The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos #3)(73)

He felt like a raccoon on ice, his emotions slipping and sliding all over the place.

The black town car pulled up to the gate and buzzed. “Motherf*cker.” Dred fumbled for his phone in an attempt to open it quickly.

By the time the car came to a stop in front of the house, Dred was already outside. He yanked the car door wide open, and Pixie got out. Fuck, she’s lovely. He stepped forward and cupped her face gently. “I missed you,” he whispered, staring intently into her whiskey-colored eyes.

Simply holding her made all the locks inside him click into place. He’d been such a dick to her, and yet here she was, giving him another chance when he didn’t really deserve one.

Pixie stepped up onto his toes, and he shifted his hands to grab her around the waist. And yes, while he wanted to whisk her inside to the warmth of his bed, he was willing to stand and simply stare into her eyes that were telling him a story all their own.

“I missed you, too,” she said softly.

Their lips met, and the feeling was indescribable. A combination of coming home, of being the luckiest man alive, of gratitude, of lust and love.

The driver coughed discreetly, and Dred pulled away from her. “I placed your cases in the hall, Miss.”

“Thank you,” Pixie replied, and Dred was grateful, because the lump in his throat solidly blocked anything he wanted to say.

The limo reversed slightly, then exited through the gates. Dred took her hand and led her inside, through the house, and into his bedroom.

“Let me make this right, Snowflake,” he said driving his hands into her hair. “Let me show you how sorry I am.” He took her lips, and groaned as she welcomed him.

While she looked cute in the black trench, getting her out of it was tougher than removing a straightjacket. Belt. Fucking fiddly little buttons. “Goddamn. I’m buying you a new coat.”

Pixie laughed. “Need some help?” she asked, playfully.

“I got this . . . I think,” he said, finally able to slide the sleeves down her arms.

She was wearing a perfectly fitted black sweater dress over dark tights. Unable to resist, he buried his head in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply. He pushed her hair out of the way and kissed her soft skin. Her fingers slid into his hair and he smiled, knowing full well he’d left it down because she liked it that way.

With a gentle nudge, she fell back on the bed. Quickly, he removed her ankle boots, socks, and leggings. Beneath the sweater dress, he could see she was wearing black lace underwear, and the blood rushed to his cock. Fuck, he wanted to bury his face against her, to taste and smell her, to reassure himself that she really was here. That he wasn’t about to wake up and realize it was a dream. But he remembered the things she’d gone through, and it cheapened all the sexual things he wanted to do to her, explore with her.

Pixie sat up and placed her hands on his cheeks. “And I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Dred placed his hands over hers. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Snowflake.”

“I do. I should have told you, but instead I—”

“No. As I clearly showed, I wouldn’t have listened.” Dred sat back on his knees, and Pixie’s hand slipped away from his face. He reached for one of them and brought it to his lips. “But I promise you, I will always listen to you from here on out.”

Pixie stood and lifted her sweater dress over her head, revealing the sexiest bra and panties he’d ever seen, the sheer and lace panels giving him glimpses of everything he’d missed in the twelve days they’d been apart. He reached up and kissed her along the crease of her thigh. She smelled perfectly f*cking edible. Pixie grabbed fistfuls of his hair again, harder this time, which caused a shiver down his spine. He rubbed his thumb across her clit and heard her gasp.

Quickly, Dred stood, and lifted Pixie into his arms to place her on the bed, laughing at the way she squealed in surprise. God, he wanted her. Wanted her every way known to man and a couple of ways that probably weren’t. But he was unsure. Uncertain how to move forward, yet be respectful of her past.

Within moments, he’d ripped his clothes off and put on a condom from the bedside table. He laid down alongside her and she rolled onto her side to smile at him. From her beautiful purple hair through her colorful tattoos and soft skin to the tips of her purple toenails, he wanted her.

“Rule three, Dred,” she said, running a finger along his jaw. “Don’t look at me like I’m different now. I want you, I want this,” she said grabbing his dick, a move that made him jerk like he’d been struck by lightning. “There may be times when it seems like I don’t, because something we do together is a trigger for me, but never doubt for an instant that I want this with you.”

The tension Dred had been feeling slipped away. They were finally together, their secrets bared. Running his fingertips along her skin, he slipped an arm around her back, popped the clasp of her bra, and dragged it slowly down her arms. Pixie lifted her hips so he could remove her panties. He rubbed a hand across the gentle curve of her hip, across the flat plain of her stomach, into the soft welcome between her thighs where she was already soaked. He slid his finger back and forth, in and out, scissoring them gently and circling her clit while he studied her eyes, saw them go wide.

“Fuck, Pix. You’re so wet for me.”

When she started to rock against his hand, he almost came. The telltale tightening around his fingers warned him she was about to come. He removed his hand and grabbed her leg behind the knee, lifting it high over his thigh before sliding into her. As much as he wanted her to let go, right now he really wanted to go with her.