“The staff’s bathroom’s through there.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder, indicating a closed door behind him. “Near the employee breakroom.”
“Thanks.” Not waiting, I slide my hand down her arm, grasping Lennon’s hand and tugging her to the desk and around it.
I give it five minutes before the news of me dragging her through the lobby of Hunt Auto reaches most of the ears in Pike’s End. This is what I wanted to avoid—becoming the subject of gossips over soda and meatloaf over at Rise ’n Shine Diner.
But I walked away from her once. Nothing could make me do it again while she wore her heart and pain etched into her face. Knowing I was the source of it again.
Fuck the gossip.
This isn’t about me. It’s only about her.
I bypass the bathroom, entering the breakroom instead and closing the door behind us. As soon as the lock engages, she whirls around, and I shift my gaze from her infuriated glare to over her head.
Just for a minute.
Because Jesus… She’s fucking gorgeous.
My fingers itch to sink into those beautiful, thick curls, hold her steady while I desecrate that wide, lush mouth. The knit of her dress pays homage to every curve and dip of her body, molding to her high, firm breasts, the sensual flare of her hips, the thickness of her thighs. And fuck if I can’t feel the heels of her knee-high boots in my lower back.
At twenty I’d barely had the opportunity to explore the searing sexuality and lust that had existed between us before I had to leave. Barely had my fill of that violets and musk scent that was more intoxicating than the best top-shelf alcohol, the fragrance that clung to the base of her neck and in the shadowed, moist valley between her breasts. Denser and richer in that tight, hot pussy.
My stomach aches with hunger for a woman whose particular flavor is still as fresh, as potent to me as it was ten years ago.
“What in the hell are you thinking?” she snapped, then flicks her gaze towards the closed door. She lowers her voice without losing any of the venom. “Do you know what you just did?”
“Yeah.” I drag my gaze from the wall and meet hers. Not daring to glance below her chin. No, fuck that. Her nose. “I stopped you from driving while you were upset. And don’t try lying to me,” I interrupt when her lips part to do just that—lie. “You were upset. Still are.”
“And if I am?” She turns her head away from me. “That isn’t any business of yours. Anything regarding me stopped being your concern a long time ago. You made that decision for both us when you left.”
Yeah, the blow of her words shudders through me, and I lock my muscles absorbing the impact. The clever motherfucker who said the truth hurts clearly possessed the gift of understatement.
“Don’t ask me to see you hurting and walk away, whether it’s my business or not. Don’t ask me to do it.”
“Why not?” She jerks her gaze back to me, and I go solid. “You do it so well. You’re a pro at it.”
I stare at her. At the tautness of the skin over her cheekbones. The darkness in her eyes. The slight tremble of her lips. And that same shiver ripples through her body. She’s a bomb set on emotional detonate, and the masochist that I am, I want all that shrapnel embedded in my skin. I want her to draw my blood.
“Don’t stop now,” I push her like I did last night at the park. “Let it out, baby. You’re right. I left you. Didn’t look back. Didn’t give a fuck.” I lie.
“You don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself. You never did. You used me and then threw me away,” she rasps.
“Yeah, I did. Now what?” I keep shoving at her, even though guilt slides through me like filth. “You want me to apologize? To crawl on my knees and grovel? To beg?”
“Yes.” Her whisper echoes in the room as if she shouted it. “I want to see you hurt, sorry, suffering. Just like when you left me broken. You didn’t give a damn then so don’t pretend you do now. Nothing about you has changed, King. Not one fucking thing. And I hate you for it. I hate you for not once looking back at the wreckage you left behind you. I hate you for going on with life and living it like I never mattered while I had to face reminders and memories of you every time I walked out my front door. I hate you…” Her voice hoarsened, and she crossed her arms over her chest, bowing her head. “I hate you because you gave another woman what you promised me. A family. Gunner could’ve been ours. Should’ve been ours. But you stole one more dream from me.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
It doesn’t occur to menotto touch her.
Eliminating the space between us, I pull her into my arms.
“King, don’t…” Her whisper ends on a sob, and I tighten my hold on her, pressing my lips to her hair.
“No. I can’t. There’s no way in fuck I can let you go right now.” I inhale her, take her so deep into my lungs, her scent burns me, marks me. Rubbing my mouth over her hair, the edge of her ear, I beg, just like she wanted me to. “Let go, Len. Let go and allow me to be the one who carries you through it. Lean on me, baby. Just for a little while.”
Her fists ball into my shirt, stretching the material at my waist. She rolls her forehead against my chest, and her jagged breaths scorch me through my clothes. I slide a hand up her spine, cupping the back of her neck, squeezing it.