Hard to Handle (Caine Cousins #2)(7)

She nodded toward the door as she grabbed her truck keys.

“You don’t have to follow me home, you know?” She figured it was a waste of breath, but she told him the same thing she’d told him every night since the first night he’d camped outside her house.

Reagan pulled the door shut and locked it. She could practically feel Lynx behind her.

When she turned to face him, he grinned.

“I don’t have to do anything,” he told her. “I want to.”

Suddenly fueled by a raging case of frustration, Reagan stomped right up to Lynx. “Why?” she asked, trying to keep her tone civil but failing. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

He stared down at her and she felt the full impact of his heated gaze. The desire that swirled there was enough to make her knees weak, but she allowed the anger and irritation to win out.

“Tell me, Lynx. Why?”

“Because I want you,” he professed. “More than my next fucking breath.”

God. Those words said in that raspy tone … they were more than she could handle, and honestly, Reagan felt as though she’d been waiting an eternity for this man. A freaking lifetime.

For years, she’d come up with one excuse after another as to why she had to stay away from Lynx Caine. Her biggest reason being he couldn’t seem to keep his dick in his pants. He was always with a different girl and it pissed her off. And she’d used her crappy relationship with Billy as her armor, as a way to keep Lynx at arm’s length. All the while, she thought of Lynx endlessly.

And here he was saying things she’d always wanted him to say. It made her want to jump him, to knock him to the gravel and straddle him, right here beneath the moon.

Rather than give in to that urge, Reagan spun on her boot heel and stomped toward her truck. She could hear Lynx behind her and she balled her hands into fists. The man didn’t know when to stop. The worst part was, if he didn’t, Reagan feared she was going to do something she would likely regret for the rest of her life.

Like give in.





3


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Lynx knew it would be in his best interest to let Reagan go, but he couldn’t seem to listen to reason. Not from her and not from himself.

He’d waited ten fucking years to get his hands on her again.

Ten years.

Since the first damn time he’d kissed her. Back when he’d been a heartbroken eighteen-year-old. And she’d been … sixteen fucking years old.

A fucking decade.

That was one hell of a prison sentence, and now that she’d shed the ball and chain, there was nothing stopping him.

Well, nothing except her.

If he’d thought for one second that the banked fury in her gaze was anything more than repressed desire, he probably would’ve stepped back, let her climb in her truck, drive off into the night.

But he knew better.

This thing between them was a summer storm gathering strength across the open plains. And there was no running from it. Not anymore.

Stopping her with one hand on her shoulder, he said her name as softly, as calmly as he could. What he wanted to do was spin her around and crush his mouth to hers. He wanted to strip her naked, press her up against the side of that truck, and bury his dick inside that sweet pussy. Then he wanted to remain there for the rest of his fucking life.

But he couldn’t do that.

Not until she gave him the green light.

When she turned back to face him, Lynx closed the distance between them and cupped her face in his hands.

Damn, she was so fucking soft. Just like he remembered.

He swallowed hard, watching her. He saw the way her eyes darted to his mouth, the way her tongue swiped over her lower lip, even the way her eyelids lowered as he leaned in closer. She was his greatest temptation. Always had been. Yet he’d managed to never cross that line. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d succeeded because a country boy did not mess with another man’s girl. That was the bro code. An honorable man didn’t break it.

And despite the fact that Reagan and Billy had mixed about as well as oil and water, Lynx had held his ground, staying out of the way.

But now…

“Reagan,” he whispered as his lips hovered over hers. “I’m so tired of fightin’ this.”

That little hitch in her breath was nearly his undoing, but Lynx waited, wanting her to give him some sort of sign. As desperate as he was for her, he knew he couldn’t simply take because he wanted to. She had to be on board or he’d lose the war before the first battle started.

“Don’t fight this,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers.

He could practically taste her and it was killing him to hold back. He wanted to eliminate the few centimeters between them and devour her, to slide his tongue over her lips, past her teeth, into the sweet cavern of her mouth. But he needed more than that. He needed this woman to give him everything, because he wasn’t going to settle for anything less. Not where she was concerned.

“I can’t,” she finally said, her tone firm. Those two words caused her lips to brush against his, and he inhaled sharply, his cock throbbing painfully against his zipper, every muscle in his body tense.

He swallowed again, and with an internal sigh, Lynx forced himself to pull back, to stand to his full height.

“Like I told you earlier,” she stated, her voice firm, serious. “Keep your dick in your pants and come find me when your divorce is final. Maybe then…”