His lips were silk and sandpaper all at once. His tongue smooth and stealing. I opened wider, deepening the kiss until staying alive meant breaking our connection and breathing, and I never wanted to do that.
Suicide by kiss—death by lover’s embrace—that was my choice.
Kill never stopped kissing me, never stopped touching.
My fingers itched to trace his muscles, to stroke and calm.
I paused.
He doesn’t let any woman touch him.
He sensed my trepidation, breaking our kiss to look into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I laughed self-consciously. “Can I—um, can I touch you?”
His gaze flared and the tender look on his face undid me. “Cleo, touch me. Only you have ever had that privilege. I’ve been dying for so many years to have your fingers on me again.” His voice thickened. “I was prepared to spend the rest of my life without touching, knowing you were dead. I was broken… a man who couldn’t tolerate the touch of another.” He chuckled softly. “Every time I craved companionship enough to seek out a woman, I ended up almost killing her for not being you. I was screwed up, Cleo. A fucking mess.”
Oh God.
My heart burst as his mouth reclaimed mine, stealing my reply. My hands splayed on his back, caressing every inch I could reach.
He shifted, bringing me close to his body and wedging the hard heat of his cock against my exposed hipbone. He rocked once, twice, sending a delicious sensation of need through my belly to my core. My nipples tightened as his heart galloped against my side.
Every inch of me screamed for attention. Sensitivity was both a blessing and a curse as I grew wet from his kisses.
This wasn’t like before. This was more. So, so much more.
His fingers fell to my breast, squeezing once before bowing his head and sucking my nipple.
My eyes closed; lust swarmed my system.
I squirmed as his hot tongue swirled with a delicious combination of sucking and teasing. He murmured against my skin, “I wanted you so much back then. I was a stupid fool to deny you.”
I moaned, grabbing his hair and shivering in bliss as I sank my fingernails into the thick, long strands. “Maybe if you knew what I tasted like, you would’ve recognized me when you first took me.”
His teeth graced my nipple, making my breath catch. “I wanted so much to be your first. For you to be mine.” He suddenly stopped licking, pressing his forehead against my sternum and wrapping trembling arms around my body. “I’m so sor—”
I tugged his hair, stopping him from apologizing again. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Now—right here, right now—this is our first time. No one else exists—the past, the memories, the revenge. None of it matters. Not anymore.”
His forehead furrowed as he bit his lip. A delectable flop of long hair covered one of his eyes. “Fuck, it makes me hard when you control the situation. It always did. Even when you were a bossy ten-year-old.”
I laughed, amazed that the intense sexual moment could have so many facets. “You fantasized about me when you were thirteen and I was ten?” I scrunched up my nose playfully. “That’s just gross.”
He chuckled. “You know what I mean. I didn’t want you like that. I just couldn’t… I couldn’t understand you. I couldn’t get you out of my mind—not because you were so cute with your bouncing red hair and fierce green eyes, but because of your ginormous attitude.”
His hands traced down my rib cage, his thumb skirting the hollow of my belly. He kept going, ghosting over scars and colors. His eyes burned, drinking me in, and the urge for conversation quickly faded.
My back arched into his touch.
He hissed, pressing his throbbing cock against me. “I need to be inside you, Cleo.”
My eyes snapped closed at the use of my name. A full-body tremble at finally knowing where my home was.
In his arms. In his heart.
“You like that?” he murmured. “You like it when I call you Cleo? My Cleo?”
I moaned as his mouth trailed over my jaw and down my throat. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you, Cleo? I’m going to lick every inch, inhale every part, and then I’m going to sink slowly into your heat and make you come with your legs wrapped around my ass.”
My eyes were so damn heavy, I struggled to open them to look into his gaze. “You want me to wrap my legs around you?”
He nodded, his beautiful lips wet and red. “I want your chest against mine. I want your arms tight around me, and I want your breath in my mouth. I’ve wanted you to touch me since the last time I saw you. Give me what I’ve always denied myself because I couldn’t stomach any other woman taking your place.”
“I love you!” he called from across the compound. The sun soaked into his dark hair, the floppy silky strands mussed from our make-out session behind the garage.
“I love you, too! Don’t be late tonight.”
He grinned, waving once before jogging to his house.
My breath caught at the memory. Had that been the last time I’d ever seen him?
The melancholy and confusion threatened to destroy the heat in my heart. I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him close. “I want you to look into my eyes when you slide inside me. I want you to see how much having your body in mine affects my soul.”
He groaned, kissing me hard. His lips were weapons, his tongue a tool, making me writhe and want.
I wanted him to make love to me.
“I want to steal your breath, so you only survive while I breathe for you.” The agony in his voice hurt me deep. He had so much still hurting him.
Whispering, I said, “I want you to come inside me, so I can claim a part of you.”
His eyes flared, kissing me gently. “You don’t know if you’re on protection.”
I shook my head. I did remember. A random memory to have come clear, but there it was. “I had a coil inserted a few years ago. I can’t get pregnant.”
His eyes bored into mine. He didn’t ask why I’d taken such serious measures to never get pregnant. He didn’t ask how many lovers I’d had. He just scooped me closer and breathed, “I’ve never been with a woman without a condom. Never.”
