Page 30 of Far From Sherwood Forest (Far From #3)

Henry’s hands go to the front of my jeans, and he pops the button open.

My hands follow his lead, going to the zipper of his own jeans, ready for us to fucking tear each other’s clothes off.

Before I’m able to get that far, he stops what he’s doing and grabs both my wrists.

Raising my hands above my head, he presses them against the door.

I whine as he holds them there with one hand, his other returning to his previous task.

I’m already mourning the loss of his skin beneath my fingers.

“Henry, please,” I beg. “I want to touch you.”

Something almost pained flashes across his face as he gets my jeans open. “Not right now. This is just for you.”

I frown, but any hurt I feel vanishes the moment Henry wraps his big, warm hand around my hard cock. His lips return to mine, just as hot as his hand, burning me until I want to catch fire.

He continues holding my hands above my head as he strokes my length, his thumb occasionally swiping up the precum from my tip. I moan into his mouth and buck into his fist, the heat in my spine flaring. Our kiss goes on and on and on until I’m dizzy from stolen breaths and his rough grip.

I love it when he’s rough, so I don’t mind it.

I want it.

I need it.

Even the graze of his beard against my face is harsh, burning me along with every other part of him that’s touching me.

When his lips leave mine, moving down over my jaw to my throat, his beard scratches my skin, sending a hundred shockwaves of pleasure rushing through me.

I feel the brush of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth, and I tilt my head to give him better access.

“You’re going to come for me, Robin, and I want to hear my name while you do,” he growls so I feel the vibrations against my throat. “Scream it. Moan it. I don’t give a fuck. I just want my name on your lips while I take you apart.”

He licks up the column of my throat, and I whimper.

“Henry.”

“Louder.”

I feel his hot breath in the crook of my neck and shoulder just before his teeth sink into my flesh. My body shudders, and his name leaves my lips again as my orgasm hits in a blinding flash of pleasure.

It’s a scream.

Or a moan.

Maybe both.

He bites down harder, and my climax seems to hit a second peak, lasting so long I fear I may black out.

When it starts to pass, I come to with my chest heaving, my hands still held above my head, and Henry licking over the spot he bit me, soothing the sting. I don’t know if I ever want it to go away.

He lets go of my softening cock and lifts his hand between us, his fingers covered with ropes of cum.

As he brings his fingers to my mouth, the look in his eyes is a silent command, one I obediently follow.

Parting my lips, I stick out my tongue, and he gives me a taste of the evidence of my own release.

He licks up the cum on the other side of his hand, then our tongues meet in another deep kiss that leaves me even more breathless.

When he releases my wrists and pulls back, my gaze dips down to the bulge that’s still in his jeans.

“You won’t let me?” I ask, my voice a little wrecked.

“I’m okay,” he says with a small grin. “I just wanted to make you feel good.”

Well, I wasn’t expecting that . The man who went from shooting me twice in one night is now more worried about my pleasure than his own?

“You did.”

“Good.”

His eyes flick between mine, then down to my lips as he swallows. And then he does exactly what I expect him to do. He turns away. I wish I could say that it doesn’t hurt this time, that each time gets easier. But it doesn’t.

He walks over into the kitchen and picks up a dish towel, so maybe he’s just cleaning the rest of the cum off his hand.

But what then?

I won’t give him the chance to tell me this won’t happen again. Not this time.

After tucking my dick back into my underwear and zipping up my jeans, I turn and open the door. I rush outside, down the steps, and toward my truck.

“Robin!”

I don’t stop, though my feet stumble a little because I can hardly wrap my head around the fact that Henry’s coming after me. But having hope has only hurt me, and I don’t know how much more of that I can take.

I pull the handle of the door to my truck, but before I can open it more than a few inches, Henry’s hand comes down on the window and shuts it again. His chest presses against my back as he crowds me against the side of the cab.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just say it and get it over with,” I tell him, trying really hard not to let my voice crack and failing.

“Say what?”

“That this can’t happen again.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then, “I’m not saying that.”

There’s that damn hope again. Naive hope. Dangerous hope. The kind that’s going to leave me for dead, dying for one last drink when the well dries up.

I say nothing because I don’t want to let myself believe it.

Henry sighs as he rests his forehead against the back of my neck. “I just…”

And here it comes.

“I have a lot of shit to figure out. I need some time. Just a little. Can you give me that?”

I turn around in the small space between him and my truck to face him, his hand still pressed against the window over my shoulder.

Staring into his eyes, I see a similar kind of pain I saw there before when I wanted to touch him.

I wish I could make it better, but I can tell he’s not ready to let me try. Not yet.

“It might not be up to me,” I tell him, reminding him that the Spirit is running the show and probably always has been. “So I hope you figure it out in time. Either you’re all in or you’re all out, Henry. If I haven’t made it obvious, I’m pretty fucking all in.”

“Why the hell would you want me ?” His brows dip low as though he’s genuinely lost for an explanation.

Hesitantly, I reach up with one hand and place my palm on his bare chest, right over his heart. “Because I know there’s more beneath that grumpy, asshole exterior of yours. Which, admittedly, is pretty hot.”

A tiny grin creeps into the corner of his mouth.

“But I know there’s more.”

I’ve seen bits and pieces of the broken parts he tries to keep hidden. Slivers that he’s let slip through his cracks. I’ve gathered them all, holding on even when they cut me deeper, ready to put them back together when he finally gives me the rest. I’d rather bleed than let them go.

He moves his hand off the window and places it on the back of my neck. This time, when he kisses me, it’s soft and slow and damn near kills me. He deepens it only briefly, his tongue brushing along mine once, before he pulls away.

“I should get to work.”

I nod. “Me too.”

Reaching past me, he opens the door to my truck like a goddamn gentleman as I step aside.

Grinning at him, I say, “Told you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

I bite my lip to keep my grin from turning into a full-blown smile as I climb into the cab. He holds onto the door without closing it, staring at me for a moment before speaking again.

“If the time comes, and you have to leave…” He pauses, and I know exactly what he’s going to say by the way his mouth turns down. “Don’t wait on me.”

I give him a small smile, deciding I can bear to hold onto hope one last time. “You should already know I’ll wait as long as I can.”

The lines of his face soften like that’s what he was hoping I’d say.

He shuts the door, and I start the engine. After he gives me one last look through the window, he turns and heads back inside his cabin. I watch him go, staring at his back and wishing I could kiss away the scars there.

Maybe I’m a fool for still having hope, but I’ll do it anyway.

For Henry.