Savage Love (Savage Trilogy #3) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,29
for granted that tomorrow would come. And I always intended to come back, but I didn’t and now I know, shit happens. People die, tomorrow is not always guaranteed.
She knows this kiss is different, too. It’s in the way she kisses me back, the way she twists her fingers around my T-shirt. In the way she jerks back, parting our lips, searching my face. In the intensity of her green eyes when they meet mine, the sudden parting of lips, now swollen from my kiss, at what she finds, she orders, “Do not kiss me like this is goodbye, Rick Savage, damn you.”
She tries to dislodge herself from my grip but I hold onto her. “Don’t run.”
She gapes. “Run? Me? I’m not the one who ran.” I physically flinch with those well-deserved words, but she’s not done. “If you want to say goodbye, just say goodbye, Rick.”
“I’m not saying goodbye, Candace.” I catch her hair around my fingers and drag her gaze to my unguarded gaze. I let her see the torment in me. I let her see the guilt. I let her see the dark need in me that isn’t going away like I’m not going away. “This is not goodbye,” I repeat. “This is me making sure that you’re properly kissed, fucked, licked, and loved, the way you deserve to be.”
“It feels like goodbye.”
“No, and one day you’ll trust me enough to know that a dark night doesn’t take us there again. I promise you, you will. Soon.”
“How soon?”
“New York. It’s going to change everything.”
“Can we go now?” she asks hopefully, but we both know we can’t. We both know we have to see tomorrow out.
“I wish we could, baby. I wish we could.”
My mouth slants over hers, my tongue licking deeply, possessively and I make sure every answer she wants is right there in this kiss. I make sure she knows that I’m not fucking living another day without her. She moans into my mouth and when my hands settle on her spine, she arches into me. I rotate her toward the couch, pressing her against the back, my hands finding that soft smooth skin under her T-shirt.
Goosebumps lift on her skin and I tear my mouth from hers. “You have always been exactly what I need.”
“Am I?”
“Oh yes, baby. You are. I felt you even when you weren’t with me. Every day I was away, I felt you. I missed you. I needed the hell out of you.” I catch the hem of her shirt and toss it, my gaze lowering to her breasts, my fingers tracing the swell above the black lace of her bra, then finding her nipple through that lace.
She sucks in a breath and catches my hand. “Rick, I—”
“God, I love when you say my damn name.” My hand goes to her head, my finger catches the clasp of her bra, unhooking it as I lean in close, her nipples puckered between us, our lips a breath apart. “‘Rick, I’ what?”
Her fucking cellphone rings.
I grimace and snatch it from the floor by my foot, where it’s somehow landed. I grimace all over again with the caller ID that reads “Gabriel.” I toss the piece of crap onto the couch.
“Rick,” she hisses urgently. “What if—”
“No,” I snap. “Not now.” I cup her head again and step into her. “Not now.”
“But he—”
I kiss her again but she’s stiff now, unyielding because she’s thinking of him and it pisses me off. That asshole has interfered, yet again. He’s between us, he’s too fucking in between us.
My hand covers her naked breast, teases her nipple. She moans, and her tongue touches mine, and when I should be thinking about that nipple in my mouth, somehow her words come back to me: He wanted me to get pregnant. Or whatever the fuck she said. Close enough. The entire concept of her wearing his ring, her having his baby, drives me wild. That dark edgy feeling I know all too intimately is back, and it’s back with a punch of lust and desire. I’m hot. I’m hard, my cock is pressing against my zipper and her belly.
I reach down and stroke the seam of her jeans, and that’s all the patience I have. I have her zipper down in an instant, and I turn her, pressing her hands to the couch and dragging her pants down her legs. She’s naked in all of a minute and my shirt is on the floor with her clothes. I run my