Filthy English (English #2) - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,75

me,” I rasped out.

Her hooded eyes fluttered open, a different kind of fire burning there now.

While I stared at her, my hand replaced my tongue, settling into her wetness. Slow. Gentle. “This. This is where I want to be right now.”

She swiveled her hips, working herself on my fingers.

“You want more?” I asked. “Harder?”

She nodded, putting her hand on top of mine and pushing.

I hissed, giving her what she wanted. “This is the real you, Remi. Hot. Ready. Needing me to make you come. Have you ever had this before? Have you?”

“No,” she moaned, her chest rising rapidly.

“Good answer.” I stood and kissed her, our tongues caressing each other. With my other hand, I tugged my shirt off over my head and threw it down with her dress.

“I need you,” she whispered, rubbing her hand across my chest and down to my hips. “Take me.”

“Say my name.” I closed my eyes at the need in her voice and stroked her center again, my thumb brushing her bud.

She shuddered. “Dax, you. Always you. Forever you.”

I bent my forehead against the wall, all the air sucked out of me at her words.

She pulled my hair back until our faces were level. “What am I going to do? I can’t stop how I feel about you.”

We stared into each other’s eyes, deep into our past.

I’d been a failure the first time we’d met. What did I have now that she’d want?

Or need?

I did the only thing I knew I was good at. I touched her, owning her, pumping until her mouth opened and she writhed, her back arching as she cried out.

“Yes, love, yes,” I whispered against her mouth.

She came undone, her muscles clamping down, her gasps like music, and I didn’t miss a minute of it, imprinting her image in my brain.

Her eyes glossed over as she whispered my name. Once. Twice. Three times.

Slightly dazed, she rested against the wall.

Sliding my shirt back on, I picked up her dress and helped her step inside it. I zipped her up, my hands lingering on her shoulders. Aching. Still needing something and it wasn’t just to get off.

She brushed her hair in the mirror while I did mine in the other mirror.

With shaking hands, she found her purse on the floor, opened it, and pulled out her lipstick. I watched her rub it on, eyes glassy.

She turned to me, a dead look in her eyes. “We can’t do this again. I can’t handle the pain that comes afterwards.”

“I know.”

Her eyes watered. Fuck. I couldn’t be what she wanted!

I reached in my pocket and pulled out the box, gently easing out the bracelet. She gasped as she cupped it in her hands and then looked up at me.

“How . . . When?”

I kept silent as I wrapped it around her wrist and fixed the clasp.

I swiped at one of her tears.

She grabbed my hand. Kissed it.

“Go,” I whispered.

I closed my eyes and counted to five. When I opened them, she was gone.

KNOWING THAT HE was going to be with Alexandria, knowing that he wanted me but didn’t, made me want to crawl in a corner and weep, but my head wouldn’t allow it.

Use pain to make yourself stronger.

Use heartbreak to make yourself wiser.

With that mantra, I made my way around the bar and forced myself to talk to a few people I hadn’t seen all summer. There were questions about Hartford and me, but I fielded them by changing the topic or moving on when I saw someone else.

Dax eventually emerged from the hallway, his face a block of ice.

His eyes met mine and quickly bounced off. I watched him weave his way through the crowd, his head above most of the people there. He got within a few feet of me, paused for a moment as if debating, and then marched over to the pool tables in the back. He curled an arm around Alexandria as she was about to shoot with her cue stick, surprising her and making her squeal. She turned and giggled as he leaned over to show her a better way to shoot.

My body stiffened when his eyes flicked over to me. Watching.

Lulu came up to me. Her eyes flicked down to the tequila I’d ordered on a spur-of-the-moment decision. “Uh, we both know you shouldn’t be drinking that.”

“Yet, here I am,” I said dryly. “Torturing myself. In more ways than one apparently. Good thing the bar doesn’t sell tacos.”

“Dax?”

I nodded, my eyes darting back to the couple in the