Crossing the Line (15 page)

“You gotta be fucking kidding me…” He shook his head and turned his back to her. “Not talking about this right now.”

“Fine.” She dropped her silky robe on the floor, pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the shower behind him. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, down his beautifully inked arms. Then around front as she pressed her body against his back.

“What the fuck is this, Hanna?”

“Us not talking.” She wrapped her fingers around his cock. A couple of strokes and it swelled to its usual, glorious size in her palm. She pushed her hips forward, suddenly desperate for more, harder, contact—the kind this position would never provide. “I love your body.” His skin was warm and slick from the water. She licked his back, kissed and bit it while she worked him with her fist. More. She needed a whole lot more. “I need to be with you tonight.”

“Tonight.”
He coughed out another of those venomous grunts as he turned. Eyes that were usually clear and blue as a summer sky were dark and stormy. His hand shot to the back of her neck. He gripped her hard, then slid his fingers into her hair, where he used a fistful to pull her head back. “You want me to fuck you?”

“More than anything.”

“Then stop talking.”

Yes, he was probably embarrassed and frustrated about how the whiskey had rendered him impotent last night. But to be
this
angry about it twenty-four hours later made no sense. Especially for a man with his virility and strength of character. But whatever he needed to do to get past it, she was in.

“If you don’t want me to talk, I suggest you keep my mouth busy with other things.”

There. The hint of a smile. Of
her
Derrick. His lips came down hard on hers, his tongue demanding entrance as his growl filled her mouth. That’s all it took for her body to go pliant against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her leg around his hip. Let his possessive kiss sweep her away.

He bent and lifted her in one easy motion. She gasped as her back hit the wall, the zing of pain shooting from multiple points of contact with ceramic. He didn’t stop or check if she was okay. Just pushed inside her, hard and fast, borderline aggressive.

He pinned her tighter against the wall, forcing her hips to spread wider. Better access for him to pound into her. Which he did, over and over, grunting in her ear with each thrust. His hand in her hair forced her head to tilt. His mouth moved lower, to the side of her neck. Heat streaked from the spot. Not a light nip, his teeth clamped around her skin. She cried out, tried to escape the burn, but he held her in place. Biting, sucking—owning her flesh.

“Please…”

“Told you no talking.” He almost barked the words at her.

She could play that game too. “And I told you to keep my mouth busy.”

Then he was out of her, away from her, though his hand remained tangled in her now-soaked hair. A not-so-gentle jerk brought her to her knees. “Then get busy.”

“I win.” She swirled her tongue around the ridge beneath his tip. Teased the head of his cock in and out of her mouth. “This is exactly what I wanted to do.”

“Less talking, more sucking.”

“You said ‘less’, not ‘no’. I call that progress.”

“How about I say, shut up and suck my dick. How’s that for progress?” Harsh words, but his mean-guy act didn’t scare her.

One of the things she was certain of in this world—Derrick would never physically hurt her. If he gave it to her hard or rough, it was because he knew she wanted it that way. He always knew. Always gave her what she needed.

But she knew him too. And it was her turn to give him what he needed. “How about I say, ‘with pleasure’.” She opened wider and took him all the way, the insistent hum of desire between her legs ratcheting higher when the head of his cock bumped the back of her throat.

“Always gotta have the last word.” His fist tightened in her hair, but his voice had lost its edge.

“Mmm-hmm…” She hummed the acknowledgement while letting him slide completely free of her mouth. “And the last words are I love you.”

God, his eyes, staring down at her. So conflicted.

She wrapped her arms around him. Scored his hamstrings and taut butt with her nails, eased one hand between his legs to give his balls the same treatment. She hummed again while looking up at him. Words he couldn’t possibly understand, yet he did. His free hand settled around the base of his cock, holding it steady so she could fuck her mouth onto it, deep and fast. Water rolled into her eyes. Up her nose. She pinched her eyes closed and focused on breathing. Giving him everything she had.

“Fuck, baby, that’s good.”

That one word made her heart soar.
Baby.
As long as he called her that, they were okay.

She followed the river rolling down the crack of his ass and pressed one finger against his rim. A little breach, enough to hit some nerve endings and make him thrust into her mouth involuntarily. The only thing better than Derrick controlling the scene was Derrick losing control. With her, because of her.

