Hottest Mess (S.I.N. #2)(68)

And honestly, I really don’t want to be thinking any of that.

With a sigh, I grab hold of the steering wheel then close my eyes and rest my forehead on my hands. I want to erase Adele from my thoughts, but that’s not possible. There’s no turning back time. There’s no changing the past. If there was, god knows I would have done it a long time ago.

So I just have to go forward—and it’s Dallas that I want to go forward with.

Which means it’s time to go home.

It’s time to cry in the arms of the man that I love, then let him dry my tears as we move forward, leaving Adele and all the shit behind.

It’s almost one in the morning when I get home. I expect Dallas will still be up, but I’m surprised to find him asleep on the sofa bed, an empty bottle of scotch on the table next to him, along with a mostly empty glass. The television is still tuned to ESPN, the volume low, and the flickering light illuminates his sleeping face.

His clothes are on the floor, and I see his briefs and realize that I’m wet simply from the knowledge that he’s naked under the sheet. I stand for a moment, debating whether I should wake him up to talk, but then he rolls onto his back. I see the way the sheet tents over his erection, and my whole body tightens with desire. I want him, plain and simple. But more than that, I want him to know that I forgive him. That I’m sorry, too.

I also think about the last time that I took advantage of his erection while he was sleeping. My throat still hurts, and he’d been so incredibly freaked out that he’d bolted. If I try again, how will he react? Will he get lost in the nightmare? And if he does, will he wake in time, or will he hurt me? Because god knows he could have gone a lot further the last time.

But I also need him to understand that I still trust him, and what better way is there?

I strip off my clothes, tug down the sheet, and carefully straddle him. Slowly—so wonderfully slowly—I lower myself, relishing the way he fills me and hoping that this time we can take this all the way. I want to see the passion and power when he explodes inside me. And we’ve already gotten so close—so damn close.

My thoughts are as wild as my breath, and I ride him hard—harder than I have before when we’ve done this, and I realize it’s because part of me wants him to wake up. I want to see his face and know that he’s in the now. Right here. With me.

I want to make this work. Dammit, somehow we have to make this work. Sex and life and everything.

I have one hand on his chest and the other on my clit, and I’m stroking myself and his cock, rock hard now and deep inside me. He is filling me completely, and my eyes are so focused on his face that I don’t realize that his hands have moved. They’re no longer at his sides, but now cup my ass, his fingers squeezing me as he works with me, pushing me down onto him harder and harder so that this ride is growing wilder and wilder, and I don’t know if he’s dreaming or awake. I just know that I love the way he’s filling me. Taking me.

And then he opens his eyes and I gasp—He’s awake. Awake and aroused and with me. He’s right there with me, his eyes on mine. His breath coming in time with mine. We’re in perfect sync, his cock inside me, and that knowledge is even more of a turn on than the way his body feels locked with mine.

I see a wicked, triumphant grin spread across his face, but I’m unprepared when he moves suddenly to roll us over so that I’m on my back and he’s on top of me.

He’s still hard, and I shudder with pleasure as he thrusts inside me, again and again, our bodies slapping together in a wild fury that I so want to lead to an explosion. And we’re close—we’re both so deliciously close. I can see it on his face. I can feel it in the tension of his body. Just a little bit longer and—

But it’s no good, and with a raw curse, he pulls out of me, soft now, and rolls onto his side, pulling me along with him, his arm around my waist, my eyes looking into his.

“Dallas.” I don’t know what to say. I want to soothe. I want to celebrate. I’m afraid that he’s disappointed, but he quiets me with a kiss so deep and passionate that it erases all my worries and sends me floating off to a place where there’s only desire and pleasure as Dallas marks a trail of kisses down my neck, between my breasts, and then all the way down my abdomen to my pelvis.

His tongue teases me, and the instant he closes his mouth over my sensitive clit, I explode against him, all of the built-up passion and energy radiating out of me in one vibrant, massive, overwhelming orgasm that he draws out by teasing my clit with his tongue, playing me like a finely tuned instrument from which he is determined to coax a concerto.

Finally, when he has drained me fully, he slides up my body and cups my face with his hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, then kisses my temple and teases my earlobe. “I’m so sorry.”

I brush a kiss over his lips. “Thank you,” I say sincerely. “I’m sorry, too.” I reach for his hand and twine our fingers together as he pulls me even closer and I rest my head in the curve of his shoulder. “We’re stronger together than apart, you know.”

“Because we’re meant to be together, Jane. We’ve known it our whole lives.”

I nod, acknowledging the truth of his words. “But it only works if we are together. Don’t you get that, Dallas? I can’t be with you, if you don’t let me in.”