No, she was more than pissed off. Rage shook her, rage powerful and pure. Ty was a good man. He was honorable. He’d dedicated his life to fight against drugs and the dealers in his hometown. And in his mind, it still hadn’t been enough.
But this time, when the lump of rage swelled in her throat, she allowed the tears to burn hot streaks down her face. Burn with no embarrassment and no regret. Because this time she’d earned them. Ty had earned them, too. They weren’t poor-pitiful-me tears. They were pissed-off, fuck-the-universe tears.
“You know what? You and I walk around blaming ourselves for every tragedy that touches us, and I’m sick of it.”
Maybe it was the words, or maybe the harsh tone, but his gaze quickly shot to hers. “Isn’t it possible that you and I are average people doing the best we can? I mean, really, Ty. How deep are we going to bury ourselves in the bullshit?”
She pushed off his lap. “I hate that my family was murdered. Absolutely
hate
that I’ve spent every day of my life wondering what I could have done differently to change what happened. Now I wonder if I’ve spent the majority of my life never really knowing who my dad was. And worse, being angry and too stupid to dig for the truth. But enough is enough. And you . . .”
She stood over him, shaking an accusing finger. “You’re as bad as me. I’ve connected with Tara. Whether you like it or not, your sister worshipped you and still does. Sometimes things aren’t clear to me, but that fact is crystal clear. You have to drop the guilt and move on. You have to, or you’ll drown in it like I’ve done for the last twenty years.”
Freaking tears.
They were beginning to take control.
“Arlo Buck and his drugs are to blame. The boy who raped and killed Tara—he’s to blame. But you . . .”
Ty stood, eased toward her.
She held her hands up to stop him, afraid she’d lose it if he touched her. And what she wanted to tell him was something that desperately needed to be said. Because if someone had said it to her, someone who loved her, maybe she wouldn’t have walked around with her head up her ass for twenty years. “You are a complete idiot if you blame yourself for anything that happened to Tara. I know it, Tara knows it, and everyone else knows it, too.”
Her body trembled. “If you never believe another word I say, believe this—the guilt will destroy you. It will leave you bitter and hateful, just a stupid shell of what you could be. And it’s n-not going to . . . it’s n-not g-going to help.”
Ty wrapped her in his arms.
She sagged into his embrace, felt the emotions between them, twisting, turning, fusing to form an overwhelming tenderness. If his strength hadn’t been holding her upright, she wasn’t sure her legs could have done the job.
“I love you.” He kissed her cheek, her lips. “So much I can’t even breathe right now.” He tucked her head against his chest and kissed her forehead. They stood that way for a long time. When they were both steadier, he eased her head back, cradled her face, and looked into her eyes. “You know I’ve tried to tell you all those same things.”
She held up a hand to cut him off. “I’m aware of that, cowboy. I’m just a slow study. It takes me longer than most people to get a clue. I’m not going to be able to change overnight, but I will
try
to be honest with you. And you can ask me anything you want, any time you want.”
His hands were still on her cheeks, so she covered them with her own and squeezed. “I’m also going to try to leave the past where it belongs. Because I really,
really
want to have a life with you. And I’m scared to death it isn’t going to happen unless we both let go of the pain and the guilt that keeps dragging us under.”
His mouth was on hers, stealing her next breath before her brain could catch up. Breathing was overrated anyway. Kissing never felt like a luxury with Ty, it was essential. Like food or air. And when it was slow and deep and fierce—like it was right now—she wanted to crawl inside him and drown in the sensations. Jesus God, nothing could ever compare to the feel of him.
He slid his hands down to her butt and pressed his erection against her. Her insides liquefied, melted into a hot mess of blinding need. The fact that he could turn her inside out, render her utterly helpless in less time than it took to flip a light switch, drove her mad.
She wanted to take care of
him,
to be the one who turned
him
inside out—just for tonight. The pleasure they found in each other could shatter demons and lighten darkness. He’d done it for her time and again.
For years she’d kept herself locked under paralyzing, suffocating control. Being able to hand Ty the reins in the bedroom had become the sweetest form of therapy and release and pleasure.
Tonight, the tables were going to turn, quite possibly with enough force to make his head spin. She wanted to numb his mind, free his body, and let him forget the darkness.
Already he’d pulled her hair out of its ponytail and fanned his fingers through it. He worked her sweatshirt over her head and slid his fingers toward the clasp of her bra. She decided to help before he snapped it in half, as he was prone to do.
His mouth came down on her breast. His teeth tightened around her nipple.
She moaned and her body jerked. It was the perfect degree of pain to send pleasure zinging through her belly.
She was falling—rapidly, mindlessly, desperately—into familiar heat, ready to wave the white flag and not just let him have his way, but enjoy the hell out of it as he took the lead.
He’d stripped her top half bare and was getting busy with the button on her jeans. She was behind in the race for control, and her fingers fumbled as she tried to catch up. She couldn’t work fast enough to unbutton his shirt, so she ripped it open. And, okay, maybe she was knocked off her game for one freaking second because—
damn
—how she loved a man with a great big chest and muscled arms.
Once the shirt was gone, she gave herself a mental shake and traced her hands down the dark trail of hair from his chest to his stomach and lower. Her fingers brushed against the plump head of his penis straining at the top of his jeans, and the erotic little accident made him groan.
She recognized his deep breath as a grasp for control. Smiling, she thought,
don’t bother tonight, pal.
Her fingers rubbed him again, nowhere near an accident this time.
He cupped her breasts, and his thumbs circled her nipples.
The teasing sound of his zipper plunging downward punctuated their quick breaths. She pushed his jeans lower and lower until they were well below his hips, then wrapped her fingers around him. While stroking her hand up and down his long length, she traced her tongue up his neck.
