Hard to Handle (Caine Cousins #2)(55)

Shaking his head, Lynx grinned.

His cousin was a pain in his ass, that was for damn sure.

But for right now, he could forgive him.



Reagan woke in Lynx’s bed for the second time, but this time was vastly different than the first. For one, Copenhagen wasn’t the one greeting her. And two, it wasn’t the morning after her bar blew up.

Nope. This time she awoke to a warm, solid man lying by her side.

“Evenin’,” Lynx greeted in that dark, raspy baritone that made her skin tingle and her insides glow.

“What time is it?”

“Six thirty.”

Reagan closed her eyes again and sighed. She shifted closer to Lynx, and she felt the unfamiliar twinge of her muscles. It brought back memories of what they’d done earlier. What she wanted them to do again.

“Anything happen while I was asleep?” she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

“Wolfe called to give me shit,” he said, amusement in his voice.

“Yeah?” Turning, Reagan peered up at him.

“Yeah.”

“So, it’s safe to say he knows I’m here?”

“He does.”

“Which means my brother probably knows I’m here.”

Lynx frowned, which made Reagan laugh.

“Are you scared of Rhys?”

A snort came from the sexy man beside her.

Reagan chuckled, her body warming. “Oh, wait. Lynx Caine isn’t afraid of anyone.”

He shifted, the movement forcing her onto her back. “Oh, I’m scared of someone.”

“Yeah? Who?”

“You.”

His mouth lowered to hers in a sweet, gentle kiss. “Is that right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why’s that?”

His eyes met hers and Reagan could tell he was contemplating saying something, but she had no idea what. However, nothing came out, but a seductive smirk tilted his lips.

Damn, the man had perfect lips.

In fact, he had perfect everything. Lips, eyes, hair, body. And his tongue. She wouldn’t even get started about that wicked tongue that had done delicious things to her.

Reagan’s hand slid down his stomach, over the ridges of his abs, then lower.

“What’re you doin’, girl?” he asked, grinning at her from above.

“Who me?” she teased as her hand closed around his cock.

He had a perfect cock, too. Long, thick, and oh so hard right now.

Lynx’s eyes closed momentarily and he groaned low in his throat. It was a sexy sound, one Reagan could listen to every day of her life and never tire of.

When he rolled onto his back, Reagan continued to stroke him, watching the movement as she did. Peering up at Lynx’s face, she watched him as he watched the action, too.

“Love that,” he whispered. “So fucking much.”

“Yeah?”

Reagan didn’t stop stroking him, certainly not when he covered her hand with his and assisted her movement, tightening her grip around his steely length. She pressed her lips to his chest, right over the tattoo that inked over his heart. It was a flower. A lily, in fact, which made sense. His mother’s name was Lily. The script below read: Forever with me. Always in my heart.

As she continued to visually feast on his beauty, Reagan noted the various other tattoos. There were so many, some of them hard to make out, but her eyes locked on one that was inked down his side.

Her gaze darted up to Lynx’s face and she saw that he was watching her. She couldn’t seem to look away, her heart in her throat, even as she continued to stroke him slowly, leisurely.

“When?” she whispered, her heart in her throat, tears burning behind her eyes.

He gave one of his famous one-shoulder shrugs. “Years ago.”

Reagan’s attention shifted back to the tattoo. The one of her name in beautiful script. And right then, her heart burst open in her chest, warmth unlike anything she’d ever known infusing her.

This man…

This beautiful, imperfectly perfect man had her name tattooed on his body.

She knew, right at that moment, that Lynx Caine was it for her. No matter what she tried to tell herself, this man was who she wanted. Who she’d wanted since she was a na?ve teenager.

Accepting that was the easy part.

The hard part was figuring out what that meant.

For her.

For him.

For them.





23


__________


Lynx was holding his breath.

Not only because Reagan’s soft, warm hand was gliding up and down his rigid erection, either.

No, he was holding his breath because the woman had just located the tattoo of her name on his body. He’d gotten it years ago. And it hadn’t been an accident.

In fact, none of his tattoos had been an accident. He hadn’t gotten any of them during a drunken bender. He’d been sober and lucid for every single one, drawing most of them out himself beforehand. Many of them inked directly from his sketches. All of them having meaning to him in some way.

His breath locked deeper inside him when Reagan leaned forward and kissed his chest, her little tongue gliding over his skin. It was an erotic sight, one he’d fantasized about plenty of times over the years.

When her head continued to move south, his stomach muscles tightened. As she traced the muscles that arrowed down between his legs, he finally sucked air into his lungs. But the moment those sweet lips wrapped around the head of his cock, Lynx’s entire body jerked from the heat of her mouth.