“But you’re not?”
“Let my actions speak for me. You’ll have to decide for yourself.”
I like this answer. I like it a lot. It’s the kind of answer my father, who I respect immensely, would give. And I wonder if I will ever know Rick long enough to discover his real self. “I will,” I say, sipping the coffee.
We don’t speak again. We just share the coffee, our hands brushing, our lips touching the same place on the plastic lid, our legs connected, the air charged with our attraction. Once he’s turned onto my street, I direct him to the cute little cottage that is my home and use the clicker on my keychain to lift the garage.
Rick pulls his SUV inside the garage and kills the engine. That’s my trigger. Nerves explode in my stomach. “I, ah—”
He leans in, his hand on my face. “We can talk. We can finish that cup of coffee. We don’t have to do anything else.”
“You came for more than coffee.”
“I could call a half dozen women and get fucked. I didn’t come here to get fucked.”
The bold words shock and thrill me, softening the wall I didn’t realize I’d erected inside me. “Maybe you’re not such an asshole after all,” I whisper.
“I can be,” he admits, those perfect lips curving as he adds, “but I do believe you’ve proven you can swat me into place.”
“Rick,” I whisper.
“No one calls me that. You know that?”
“Savage—”
“No,” he says quickly. “Rick. I like how it sounds when you say it. I like it a hell of a lot.”
Those words hint at that dark torment I’ve sensed in him before now, something he chooses to let me see. Something that makes him human in all the right and wrong ways. My nerves fade into something I can’t even name. Want. Lust. Need. Understanding. I grab the lapel of his jacket and whisper, “Rick,” before I press my lips to his and let him know that I need to be kissed. I need to be kissed by him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Savage
The minute Candace’s tongue touches mine, my resistance is shredded. I kiss her. I kiss the hell out of her, breathing her in, consuming her the many ways she’s consuming me. I went to that coffee bar to get out of my house, to get out my head, and I found her. She moans into my mouth and I reach for the door, opening it, sliding out of my Pathfinder and taking her with me. I turn her and never let her go, molding her close, kicking the door shut.
The coffee goes flying, crashing to the ground. “Oh crap,” she murmurs. “I can make more and—”
I kiss her again because I can’t stop myself. I wanted out of my own head tonight, and she’s that escape. I can feel the push and pull inside me that led me to no place but her. I can feel the dark hunger for more growing inside me. I brush the hair from her face, tilting her gaze to mine, and I hide nothing from her. I let her see every cutting, dark edge that drives me this night. I let her see what is there, let her have the chance to run. “If I go inside right now, I’m not going to stop kissing you.”
“Good,” she whispers.
That’s all I need to hear. I kiss her again, drinking her in, the sweet, delicate taste of her that is still somehow wild; inhaling the floral scent of roses lifting off her skin and her hair. God, I want to be lost in this woman and I want to do to it now. Scooping her up, I carry her toward the door, where I set her down in front of me, facing the door, my hands on her hips as she fumbles with her keys and drops them. I lean down and scoop them up. She turns to face me, and when I straighten, her hands settle on my chest.
“I really don’t do this kind of thing,” she says. “Ever.”
The vulnerability in her, the nerves, jolts me with a shot of reality. I don’t know Candace. I don’t know why I want to know her so damn badly, but I do. And that means this can’t be about my wants and needs, or my shit day and life. Not right now.
“My father wouldn’t approve,” she continues, “and that shouldn’t matter, but—”
I cup her face and bring my lips almost to hers. “We’ll talk,” I say, the words about killing me, my cock all but busting my damn zipper, but I mean them. “Just talk,” I add. “And eat chocolate cake. I told you—”
She presses her lips to mine and I force myself to grab the edge of the door, not her, when it’s her I want to touch. When it’s her I want to feel all sweet and submissive against me. Her I want all over my hands and tongue, her riding my cock. But that’s not all this is or I wouldn’t be here right now, not with Candace, not knowing what she’s going through. And so, I resist what I want, replacing it with what she needs. She’ll tell me, she’ll show me what she needs.