His cock swelled, pulsed against her tongue, the inside of her cheeks. So thick and hot. She sucked hard as she let him slide from her mouth. She swirled her tongue under the ridge of his broad, deep-red cock head, then back and forth along the slit, lapping greedily at the beads of pre-cum.

“I love the way you taste,” she said, then took him deep again, kept him there as she teased the tip of her finger in and out of his ass. His ragged breathing and muttered curses drove her higher. She hummed around his cock, stared up at him, pleading with her eyes, begging him to come down her throat—that sweet mix of losing and taking control she craved from him.

“No, not like this.” The shower door banged open. He scooped her up, made the trip to their bedroom in a blink. He hit the lights and dropped onto his back, with her straddling his hips, her hands flat on his chest. “This way. So I can watch you move, see your face, feel you come around me.”

Didn’t matter that he’d been inside her thousands of times, including minutes ago. The sweet intensity of his words and voice, the gentle slowness with which he pulled her onto his cock, made tears well in her eyes.

He reached up to wipe one from her cheek. “S’okay, baby, I get it.”

Got what? That none of the other stuff mattered if she didn’t have him—not family or her job or lost wishes—he’d better understand that. She nodded, cradled his jaw between her palms and leaned in to kiss him. The only lips she’d kissed in a decade, and the only lips she planned to kiss until the day she died.

He caressed the lines of her body. Tactile worship that both relaxed and aroused her. Magical and addictive, she’d never get enough of his hands on her skin. One palm slid behind her neck. Gentler this time. A soft touch didn’t mean he owned her any less, though. Every brush of his lips and sweep of his tongue sent sparks racing through her body. His hand spanned her lower back. Each thrust seated him deep inside her, each roll of his hips teased her clit with more friction, pushing her higher, closer.

“More,” she whispered between kisses.

He gripped her hips, pressed her down, opening her hips wider until she got all the exquisite contact she needed.

“God, Derrick…” She rocked her clit over his pelvis. Bucked and clung to him, barely able to catch a breath.

“That’s it, baby. Use me.”

She did. A million beautiful stars’ worth. They exploded beneath her closed eyes, lit her up from the inside and left her plastered to his chest, panting and entirely sated.

His arms banded around her and he pressed his lips to her hair. “Want me to stay?”

“Of course I do.” She mustered enough energy to lift her head. “Where else would I want you to be?”

Against her body, his shoulders shrugged. In front of her face, the clouds returned to his eyes. “The couch.”

Even through their darkest times, she’d never relegated him to the couch. Last night had obviously affected him more than she thought. She smoothed her fingers over his beard and smiled at the involuntary sigh her touch caused in this badass, strong-willed man. “I want you beside me. Wrapped around me, all night long.”

“Then that’s where I’ll be.”

* * * * *

Not that she tended to be a Monday-hater, but this one had ticked away with excruciating slowness. The students hadn’t noticed Hanna’s impatience with the day, but Megan had picked up on it.

“Want me to dismiss the kids so you can get out and get home?” she asked when Hanna glanced at the classroom clock for about the twentieth time in as many minutes.

“Thanks, but it’s fine. I can’t sneak out early—there’s always somebody waiting to talk to me about something.” Such as a parent with legitimate questions or concerns, or the principal with some nonsensical idea designed to make him look good with the superintendent, not benefit the student community. She’d miss the kids when she left her job at the end of the year. Not the politics.

The three-thirty bell rang. Twenty tiny people lost any remaining focus they had and the end-of-day scramble began. The clearing of knee-high desks, packing of knapsacks that in some cases nearly outweighed the carrier. Shoes were changed and jackets zipped. Hanna unlocked the coatroom door that led to the secure kindergarten playground and smiled at the lucky people waiting to collect their precious charges. The usual faces stared back at her.

Plus one—Jeremy, taking Vivien’s place for pickup duty today. And oh boy, did he have the attention of the ladies in attendance. Rightly so. Jeremy Cruz in black pinstripe suit pants and a smoky-gray dress shirt was a sight to behold. Good thing Megan was inside. She hadn’t stopped hounding Hanna for details about the birthday threesome, and her radar was way too sharp.

