Hard to Handle (Caine Cousins #2)(23)

“I wanna show you somethin’,” he said, nodding toward the far end of the building.

Reluctantly, Reagan followed, doing her damnedest not to pay attention to the play of Lynx’s muscles across his back as he walked. She battled the urge to glance down at his ass or his long legs. She was sure the way the man filled out a pair of jeans was a crime in some countries.

When he stopped suddenly, Reagan plowed right into his back.

“Shit. Sorry.”

He turned around, and Reagan had just enough time to jump back. Of course, she couldn’t do it gracefully. No, she had to stumble, which then had Lynx reaching out, steadying her with a hand on her arm. Her skin heated where he touched her and her breath locked in her chest.

Why was this a good idea again?

“Do I make you nervous?” he asked in that raspy tone of his that made goose bumps form on her arms.

“What?” She rolled her eyes. “No.”

Not that he would believe her since she was suddenly imitating his same raspy tone. Damn it.

When she thought he would pull away, Lynx took a step closer, forcing Reagan to crane her neck to look up at him. Her heart thumped painfully hard against her ribs.

When his hand cupped her face, Reagan had to fight the desire to press against it, to press against him. He was so warm and he smelled so good. She just wanted to lean into him, to press her lips to his, see if they were as soft as she remembered from all those years ago. The memory of the other night assaulted her, the way his mouth had brushed against hers…

“Do you know how fuckin’ long I’ve waited to get my hands on you again?”

His words were a dark, guttural rasp that had her clenching her thighs together.

“Ever since that night,” he continued, “out by the lake. Damn, girl.” His eyes dropped to her mouth, then lifted to her eyes. “I’ve dreamed about you, Reagan.”

She knew she was supposed to pull back, to break the spell he seemed to have on her, but her feet wouldn’t listen. Instead, she continued to stare up into his eyes, and she knew for a fact he could see how much she wanted him. It was hard to deny, especially when they were that close.

Reagan was a fraction of a second from throwing caution to the wind, to taking what she’d wanted for so long. When she leaned in, it seemed as though Lynx did, too. Her heart skipped a beat. Hell, it skipped a whole series of beats.

“God, Reagan…”

She was breathing roughly, her hands trembling. She wanted this man to kiss her, to touch her, to erase the last ten years of her life and put her back on even footing. She’d wanted him for so damn long and now he was here, so close—

“But I made a promise,” he said, pulling away quickly.

It took a second to see he was smiling.

No, wait.

He was laughing.

At her.

“And I fully intend to keep my promise, girl. No matter how much you want me.”

Asshole.





10


__________


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.