His muscles tensed as though she’d sliced him open.
Mr. In-Control was wildly out of control. She grinned at the telltale signs.
His fingers were usually quite skilled and precise against her breasts. She’d been on the receiving end of his calculated moves enough to know reckless and struggling when she felt it. His head fell back and his breath hitched. With every pump of her fist he groaned.
For once, she had the upper hand, and she rather liked it.
No, she loved it.
The need to drive him completely and entirely mad coursed hot and heavy through her veins. She dropped to her knees, pushed his pants to the floor, and took him as deeply into her mouth as she could manage.
A long grumbled “
fuuuuck”
erupted from him as he drove into her. His fingers wound into her hair, softly at first, but then they tangled harder, tugging, as he plunged deeper and faster.
There was a thrill in controlling a strong man like Tyler McGee. And right now she owned him. Relaxing her muscles, she opened up, gave each wild thrust a small vibrating moan when he pushed against the back of her throat.
He jerked away, grabbed her under the arms and pulled her to standing. “Not a good idea.” He growled the words and didn’t look nearly as happy as a man who was getting a world-class blow job should have looked.
“A guy can only take so fucking much.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. He unfastened her jeans. “Take them off now. Please. Or I’ll do it for you.”
***
Jordan slapped his hand away and arched a brow. “This is my show, cowboy.”
He was nowhere near amused. What masochistic part of his heart had fallen for this incredibly complicated woman? “You’re going to be the death of me.” He whispered the words to himself, but she grinned.
He loved her. Loved her so fucking much he’d cut off a hand before getting rough with her, but she appeared to be on a mission to push him to insanity tonight. “Baby, cut me some slack, work with me here. Please. I’m trying to be gentle, but I’m only human.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Who said I wanted gentle all the time?” To prove her words, she shoved his chest. Hard. With his jeans wrapped around his ankles, he stumbled back and fell onto the couch.
“You don’t want to make love?” he asked. “Guess I got the wrong impression when you sucked my dick into your mouth.” He smiled and tried to keep the words easy, even though his body wanted something far different from easy.
She bent over him, ran her tongue around the edge of his ear, and whispered, “Oh, we’re going to make love.” She pressed his face into the cleavage of her breasts as she whispered again. “But I’m going to take you in my mouth and make you beg for mercy first.”
“Maybe later.” He reached for the zipper on her jeans again. “Right now, that’s not a good idea.”
“Why not? I think it’s the best idea I’ve had all day,” she purred.
“Because right now I want to bend you over the nearest table and fuck you in a very ungentlemanly way.”
The words, though harsh, were honest and should have given her a reality check concerning exactly how raw
every fucking nerve
of his was.
She winked.
Fucking
winked. “Sounds promising.”
Her earlier anger on his behalf had gutted him emotionally. And now she was physically slicing him up with a sex kitten routine he hadn’t seen before.
“You don’t get your way till I get mine. Unless . . .” She backed away and peeled off her jeans, moved her hands to her breasts, pushing them up and together and teasing the hell out of him by running her thumbs around and around the dark red nipples. “Unless you really don’t like oral sex.”
She dropped to her knees again. “Which I find very hard to believe because of the way you use your mouth on me.” Her hands slid up his thighs, then wrapped around him.
But instead of putting his dick in her mouth, she pressed her breasts around him and rubbed up and down. On each down stroke, her mouth opened and she sucked with just enough pressure to tease. It was very possibly the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He hardened to painful, searing steel.
“You’re teasing,” he murmured. “Playing with fire.” He managed to pull the words off mildly, but he was about two seconds from pushing her back, taking her fast, and coming so hard, it’d be a miracle if he didn’t lose consciousness.
“I like it slow and gentle sometimes,” she said. “But other times I
want
the fire.” She eased back. “Unless you really don’t like this. I mean, you can tell me if this isn’t your thing. I just always thought most guys—”
At the end of his fucking rope, Ty grabbed her shoulders and hauled her so close their lips brushed. He wouldn’t call it a kiss so much as a plea for mercy. “You’re right about most guys. When a sexy blonde with big breasts wraps her lips around your dick, most guys won’t resist. Not even with a nuclear bomb ticking down beside them.”
Then he did kiss her—long, slow, and gentle—so that she’d understand she was everything that mattered in his world. Then he eased back. “You’re not some random blonde I intend to use for rough, sweaty sex. You’re the woman I love, and I’m trying to show some respect, which may not be an option if you put your mouth on me like that again. Do we understand each other?”
Looking genuinely perplexed, she tilted her head. “Are you saying a guy will have wild and rough oral sex with a stranger—probably because he won’t have to look at her again—but you can’t just say
fuck it
and go nuts with someone you love? It’s either hot, rough sex with a woman you don’t know or nice, gentle sex with a girlfriend, but not both?”
Heaven help me.
The woman never failed to turn logic on its ear. No, that wasn’t exactly what he meant, but . . .
She rolled her eyes. “Men are so fucking stupid. No wonder everyone ends up divorced. If you think I’m settling for lazy, boring leftovers because you have some twisted version of a white knight complex, you’ve got another think coming.”
While trailing a finger down the middle of his chest, she licked her lips. Wickedly. “I suck at
everything
when it comes to relationships.” Then she smiled. “Except for sex. So sit back, cowboy. And hold the fuck on.” She fluffed her hair and peered at him while batting her lashes. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said in a sugar-sweet voice. “You can call me Candy.”
***
“Mmmm . . .” The purr of satisfaction rumbled from deep in Jordan’s chest. She was at one with the universe, had seen it all now. And
that
was quite an accomplishment, because she’d seen some shit. But Tyler McGee without a shred of control in his mind
or
body was burned in her retinas.