I backed out of the parking spot, my lips still tingling from the kiss and my chin aching from the way his stubble had rubbed it. I glanced in Jordan’s direction as I drove past him. He was standing next to his truck with his door open, and the look in his eyes was predatory.#p#分页标题#e#
As in run—that kind of predatory. “Run and don’t stop until you’re far away or you’ve been caught” predatory, “because the result if you get caught won’t be pretty” kind of predatory.
I couldn’t help but grin.
I was so ready for class tomorrow—and I really was leaving my panties behind.
Fuck it.
Demon, he though as she drove away. Little fucking devil.
He watched as her car joined the traffic filtering onto I-90 and disappeared from view. This had been the hardest conversation he’d had in a long time, and his guilt from his actions last night stung him hard. She was so fucking sweet. Darcy, that was. He had known from the moment he’d met her that there was something different about her, and there it was.
They shared the same pain, even if their victims had been on the other sides of the coin.
He didn’t want to admit that his therapist and his mom had been onto something when they’d said that it was therapeutic to talk. He didn’t think any kind of talking was right. It had to be talking to the right person.
He also didn’t want to admit that Darcy was the right person. What if she was? The thought didn’t bear contemplating. She was supposed to be a fling, a time-filler, nothing more. Especially given his…bad behavior…last night. He couldn’t help but a feel a severe pang of guilt whenever he thought about that.
Because today… Fuck. He’d connected with Darcy on a level he hadn’t known existed in his life. Their common loss bound them. He knew that. He’d seen and felt enough to know it.
It terrified him.
Like a hurricane touching down on land or a tsunami forcing its power onto the coast. He was so fucking scared of what this meant, and not much scared him. But Darcy… Shit. Darcy.
She was terrifying. With her hot-and-cold persona, her skittish and confident demeanor. Mostly, it was her attitude. No matter how she felt, that attitude was always there, simmering beneath the surface. It didn’t matter whether he was kissing her or—as he’d learned today—buying her lunch, she was sassy as fuck.
Hell, she had sassy pants for every day of the goddamn week. He’d bet fifty bucks that every single day had a fucking different pattern too.
That was Darcy Hamilton. Unpredictable, challenging. All the things that made him excited. But, this time, there was a desire he hadn’t had before. At least, anymore. If he’d felt it at the start, he’d forgotten.
He didn’t want to hurt her. In any kind of way.
He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to abuse her body in the most pleasurable of ways. He wanted to tease her until she came, writhing beneath him. He wanted to own every single inch of her skin, of course. But he didn’t want to hurt her.
Physically. Emotionally.
He was far softer with her than he’d been with the others. He didn’t know why, but he figured he’d discovered why today. He’d found out exactly why Darcy was different and marched to the beat of her own drum.
He’d just told himself two days ago that he had nothing to lose because he’d already lost everything.
Maybe that was why Darcy was the way she was.
You couldn’t truly hurt a woman who’d already suffered unimaginable pain. You couldn’t ever top the loss of a person she loved.
He knew that. He could lose his job, his house, his car, his money… Sleeping on the streets would hurt less than the moment he’d realized Amanda had died.
He wondered if that was how Darcy had felt when she’d found out about her boyfriend.
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Of course it was. She had to had felt that pain. She knew. She knew it so damn well that she could probably trace his scars if he revealed them to her, but that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want to show her a thing. He wanted to lock the pain away once more.
He’d already felt her. Darcy. Something about her. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to feel a thing except how fucking tight her pussy felt around his cock. That was it and only it. Fi-fucking-nite.
That had to be it.
I was a woman on a mission. Granted, I’d lost my trump card, as it were, but that only spurred me on. If his wife wasn’t his secret, something else had to be. I knew I might have been fishing in an empty lake, but even if I only brought up old boots, I had to try. Better to look and never find than never look and always wonder.