I laughed under my breath. "I said a lot of things, Tucker."
His hands fisted, he braced over me, a looming shadow that that made my body buzz with anticipation. Whoever, whatever caused this, I wanted to send them a freaking thank you note.
"You know what you said, Angry Girl."
At the nickname, I bit down on my bottom lip and grinned. It was so hard for me to focus on anything with him over me like that. He was between my legs, but not touching me, both of us fully clothed.
I wanted all the clothes off.
All the skin and hands and body parts interlocked in the best possible way.
I wanted this truck bench to be forever christened with me and him.
His nostrils flared, a bull about to charge, as he looked down the length of my body. "You were wearing something an awful lot like this." He pressed my leg up toward my chest, braced against his side, and the brush of his dress pants against the skin of my thigh felt positively sinful. "Something simple that shouldn't have been as sexy as it was." His hand tightened on my leg when I tried to hook it around his back and pull him in more tightly. "And those boots," he growled. "What'd you say, facing me like you were on that road?" he asked again. "I know you know it."
After a shaky inhale, I licked my lips. "I said that if I wanted to screw someone I just met, it was my prerogative."
"Good girl."
"Do I get a reward for guessing right?" I went to unhook his belt, but he gripped my wrists and tossed my arms back up over my head. I raised an eyebrow but complied instantly. Tucker had a secret bossy side, and I was not mad about it.
His hands moved to the neck of my tank top. "If you love this shirt, speak now or forever hold your peace."
My lips stayed shut, and my reward was a satisfying rip and tear of the cotton, exposing the bright blue bralette to the cool air of the garage. He shoved it up while my lungs heaved. Tucker dove down and sucked at my chest angrily.
I'd be marked from this. But I already was, in ways that he never could have imagined.
If he wanted me to keep my hands off him, he shouldn't have been as good as what he was doing, because I gripped the back of his head and writhed underneath him. "Holy shit, Tucker," I groaned.
"Shorts. Off. Now."
He ripped at his belt buckle while I tore at the buttons of my jean shorts. Shucking them down my hips, I got caught on his giant, tree trunk body pinning me to the bench. With a laugh, I tried to push him up. "Move, I can't get them off."
"You were so mouthy," he said, drawing a hand down the line of my chest. "So angry. Full of fire and heat."
My frantic movements stilled as he reminisced. There was a far-off quality to his voice, even as his hands touched my bare skin.
"It made no sense, that when you said it, I'd picture it immediately," he said, eyes locked on mine. "I pictured you like this, just for one split second and it was gone."
"I did too," I whispered.
Dark-edged pleasure crossed his face. "What was I doing to you, Angry Girl?"
He used his hands to pull down my shorts until I could pull one leg free.
"Take your shirt off and I'll tell you," I taunted.
Tucker laughed, and it was edged in something dark and delicious. "Oh no, right now isn't when you get to tell me what to do. Next round can be yours, but this," he used his fingers until I cried out, arched up, tightened and then moaned when he pulled away, "this is mine."
He gripped my wrists and pinned them to the bench above my head, kissing me deep and hard, tongue sliding relentlessly. He pulled back and whispered dirty things into the skin of my neck, things that turned me mindless with want. And just like that, me wearing a torn shirt and a shoved-aside bra and my boots, he screwed me on the bench of his truck.
Whatever happened to him, whatever made him feel like this was a necessary exorcism, might have worried the person I was before I loved him.
Tucker was relentless, setting a rhythm that had the truck rocking in a way that would be lewd if anyone could see it. And just beyond the line of the garage was the bright sun. If we were past that line, the thing separating us from the darkness, we'd be in danger of public indecency.
Neither of us would stop though. All I could do was hold on, because this was unyielding, unbending pleasure. His face was tight as his hips pistoned between my legs, sweat coating his forehead, teeth gritted and veins in his neck popping out.
"Tucker," I warned, tossing my head back, when I felt the build crawl up my spine like the eye of a hurricane. It was a slow-moving storm waiting to slam into me and the anticipation had me coiling tighter and tighter.
"Let it go, baby, I've got you," he said tightly.
Hands trapped, body pinned and on the precipice of something massive, it made no sense that now was the time that I couldn't hold my heart in.
I exploded, bright and fiery and hot, mouth open on a silent scream, when the words came tumbling out. "I love you, I love you, I love you so much."
He took my words with a roar, with eyes dilated with pleasure, and he slumped over me with a heaving chest, finally letting go of my hands.
My heart was hammering, partially as I came down from a walloping orgasm, partially because I did the one thing I vowed never to do, which was admit I loved him in
