Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(93)

She was dripping. For him. And that undeniable fact had him rock hard.

Despite the very real shake working its way through his bones, he had continued to put his own needs on hold.

Until now.

He’d vowed to give Sofie everything she wanted. Mouth dropped open, her cheeks bright pink, her mahogany curls spread around her over the sofa where he laid her out, he thought probably, they were pretty close.

From between her legs, he tilted his hips, he drove into her wetness, watching her eyes squeeze close, feeling her tightness clamp around him—hold him together.

Yet again.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

It was no secret Donovan was a dog when he was younger. There were a lot of forgettable, hazy nights soaked in a lot of booze. When it came to sex, being as physically close as he could get to another person, there had always been distance. Save for Sofie. She didn’t allow distance.

The only distance he’d ever managed with her was the geographical kind. Being over five hundred miles away had been the only way to be away from her.

That night, the dam of emotions had burst, carrying with it a sense of foreboding the moment he slipped inside her sweet, giving body. She had opened for him in every way possible. Tonight was no different. She was relaxed, accessible. This time, it was he who gave and she who took. He allowed himself the privilege to savor every last inch sliding into her warmth.

Her fingers grazed his jaw, her moss green gaze locking on to his.

He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t hide. Couldn’t deny what he saw in her and what he knew she saw reflected in him. As he angled his hips, arranging himself on the sofa too small for them, he stroked her long and slow, taking his time, pulling every drop of passion out of the woman who had once again accepted him into her arms.

She’d accepted him and that was the most beautiful part.

“Donny.”

His old nickname riding on a cracked moan undid him most of all. He thought he had left Donny behind. Though he didn’t want anything to do with the man he used to be, Sofie, in her own way, affirmed who he was. Who I am.

Inside and out, she knew him. And she didn’t deny him.

Straight through.

She moved with him now, arching into a rhythm he matched effortlessly. When she breathed his name a second time, another orgasm rocked her frame and milked his from him. Like drawing a loose string from a sweater, he unraveled, coming inside her, and collapsing to his forearms over her supple body.

He gave her all of him. Every drop she’d given to him, he returned. She’d taken his release and in the process cleansed him of the past that had held him prisoner for far too long.

It took a while for him to come down, a long while where he lay, his face buried in her neck, while her fingers stroked up and down his back, over his shoulders. As his breaths slowed, he kissed her chest and untangled his hands from her hair.

When he pulled out, he did so slowly, earning a soft exhalation as she sighed against his lips. He’d planned on getting them both off this damned uncomfortable couch, to move her to the bedroom or any piece of furniture not a foot and a half too short for his frame, but once he faced her, he froze.

“Better.” She smiled up at him.

He blew out a laugh, but his levity faded as reality set in. The first time he brought her here, he shouldn’t have. He’d known that. But he’d never told her that.

Straight through.

“Seven years ago I was f*cked up,” he blurted.

Her face softened, but she stayed quiet.

So he continued.

“The night I brought you here… my father died earlier that week. Overdose.”

Robert Pate had always drunk a ton, but he started hitting the pills hard after Donovan left home at sixteen. With his punching bag gone, he guessed Robert no longer had a place to dump his anger.

“Gertrude was beside herself. My father was her only child.”

Sofie slid the hair from his eyes, saying nothing. Comforting him. Unable to keep from it, he lowered his face and kissed her. She flattened her hand against his cheek and held his lips against hers for a beat.

So f*cking sweet.

When they parted, he said, “I was done. Done with the whole town, done with this house. I saw where I was headed—knew my life had added up to absolutely nothing. I was going to end up just like him, and I knew it. I was coming here that night to raid the liquor cabinet. Gertrude kept it stocked. I planned on downing a bottle of bourbon or vodka, hell, anything. Then I was going to drive to the quarry and climb a sheet of ice and rock.”

Sofie’s face melted into an expression of concern. “Dangerous.”

“Stupid.”

Her palm slid down his face and came to rest on his neck.

“I saw you watching me from across the bar at the Wharf. Then I decided to do something else with my evening. Decided to give myself a little bit of sweet after a week—a lifetime—of bad. I remember thinking… maybe the way out of pain wasn’t more pain. Maybe if I buried myself in so much pleasure I couldn’t move, I’d be okay.” Moving his fingers into her hair, he cradled her head. “You, Scampi. You were the game changer.”

“The virgin who ruined your plans.”

“You ruined everything.” He gave her a small smile. “And you saved me. Saved me from wandering drunk into the snow.”