Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)(57)

Folding her arms around my neck, she used it as leverage to take the kiss even deeper. Slowly, her hand slid down my chest and into my jacket before gliding around to my back.

She tugged the back of my shirt up until it untucked.

I chuckled as she slid her hands into my pants. Then I groaned as her nails bit into my ass. Cursing into her mouth, I ground my hard cock between her legs.

She gasped then circled her hips for more.

“This is exactly why you should have worn a dress,” I said, finding the seam of her jeans and tracing it up and down.

She threw her head back, and her long, brown hair teased my hand at the small of her back.

“Give me this woman tonight.” My fingers continued to play as I spoke against her lips. “We’ll talk. Figure this shit out. But don’t go into this closed off from me. Give me a chance.” I wrapped the length of her hair around my fist and tugged her head back to catch my gaze. I dragged my tongue over her parted lips then finished. “Give us a chance.”

“Okay,” she panted.

I smiled triumphantly before abruptly stepping out of her reach. “Go put on a dress.”

She blinked at me through sex-fogged eyes. It took everything I had in me not to rip her jeans and f*ck her right there on the kitchen counter.

But, as hard as it was for me to remember, I needed to get her on the same page more than I needed to be balls-deep inside her.

Fucking her then would have only been a short-term answer.

Fucking her for the rest of my life was the long-term goal.

“That was mean,” she whined, jumping off the counter and starting out of the room.

I caught her around the waist and pulled her against my chest. “No. Mean would be if I didn’t have plans to make you come on my mouth when we get home.” I kissed her chastely and gave her ass a squeeze. “Go get dressed. We’re gonna be late.”

Her lips lifted in a mischievous grin. “I’ll be quick.”

I watched her saunter away. Concerns that perhaps I was turning into an ass guy passed through my head, and then…

All.

Thoughts.

Were.

Gone.

Liv paused just outside her bedroom door and peeled her sweater over her head. Calling over her shoulder, she said, “I guess this would only be mean if I didn’t have plans to show you the front tonight.”

Son of a bitch!

But…score for tonight!

I fought the urge to throw my hands in the air in victory.

I failed.





OPEN MIND.

No guilt.

It’s not a competition.

Of course I can trust him.

We can do this.

That was my mantra as I walked out of our apartment on Quarry’s arm.

I had replaced the jeans with a modern, red dress with half sleeves and a notched hem. It hugged my every curve like a glove, but the high, rounded neckline kept it classy for whatever five-star restaurant Quarry was planning to take me to. My long hair had been pinned into a loose side-bun? and diamond stud earrings kept the whole look simple yet dazzling.

Open mind.

No guilt.

It’s not a competition.

Of course I can trust him.

We can do this.

“You look incredible,” Quarry told me.

I felt like an imposter.

My clothes. My skin. My heart. Walking out on his arm.

That all fit perfectly.

On a date with him? After having slept with him? After having admitted that I had been in love with him for my entire life? Wrong. So f*cking wrong.

I swallowed hard and willed my heart to slow. “Thanks.” I peeked up and found him watching me with every step. My cheeks heated when his smile turned to his signature smolder.

“You excited for the best date of your life?”

“I’m on pins and needles,” I teased.

He barked a laugh and then stopped in front of…Till’s beat-up truck?

“Your brother’s here?” I asked looking around the parking lot.

“Nope,” he answered, running his hand over the rusted-out hood.

Till’s truck was a hunk of shit junkyards probably wouldn’t even allow on the premises. He had other cars and more than enough money to restore it to all of its budget luxury of its heyday, but with the exception of keeping it running, Till hadn’t fixed anything on it. I suspected that it had sentimental value to him. What I didn’t understand was why it was parked in front of our apartment.

Quarry answered my unspoken question when he pulled open the passenger’s side door for me. “Hop in.” He smiled.

“What’s wrong with your cars?” I asked, thoroughly perplexed.

Quarry was a car whore. He paid thousands of dollars each month to rent out four of the small garages our apartment complex offered to store his collection of sports cars. I never knew what was hiding behind those garage doors because it seemed the cars were always different. He rotated through them, trading them in whenever a newer or a nicer one came out.

“Nothing. I borrowed this from Till special for tonight.”

I scrunched my nose in displeasure, which only made him laugh.

“Get in, Rocky. We can’t be late.”

“Valet is going to love this,” I smarted, sliding into the open door.

Quarry twirled the keys around his finger as he circled the front of the truck. With an unbelievably loud creak, the driver’s side door opened, and he slid behind the wheel.