into the sunset feeling good about yourself, or bad about yourself still, or whatever it is you’re trying to do.”
She reached up, grabbing hold of his chin, holding his face steady. “Show me what a selfish bastard you are.”
* * *
SHOW ME WHAT a selfish bastard you are.
Those words ignited something inside of him. Something that he had tried to keep repressed since he had first seen Rebecca. Hell, it was something he’d tried to keep repressed for the last seventeen years.
She was pushing. Because she thought that if she pushed hard enough she would find something good down underneath all that. She was pushing because she thought that she could heal him.
Everything in him rebelled at that thought. She was wrong. And if she wanted him to prove that, then he would.
“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m sure,” she said, her dark eyes burning into his. “Don’t you dare treat me like I’m broken. I’m not broken. I think I’ve proven that.”
She might not be broken now, but maybe she would be broken after this. Maybe they both would be. That thought made his chest tighten up, made him feel like someone had reached inside of him and grabbed hold of his heart.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone goading. “Do I scare you, Gage?” She slid her hands down his chest, her fingernails raking across the thin material of his T-shirt. “You’re such a big, bad man, but I’m the one that scares you.”
He grabbed hold of her wrist, holding her steady, staring her down. He said nothing, taking his other hand and working at his belt, then flicking open the button on his jeans, before tugging the zipper down.
“You want me to be selfish?” he asked. “You want to know what I want? The kind of thing that I fantasize about, that I want only for me? I want you down on your knees in front of me. I want to watch you take me into your pretty mouth before you suck me hard.”
The words hit him hard as iron, even while he felt sick in the pit of his stomach over what this had brought him to. Over what she had brought him to.
Her breath quickened, her breasts rising and falling with the movement, color high in her cheeks.
Tell me to go to hell, he pleaded silently.
If she walked out the door, away from this, away from him, it would give him time to get a hold of himself. To get a grip on his control. Right now, if she stayed, there would be no going back. He couldn’t treat her the way that he wanted to, he couldn’t treat her the way that he needed to.
But she didn’t.
Slowly, Rebecca sank down to her knees in front of him. She leaned forward, her chestnut hair cascading over her face in a glossy curtain, hiding her from him. Then, her delicate fingers found him inside of his underwear, wrapping around his aching cock, squeezing him tight.
Sweet, slick heat consumed him as she flicked the edge of her tongue along the hard ridge of his shaft.
He grabbed hold of her hair, using it as an anchor, pulling it away from her face so that he could watch exactly what she was doing. She looked up at him, a challenge visible deep in those dark eyes.
She tasted him slowly, without skill, moving her tongue from the head of his dick all the way down to the base, then back up again.
“Stop,” he said, the word a hard command.
She did, her gaze watchful, waiting for the next order.
“If this is for me,” he said, “then take your top off. Let me see you.”
He let go of her hair for a moment, waiting for her to make the next move. She rocked back slightly, grabbing hold of her T-shirt and yanking it over her head, then unhooking her bra and sending it flying across the room.
She placed her hands in her lap, sitting in front of him wearing her jeans and nothing else. He was completely transfixed by the sight of her. By her perfectly formed breasts, that beautiful golden skin.
Selfish. She wanted him to be selfish? She wanted him to be terrible? It would never end. It was a well inside of him, deep and yawning, never satisfied because he never allowed himself to replenish it.
Never allowed himself to admit just how much he needed something like this. How much he needed another person.