Hanna dismissed the kids in alphabetical order. Jeremy came forward and took Luke’s hand, then stepped off to one side. She hadn’t spoken to him since Sunday morning when he’d dropped her at her car—an hour or so after Derrick had stormed out and she’d subsequently burst into tears. As he had Saturday night, Jeremy had hugged and calmed her, talking her off another emotional ledge. He’d texted her several times Sunday afternoon and evening, checking in. When she’d sent off a quick message to tell him Derrick had finally pulled into the driveway, he’d replied immediately, despite the late hour. He’d certainly earned his good-friend badge this weekend.

“Hey,” he said, moving in close after the last child had been collected. “How are you?”

Such a great guy. And given
all
she now knew about him, she really questioned Vivien’s sanity, divorcing this man. “I’m good.”

“Just good?” His eyebrows rose. He’d obviously noticed the change in her smile.

“Okay, I’m better than good. Much better.”

“Guess you and D got everything sorted out last night?”

“Not exactly…” God, if her smile got any bigger, her face might crack open. “But we made up. He’d already left for work when I woke up this morning, but I’m sure we’ll get around to the talking part tonight. At some point.”

“Daddy,” Luke yanked on Jeremy’s arm, “can I play on the climber while you talk?”

“Sure, buddy, if it’s okay with your teacher.” At Hanna’s nod, Jeremy kissed his son’s head and let him go, eyes full of pride and love as he watched the boy sprint away. Jeremy had always been hot, handsome and nice. Fatherhood had served to amplify those qualities. Tenfold, at least.

“Where’s Viv?” she asked, dragging her brain back to safer territory.

“In Vancouver, doing wedding prep for her sister’s insanely huge event. Flew out earlier today.” He leaned on the brick building with one arm above his head. The position boxed her in slightly, and suddenly her nose—and head—were full of his cologne and underlying, masculine scent.

“And Luke’s staying with you until she gets back?” She edged sideways a bit. Necessary breathing room.

“Yeah. Four nights with my boy. If I didn’t think Viv would go ballistic, I’d keep him home and spend some of the days with him too.”

Yup. If such a thing as a “hot dads” calendar existed, Jeremy could definitely be the centerfold. Even with his clothes on.

“I arranged my schedule so I don’t have to go farther than Toronto for a few hours while I have him, but the company I’m consulting for texted while I was on my way home just now. I have an international conference call I have to join,” he flicked his wrist to check his watch, “shit, in less than an hour.”

“Hint taken, I’m happy to help.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Just a little.” She winked. After all the hand-holding he’d performed on the weekend, she certainly owed him a favor or six. “I’ll take Luke home with me and you can pick him up when you’re done.”

He shifted and poof, that breathing room she’d made—gone. To make matters worse, he gave her an earnest yet sexy smile. “Would it be too much to ask for you to come over instead? The call won’t take long, and I’d really like him to get settled at my place.”

“Of course, no problem.” So much for her plan to hurry home, start Derrick’s favorite meal and greet him wearing her frilly, white apron and a pair of stilettos. “Let me finish up in the classroom and I’ll follow you home.”

* * * * *

Well, fuck him.

Derrick sat on his parked bike, half a block down from Jeremy’s swanky executive home. He watched Jeremy help Luke out of the backseat of the Hummer while Hanna waited at his side. Any one of them could’ve seen him sitting here if they’d turned their heads. But why would they? They expected him to be on a jobsite somewhere. Not stalking the two people he cared about most while they enjoyed a happy-family moment.

Hanna laughed at something. The sound carried on the afternoon air, hit him straight in the gut. And her face…damn, she was practically glowing.

Jeremy had it all—big house, prestigious job, cute kid—no way Derrick could compete with all that, especially when he’d seen their explosive sexual chemistry firsthand. He’d been an idiot today, thinking he had a shot at keeping her. That if he put in more effort, showed her how much he needed her, she’d choose him. Last night hadn’t been makeup sex, it’d been goodbye sex. Of the tear-his-fucking-heart-out variety. The really shitty part was, he’d known it at the time. Then he’d woken with his beautiful wife cuddled in his arms. Stupid fucking hope had gotten the best of him.