Play with Me (With Me in Seattle, #3)(58)

“Look at me.”

I stay where I am.

“Look at me, Megan.”

“Will, you betrayed me.”

“I did not f*cking betray you!” He yells, and I whirl to look at him. His eyes are feral now, and his hands are in fists at his sides, every muscle taut with anger and frustration. “I paid off a woman who hates you for existing so she’ll never bother you again. She signed a contract, Megan. She can never ask you for another dime.”

“What?”

“Let me finish. That woman is the reason you can’t tell me you love me. That. Fucking. Woman.” He shakes his head in frustration and turns away from me, then turns back. “If I have the opportunity to remove her from you, why wouldn’t I do it? The money is nothing to me. She is the reason you have trust issues. She is the reason it’s so hard for you to show people you love them.”

“What are you now, a shrink?” I ask with a smirk, and then hate myself for it when I see the hurt in his eyes.

“I know you,” he murmurs quietly. His chest is heaving. “I love you, Megan.”

I love you too.

I can’t make the words come out.

“I love you, Megan.” The words are stronger now, louder, and he’s willing me to say them back.

I turn and start to blindly walk again, my steps quick, away from him, from his car, from all these f*cked up feelings that I just don’t know how to trust.

Suddenly I’m in his arms, and he’s carrying me back to the car. He sets me down, ass on the hood and pins me, his hands on the hood at my hips, his face level with mine, nose millimeters from brushing the tip of mine, his eyes on fire. He’s glaring at me with love and hurt.

“I. Love. You. Megan.”

“Will.” It’s a sob. I take his face in my hands and brush his cheeks with my thumbs. “Will.”

“I love you,” he whispers, his lips so close to touching mine I can feel them move. I close my eyes and feel the tears on my face. I can feel the hot tears on his face, running into my hands, mixing with the warm rain.

I’m hurting him. And it’s killing me.

“You can’t say it.” It’s not a question.

“I can show you,” I whisper.

He closes his eyes for a heartbeat, tips his forehead down to mine, and then suddenly grips my hips and pulls me to the side of the hood of the car and peels my sopping wet jeans roughly over my hips and down my legs, throwing them on the ground in a wet heap. My eyes are wide and on his, mouth gaping open.

“Someone could drive by.”

“I don’t give a f*ck,” he growls and sinks to his knees, pushing my thighs apart and burying his face in my core. He licks and kisses and sucks on my lips, my clit, pushes my metal against my nub, making me plant my feet on his shoulders, grip his soaked hair in my hands and lift my hips off the car, coming apart at the seams, crying out, not caring who can see or hear us.

He stands and shoves two fingers inside me roughly, pushing and pulling them quickly, teasing my clit with his thumb, and he’s kissing me in the same way, with frustration and anger and I grip onto his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

“Will.”

“You are mine, damn it. I will protect you from anyone and anything, do you understand?” His eyes are narrowed, on mine. “I don’t need your permission to make you safe.”

Before I can answer, he’s kissing me again, and pushing me over into another orgasm.

He’s claiming me, branding me in a way he never has before.

It’s f*cking hot as hell, and I want him. I want to be his. I love him more than I ever thought possible, and that scares the living hell out of me.

He pushes the hem of my jersey up under my armpits, dragging my bra along with it, unveiling my breasts and feasts on them, pulling and biting the nipples roughly. I let my head fall back and cry out in pain and pleasure, loving his mouth and hands as they assault me.

He’s never been this rough.

Suddenly, he unzips his pants and unleashes his massive erection and I instinctively scoot even closer to the edge of the car, needing him inside me.

“I can’t wait,” he mutters against my mouth and slams himself inside me, hard. He grips my hips and jerks me down on him, over and over, f*cking me with all he has, his eyes still pinned to mine.

“You are so beautiful. You are everything, Megan. When are you going to believe that?” He moves faster and harder until I feel him explode inside me, his muscles tensing, and growling deep into my neck.

He stays here, on me, in me, panting, for what feels like forever, before he slides out of me, and steps back. “Stay here.”

He zips himself up, straightens my shirt, and scoops my pants up off the ground, walking briskly to the back of the car. He rummages around in the trunk and walks back to me, a blanket in his hands. “Scoot off the car.”

I obey immediately, and he wraps me in the blanket, plants a soft, sweet kiss on my forehead, and suddenly the tears start again.

I love him so much.

“Don’t cry.” He lifts me in his arms and carries me over to the passenger side, and gently lowers me down into the low seat.

Instead of taking me back to my place, he drives us to his house, pulls into the garage, and lifts me back out of the car, carries me inside, and up the stairs through his bedroom and into the bathroom. He sets me carefully on the toilet and turns on the hot water, then kneels in front of me, takes my face gently in his hands and wipes the tears off my cheeks with his thumbs.