Hard to Handle (Caine Cousins #2)(50)

Reagan shook her head. “I don’t have a clue where this is goin’.”

Lynx took a step toward her. “I have spent… Goddamn! For ten fuckin’ years, Reagan … I have wanted you. And then when you turned eighteen … I’ve spent the past eight years waitin’ for you.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve got a funny way of waitin’. Fuckin’ every woman who crosses your path.”

“They were never you,” he growled, coming to stand directly in front of her. “No matter how fuckin’ hard I tried to get you outta my head, it never fuckin’ worked. And yes, damn it, I fuckin’ tried. Do you understand what I’m sayin’?”

She didn’t speak.

Lynx took a breath, tried to get a handle on his temper. When he felt as though his head wouldn’t explode, he caught her gaze with his.

“So, yeah,” he continued, taking a deep breath, “hold it against me for as long as you want. I fuckin’ deserve it. But it doesn’t change a thing. I can’t go back and do things differently, darlin’. Trust me. If I could, I would.”

“What would you change?” Her tone was softer now, her eyes imploring his.

Lynx touched her face, tilting her head back with his thumb. “For starters, I would’ve told you that first time you broke up with that dickhead.”

“Told me what?”

Although the words hung on the tip of his tongue, Lynx couldn’t say them. If he did, he’d never get them back, and he knew Reagan wouldn’t believe him if he told her. Loving her was something he’d done all this time without anyone knowing. And the first time he told her, it damn sure wouldn’t be when they were fighting.

So he said, “That I want you. That I’ve dreamt about gettin’ my hands on you, about pullin’ you beneath me.” He moved closer, lowered his voice. “Slidin’ deep inside you.”

Lynx could feel her rapid breaths against his mouth.

“Fuckin’ you until neither of us knows our own names. That’s what I wanted, Reagan.”

“Past tense?” she whispered.

“Not by a long shot.”

She blinked, her eyes still locked with his. “Then what’re you waitin’ for?”

And that was the moment she pushed him right over the edge, his breaking point now nothing more than a memory.



It was a dare.

Of all the people in the world, Lynx Caine was not the man to dare, because as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Reagan saw the shift in his eyes, knew he was about to unleash on her.

The soft rumble in his chest was drowned out by the pounding of her heart when Lynx crushed his mouth to hers, jerking her to him. And when he lifted her off her feet, Reagan wrapped around him and held on tight, legs around his waist, arms around his neck. And still she wasn’t close enough.

She heard the loud click of the tailgate releasing, then found her butt planted on the edge, Lynx standing between her legs, his arm banded around her as his mouth did crazy wicked things to hers. God, he could kiss. Lynx knew just how to coax her mouth open, just how to work her into a frenzy with the devilish flick of his tongue.

“This what you want?” he growled. “You want me to take you right here?”

Reagan figured why the hell not. After all, this was where it had started all those years ago. Why wouldn’t it be where they picked things back up?

When he pulled back and met her eyes, Reagan didn’t even debate on her answer. Instead, she slid her hands beneath his T-shirt and pushed it up, eager to get him out of it. Lynx grabbed a handful and yanked it over his head, tossing it into the truck behind her.

Then she was staring at all those tattoos on his chest, the beautiful designs that decorated so much of him. She’d always loved those tattoos. Even back when they were nothing more than random designs. Over the years, they’d filled in, merged together until it required effort to make out the smaller ones from his teenage years.

The man was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen in her life.

Running her hands over the smooth ridges of his stomach, she continued upward, leaning forward and pressing her mouth to his skin. When he growled roughly, her pussy clenched. She didn’t stop touching or kissing him until he had her shirt up. She only paused so he could remove it because she wanted to feel his skin against hers and she was tired of waiting. It didn’t matter that they were outside, that it was probably close to ninety degrees in the shade, that she was sitting in the bed of his truck, or even that someone could wander up at any moment.

None of it mattered because she finally had Lynx all to herself.

Her bra was the next article of clothing to go while she tugged at the button on his jeans.

“Oh, God,” she moaned, pulling her mouth from his when his rough hands cupped her bare breasts.

Her eyes shot to his hands, but the tattoos there didn’t register. No, she was watching the way he cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples with his thumbs and forefingers, his callused hands abrading her skin in the most sensual way. The various sensations swirled together, escalating into something she’d never felt, an erotic bliss that had her wondering if she would implode.

“Fuck,” he hissed, lifting one sensitive peak to his mouth.

Reagan watched as he pulled the hardened point between his lips, his teeth scraping gently before he sucked her fully into his mouth. She clutched the back of his head, holding him to her while he alternated to her other nipple, driving her out of her mind with his lips and tongue. She’d imagined this, but never had she thought it would be this good.