want to cry. I want to leave. I want to stay. Too many conflicting thoughts run through my brain, though I already know my answer.
I’m staying.
We don’t speak as we move through the dark, quiet house. I follow him back to his bedroom, turning to watch as Rhett closes and locks the door behind him. He leans against the door, studying me in the near darkness for a moment before he says, “Come here.”
Any other guy would’ve said that to me, and I would’ve told him to suck my nonexistent dick, but for Rhett, I’ll go to him. And when I approach him, he reaches for me, his hands cupping my face so gently, I almost want to cry.
“Do you want to talk?” he asks, his breath wafting across my face. I slowly shake my head and he caresses my cheeks with his thumbs. “Me either.”
Instead he kisses me. Sweetly. A mere brushing of lips that sends a scattering of tingles all over my skin. I tip my head back, part my lips, but he still won’t take it beyond soft, innocent kisses that make me melt and fill me with frustration all at once.
This is so typical of Rhett. My feelings for him aren’t easy. They aren’t black and white. They’re every color of the rainbow, every temperature you can think of. He makes me run hot and cold, angry and sad, mad and happy. He challenges me, he frustrates me, and he makes me want to love him.
Yet I don’t know if I’m capable of that emotion.
He makes me feel like I am, though. His hand drops to my waist and I suck in a breath at first touch of his warm fingers burning through the thin fabric of my dress. I remember earlier in his old bedroom at his dad’s house, before I saw Greg and I felt happy and free. When Rhett stripped me naked, laid me out on his bed and put his mouth on me. How he made me come so easily, then wanted nothing in return.
The need to give back to him overwhelms me, and I break the kiss first, resting my fingers on his belt buckle. “I want you,” I murmur against his lips as I start to undo his belt.
“Jensen…” he starts to protest, but I drop to my knees in front of him, biting my lower lip as I determinedly undo his belt, then his jeans. He’s already hard. I can see his erection straining the front of his boxer briefs, and I glance up to find him watching me.
“You want this.” It’s not a question, because I know he wants me. I drift my fingers across the front of his underwear, making him groan. “Tell me you want it.”
“You know that I want you,” he starts, but h
e stops talking when I yank on his jeans and underwear at the same time, pulling them both down so his cock springs free right in front of my face. I grab hold of the base of him, rising up on my knees a little so my mouth is directly in front of the tip.
“Say it, Rhett. I need to hear you say it.” I release my hold on him so I can whip my dress off, tossing it onto the floor so I’m only in my panties. My nipples are so hard they hurt, and I can feel him staring at me. Staring at my body. He seems entranced with it, like I’m the most beautiful, sexiest woman he’s ever been with, and his reverence makes me feel powerful.
“I want you,” he growls, his hand going to my hair, smoothing it away from the side of my face. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“What do you want me to do?” I almost laugh when he toes off his shoes and shoves his jeans and underwear down to his ankles, kicking them off downright violently. I lean away as he bends over and tears off his socks, his hands going to the front of his shirt so he can undo the buttons as fast as he can. Until he’s standing before me naked, proud and erect and gorgeous, and I’d bet he’s even a little pissed still. The look on his face tells me that.
I’m worried and upset and mad still too. Seeing Greg threw me. Rhett’s reaction to me seeing Greg threw me too.
But I still want Rhett. I want him to want me too.
“You know what I want,” Rhett says, his deep voice breaking through my troubled thoughts.
“I want to hear you say it.” I’m constantly pushing him, but only because he pushes me, and I don’t even think he knows it. He makes me want to be adventurous. He makes me want to experiment. Only with him.