Page 64 of Bad Husband

“What are you doing? We’re in the middle of nowhere.” Her hands that were once beside her move to my chest, pushing back.

I draw back, eyes wild and reckless, everything she’s making me feel lately. “Don’t think. Just be here.”

I reach for her hips and slide her to the edge of the tailgate, my hands moving up her dress to the edge of her panties. “Stop backing away from me,” I growl, coming forward again, a soft rumble in my chest as it presses into hers. My head hits her shoulder. “I don’t like being denied something for so long,” I tell her, turning my head, my lips at her ear, breath cool compared to the heat around us. “It only makes me want you more.”

“Ridley.” She pushes back against my chest again, her palms flat, but she’s not pushing me away.

“Don’t tell me to stop.” My hand raises to touch the side of her face, my weight pressing forward in an attempt to make contact with her again. My right thumb slides over her lips. “You know you want me too.”

“I just don’t think we should be doing this out here. We don’t even know where we are.”

I shake my head, refusing to acknowledge her denial. “Who cares? Be in the moment.”

“Stop.” She pushes back away from me, sliding further back in my truck bed. “Not right now.”

“You’re saying no?” I raise an eyebrow, and she nods. “Should I remind you how good it is with me before you say no? Remind you of how good it always is between us?”

My eyes fall to her legs, watching my tentative touch move higher. Climbing in the bed of the truck with her, I remove my hands from her to my shorts. Lazy lidded, I undo them. I’ll stop if she really wants me to. I’m certainly not that guy, but look at her right now. Those beautiful begging blue eyes are telling me another story. She’s pleading for me to take her in the bed of my truck, in the middle of nowhere because I can’t fucking stand it anymore.

She blinks and it’s as if memories of us are flashing in her eyes.

Do you see the way she’s giving in? It’s in the way she’s watching me. At least I see it.

“Please…,” I beg. “I can’t stop thinking about how much I want you and this dress….” I shake my head, drawing a whistled breath between my teeth. “Ineedyou.”

I know this doesn’t fix anything, and it’s just sex, but you can’t blame me for trying because when you think about it, before the whole Kip drama, sex got her at least talking to me.

I don’t give her a chance to utter her denial. Instead I lean in, kissing her with hungry lips, seeking her warm ones. My tongue strokes her lips before pulling it inside my mouth harshly.

Sighing, I draw back, mouth lingering over the top of hers. “Why do you torture me? Why is this so fucking hard?”

Her body trembles as my fingers weave into her hair, grasping a handful and pulling as her mouth covers mine. Pressing forward, I lie on top of her.

“I don’t mean to torture you,” she answers breathlessly, watchful of my reaction.

She kisses me back right then. Gripping my neck, her hands fist in my hair tighter.

I moan quietly as our tongues meet and pin her to the bed of the truck with my hips, so strong and forceful she’ll know just how much I want her to fulfill this burning ache I have deep within to have her this way.

Shaking with a subtle tremor, her body curves, bending around mine as she spreads her legs wider. My mouth moves hastily from her ear to her neck and down her collarbone, before returning to her mouth.

With lust-stricken eyes, I move back far enough to get my shorts undone and her panties removed.

Madison’s hands slide from my hair to my shoulders, brushing up over my arms and grabbing my biceps, feeling them flex and tighten beneath her grasp as I move forward and press my weight into her again.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

I know she’s not going to deny me. I see it written on her face, but I’m curious what she’s going to do.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she breathes. “Iwant you, Ridley.”

Did you see the emphasis she put on those words?

I certainly did.

Without breaking the kiss, my mouth is back to her neck when my hips move against hers. There’s no denying what’s going on when my hips drag over hers.

And then she angles her hips, making more direct, persistent contact with mine.

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