“That didn’t take long,” she whispered with a coy grin and a kiss to his cheek, still holding his softening shaft gently, almost reverently, and he turned his mouth into hers to capture the next kiss for himself, biting that lip, soothing the nip with his tongue. “Who knows how to drive who wild, Tyler Dixon?” she murmured against his mouth.
That grin he’d been wearing like a comfortable shirt spread his lips now as he pulled back, brushed back her hair, tucking it behind her ear, trying to master his breathing and racing pulse as his eyes trailed over the nuances of her nose and lips, her smooth, kissable jawline that he couldn’t wait to see buried in his pillows again tonight.
“You win. No complaints about your technique, Tie-Dye,” he drawled as she fished behind him for her backpack and produced a tissue, her breasts mashing against his face as she did so and him unable to resist a playful nibble because God, her breasts are smashed to my face.
Cleaning up, his hands spanned her waist. He pulled her belly against his: hot, bare skin against his skin. Dust now covering them from kicking up dirt with the windows down mingling with the stickiness of the August humidity. His thumbs still holding her waist teased the edges of her incision, and that voice of concern he couldn’t quell reared its head.
“What happened?” he muttered as he pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth.
She stilled. He felt her stomach suck in beneath his touch like a retracting tendon. Then she pulled up from him, an unreadable, almost blank expression in her eyes when before, they’d been so expressive.
She pasted a smile back on her face. “Fallout from a car accident.”
But she still straightened out her shirt, letting it fall over her belly, over his hand still spanning her waist, a shield that seemed out of character for her confident charisma.
Should he ask her more about it? “Must have been a bad one.”
She bit her lip again, eyes bouncing back and forth between his as his searched hers, but there was nothing seductive about the uncertain expression on her face this time.
“People don’t usually ask me about it.”
How could they not? This woman didn’t seem to have a single qualm about getting naked with a man. She oozed body confidence. How would a lover look at that scar and not want to know what had happened?
“What assholes are you sleeping with that they’re not concerned when they see a scar like that?”
“Maybe I don’t let them see it,” she breathed as if it had rolled off her tongue before she could stop it.
She began to climb off him, but he captured her and held her to him, hands roving over her shoulders. Her retreat felt an awful lot like cowardice.
“Seems like it weighs on your mind,” he added. “Need to talk about it?”
“I definitely do not need to talk about it.” There was fierceness in her quiet reply, as if he’d stoked fighting words.
“Maybe you oughta.” His hands crept beneath her tank again, holding her waist.
“That would be personal. Like the back injury you avoided like the plague yesterday. Only people with attachments talk about stuff like this.”
Touchéagain. And yet, what would one little attachment hurt? He took a deep breath.
“We’re skirtin’ the line of impartiality considering your survey job.”
“There’s that, too,” she muttered as she chewed her lip.
“As much as I don’t like the reason that you’re here, I don’t want to screw my case up further should Fossyl find out that we’ve been getting in each other’s pants. I want you to do an impartial job, so I know I didn’t cheat the system by swaying you and that I’ve got a legal leg to stand on.”
“I just jacked you off and let you kiss my boobs. Safe to say impartiality is a fleeting construct.”
His mouth curled into a soft smile at her attempt at a joke. He swallowed. His thumbs swirled circles upon the scar tissue contemplatively. All right, he’d simply have to tell her. Maybe he could open up a tiny bit to put her at ease. He didn’t have to mention Izzy’s name. He’d just have to be careful.
He murmured softly. “If I told you how I injured my back, would you tell me?”
She shrugged like it was no big deal. “Depends.”
How did he even start? Maybe just spit out the CliffsNotes version?
“Someone important in my life crashed her car in a construction zone with my boys in it, when they were babies, ages two and four.” Heather froze. Face drained of all color.
“Did anyone die?” she whispered.