Page 67 of Replay
“Well, I didn’t like it.” My tone is acidic because I hate how foolish I feel right now. I hate how seeing her smile sweetly at him made me lose my fucking mind. More than all of that, I hate that I feel completely powerless with this woman. I crave her every fucking day, and we’re still doing this stupid secretive song and dance.
Reaching out, I gently grip her shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “Look, Tilly. You’re the one holding all the cards here. I asked you to be mine, you said yes. You wanted to take things slow, and I’m fine with that. I asked to tell your brother about us, you said no. I’m doing my fucking best not to push you at every turn, but I’m only so strong.”
Her eyes swim with uncertainty. “What do you want from me?”
“I want more,” I huff, my entire body aching to be wrapped around her. My voice softens when I repeat my words for no other reason than because it’s true. “I want more.”
She inhales and exhales slowly, her face warring with indecision that I fucking hate. How is she not secure in this? How has she not seen what we’ve had these past few weeks? I’ve never felt this way about a woman. Ever. She’s the exception. She was the exception five years ago, and she’s the exception now.
“Can we go back to my place now?” I beg because no matter how unsure she is, I can’t leave her like this.
She nods woodenly, and I feel my body sag with relief because a dark part inside me feared she might bolt after my jealous fit. The vibrating knickers went from fun to punishing all in a blink because I turned into an insecure arse.
I lace my fingers in hers and pull her down the hall towards the steps because even if I was a prat, I need to feel her skin against mine. This whole evening was fucking painful. When I walked into the suite and saw her at the bar, it took every bit of my strength not to step up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. But that wasn’t what she wanted. Yes, I was punishing her with that vibrator, but only because I had a sick hope that if I’d showed her how badly she wants me, she’d finally drop her shield and tell me what we are. It’s been weeks, and I still don’t fucking know for sure.
All I know is that she wanted to play it safe tonight, so I tried. But watching her fight back her pleasure, her cheeks flushed, teeth sunken into her lip—she was a wet fucking dream for me.
Christ.
I need to be inside her.
I shake that thought away because we’re waiting. We’re waiting because when I go inside her, I need to know what we are. None of this uncertainty and secrecy. I fucking hate it.
God, I’m a mess. I’ve been reduced to an insecure, pouting idiot in my own bloody mind. I just need to taste her and remind myself how good we are, and my head will feel right again.
As soon as we’re outside of the stadium and standing by my car, I press her up against the passenger door and grab her face. “What are you doing?” she asks, her brows knit together with confusion.
“I’ve been hard for the past hour, and I can’t shake this feeling that I’m losing you.”
Her eyes widen with genuine shock. “You’re not losing me.”
“Then please, vorrei tanto baciarti.” I run my thumbs along her cheekbones. “Please let me fucking kiss you.”
When she glances at my lips, that’s all the reply I need as I slant my mouth and crush into hers. It’s not a sweet, reacquainting kiss that dips our toes into the shallow end of our desires. It’s a hard, plunging cannonball of devouring that sends shockwaves of longing all the way to the depths of my soul.
She moans against my lips and grabs my jacket, pulling me close so our chests rub together. I hungrily devour her in the middle of a parking lot, reminding myself of the fact she wants me just as much as I want her. I know this.
And I know she wasn’t flirting tonight, so why the bloody hell did I get so upset?
Because Tilly is like a wild stallion that will bolt at the first sign of trouble. And if I want to keep moving forward with her, I need to allow her to set the pace, or I’ll lose her completely.
Our tongues twine together, and I feel my cock thickening in my trousers. I’m not sure it ever went down from before, but now it’s harder, angrier. Needier. If I inhale deeply enough, I can even smell the damp arousal between her legs, and knowing that gadget sits where I want to be causes my shaft to greedily press against her centre.
Christ, she tastes good. So fucking good. Her hips pump against mine, her leg wrapping around my hip as she grinds herself against me. I’m moments away from slipping my hand into her jeans and finger fucking her to climax when I hear a car horn blast in the distance.
“Fuck,” I growl, pulling back and looking around nervously. Press usually linger outside the stadium after matches, and the last thing I need is someone taking creepy photos of this moment. “We need to go.”
“Okay,” she croaks.
I glance over and notice that her lips are raw from my assault. She looks like a wet fucking dream all over again. Nipples poking out through the thin fabric of her kit. Chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Her eyes dip to my groin, and I feel it thump with need.
A playful smirk teases the edge of her lips, and just like that, I know we’re okay. That kiss was our version of makeup sex. And I’m okay with that. Tilly is beautiful and maddening and fun and surprising and that’s how I know she’s different. So as long as we keep moving forward. As long as she’s not running from me, I can be patient.
For now.
It’s Wednesday night, and I’m currently upstairs in my bedroom getting ready for a date with Santino. Normally, I try not to go out on weeknights because my eejit of a brother asks endless questions about who I’m seeing and where I’m going. He seems to notice less when I pop out during the weekends. But this week, I find myself missing Santino. The words he said to me on Saturday night about feeling like he’s losing me hurt me on a deep, dark level. It reminded me of the things my family said to me after I lost the pregnancy. My granddad, who’s normally not an overly emotional man, once said to me that I was sitting right in front of him, and he still couldn’t see me.
I hated those comments, but at that point in my life, I was focusing all my energy on my sobriety and getting my life back. I couldn’t let anyone in because I had to stay in control of myself.
