Page 82 of 50 Ways to Win Back Your Lover

“Fuck, no.” Even the thought has my jaw hardening. “The only person who gets to see you gloriously naked is me. But something about the possibility of getting caught might excite me.”

Her nostrils flare, and she bites her lip. “Okay.”

This conversation is more than okay. Not only am I dying to growl naughty words to Delilah, but I love that we no longer have to disguise our desires, talking about spicy food instead of sharing our true fantasies.

Feeling impatient to have her in my arms, I let her clean the rest of my face, then pull her into me under the fairy lights, at the outskirts of the grassy dance area. She rests her head on my chest. I splay my hand possessively on her lower back, the two of us swaying to the band’s slow song. I honestly love this woman. Talking openly with her, teasing, joking, stoking each other’s desire with nothing but a few whispered words. I also love being here, in this town full of memories, surrounded by friends and townsfolk who no longer want to chase me with pitchforks.

The fiddle’s gentle tempo weaves with our steps. The fairy lights cast a magical glow over the crowd.

Holding Delilah tighter, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I thought I maybe built up Windfall in my mind, that I remembered it with rose-colored glasses.” I inhale Delilah’s scent—sugar, spice, and everything nice—taking in the barbecue tent, the scarecrows on the lampposts, the kids chasing one another by the fountain as parents and teens smile and chat in groups. “But it’s even better than I remembered. There’s a peacefulness and warmth in this town that’s irreplicable.”

Delilah hums against me. “I think part of the reason I left Hugo, aside from him being a selfish dick, was because deep down I didn’t want to leave here.”

I move us in a circle, ending farther from the crowd. “I hate that he didn’t treat you with respect, but I’m thankful you didn’t get married.”

She doesn’t reply, but she hugs me so tight I feel the hard beat of her heart. We dance quietly, clinging to each other in a way that excites and scares me. Like we’re both addicted to each other but worried this high will eventually crash.

I brush her wild curls off her face, try to read her eyes in the dimness. “Thanks for an awesome day and for making me take a break from working.”

“Today was so fun.” She runs her hands up and down my back. “I don’t want it to end.”

Not liking the melancholy in her tone, I lean down and lick a path up her ear. “The day’s not over yet. I still have plans for us.”

She whimpers and rocks her pelvis into me, a needy move that threatens my composure. Her admission about dirty talk stoked a fire in my gut. I’m more than eager to test Delilah’s boundaries.

Licking my lips, I anchor her against my thigh, my cock already pumped with steel. “You like rubbing your pussy on me, baby? Does that feel good?”

“God, yes.”

“How about this?” I grip her ass and grind her on my thigh, readying to give her all the dirty talk she can handle. “I’m picturing my cock sinking into you, Delilah, thrusting so fucking hard. Filling you up over and over. Is my thigh enough, or do you need more?”

“I need . . .” She trails off as her hands dig harder into my back.

“What do you need, baby? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“You.” It’s just one word, but the way she says it—you—as a gasped plea, I’m not sure she’s just asking for sexual release. “Please,” she adds, and my brain shuts off.

I don’t need to overthink. I don’t need oxygen to survive. I just need the ability to give Delilah whatever she desires. “I’m taking you home.”

I grab her hand to go, but she yanks me the other way. “We’re not going home.”

“We’re not?”

She shoots a sultry look over her shoulder. “No, babe. We’re not.”

I follow, confused, until she drags me into the alleyway on the opposite side of the street and starts kissing me. In public. Fulfilling my fantasy. I respond hungrily. Cage her against the brick wall, taking her mouth in a blistering kiss, moving deep and thorough, our hungry sounds louder than the music drifting from the square.

“Is this risky enough for you?” she asks against my lips.

“It’s fucking perfect.” Semidark and just the right amount of dangerous, the soft sounds from the festival reminding me people are nearby. But I’m not the only one with hidden desires. “You like it like this, baby? With my tongue fucking your mouth? Or does your pretty little cunt feel empty?”

Eyes blown wide, she takes my hand and guides it under her skirt.

Guess she likes my dirty talk.

“That’s a good girl. You want me to feel how wet you are, is that it?” I run my finger over her underwear, and fuck. She’s more than wet. She’s drenched, working her hips to get some friction against the soft graze of my fingers.

“E, please. I need this. Now. Please make me come.”