I held his cheeks, my fingers burning from his heat.
His lips parted and he pressed me bone-breakingly hard against him. We fell together, kissing, touching. My hand wiggled its way between our glued bodies, finding his hard length and cupping boldly.
I stroked him. Hard, possessive—claiming.
His mouth opened wide beneath mine, coming undone. His legs twitched and a guttural groan sounded in his chest.
My heart raced as I grew wet with power. “Do you like that? Like having my fingers around you?”
His eyes snapped tight. “You have no idea. Being touched—it feels so damn good. But knowing it’s you? My Buttercup.”
A cry fell from my lips.
Kill gathered me close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Mean to what?”
“Use that nickname. I know it belonged to your dad.”
I shook my head. “Use it. It’s yours as much as his.”
Concern for my parents hit me quick and hard.
… it belonged to your dad.
What did he mean by that? Past tense because of us, or had he died?
My heart fisted at the thought of my parents gone. Then my stomach cramped at the thought of them living the past eight years believing I was rotting in the ground.
“God, my parents.” I clutched Kill’s shoulders. I wanted to ignore the need to know—it wasn’t exactly the best time to ask—but I couldn’t stop the question falling between us like a blot of ink. “Where are they?”
The heated air between us went frigid; Kill stiffened into an unyielding plank. The tightness of his muscles and unreadable look in his eyes made my heart thud. “Where are they, Kill?”
A heavy second ticked past, then another. Finally, he closed his eyes and kissed me deeply
. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”
His lips trailed a path of fire down my sternum as he shifted his body, flattening me below. “And please don’t call me that anymore. Not when we’re alone.”
When will you tell me?
I wanted to push, but swallowed my impatience. Tilting my head, I focused on the easier subject. “What should I call you?”
He chuckled, sounding strained and forced against my collarbone. “What you called me all those years ago. I want to hear it.”
My heart thudded for an entirely new reason. His lips kept feathering, his tongue softly licking toward my breasts.
“Art. I called you Art.”
He broke his downward journey, sliding back over me to press a possessive kiss against my mouth. “Yes.”
“You want me to call you it again?”
He nodded. “More than anything.” Never looking away, he reached down and tapped my thigh. Unconsciously, I opened my legs wider, letting his large bulk settle directly between them.
My breathing turned shallow as he paused, hovering protectively over me on his elbows. His fingers dived into my hair, holding me steady. “There’s so much still to learn. So much that’s happened that you need to know. But, Cleo, not tonight.”
His hard cock nudged my entrance and I moaned at the silent question. Biting my lip from the joy at having him so close, I nodded.
Gritting his jaw, he pushed in—slowly, surely, claiming me in ways he never did when we were first in love. I’d slept with Killian, but this was the first time I’d slept with Arthur. Art. My one true connection.
There was nothing between us anymore—no latex from condoms or darkness from unremembered memories. Just us.
His eyes tightened as he stretched and filled me, the invasion never stopping until he sank as deeply as he could go. His back was bowstring tight as he released a ragged groan sheathing himself completely.
I didn’t want to move or dispel the aching, delectable throbbing of having him take me so thoroughly. His body was snug and warm over mine, his green eyes glowing in the dimness of the bedroom.
Our gaze never unlocked.
We didn’t move. But we were joined with ravenous, rapturous oblivion.
My jaw clenched, fighting the urge to rock. I wanted to savor the silence of just being for another moment—to embrace the incredibleness of finding each other after so long.
My core rippled, welcoming him deeper.
Art groaned, letting some of his weight fall on me, pressing his forehead against mine. We were both slick with sweat even though we hadn’t moved. Our bodies and hearts thrumming with energy. My tattoos were bright against the bedspread and I didn’t feel ugly with my scars. His gaze remained full of perfect love—despite me having changed since he’d last seen me.
His mouth searched for mine and the moment his lips connected, I snapped. The time for serenity was over. Now I wanted to be used. I wanted to know just who impaled me and how much I never wanted him to leave.
Gathering him to me, I rocked.
He gasped; his restraint snapped and he drove into me. Hard and strong. His hipbones bruised my thighs as I opened wider, welcoming his violence, his need.
There was a fine line of making love and fucking but this was love-fucking. This was cruel but sweet. Angry but happy. It was a thousand words in one timeless action—righting the wrongs of our past and hopefully repairing a future we both didn’t think we’d ever find.
“God, Cleo. Fuck.” He pounded harder, his grunts mixing with my cries. My fingernails clutched his hips, riding up and down with every rock.
“Yes. Art, more.”
His body pistoned into mine, trying to devour me. Tears tracked down my eyes; the world swam with desire and despair at missing him so much.
“Shit, don’t cry…” Art stopped, his large thumbs brushing away the salt on my cheeks.
I nipped at his touch, arching upright to pant in his ear. “Don’t stop.”
I couldn’t stop. I never wanted to stop.
There was nothing on earth that could get me to cease the incredible assault coming from the boy I thought I’d lost.
I cried out as he grabbed my leg, bringing it up and spreading me even wider. I thought I’d never get to touch this man—hug him or stroke as he pounded into me—but all my wishes had come true. My hands landed on his ass, clutching him harder, forcing more violence, more animalistic thrusting.
“Goddammit, Cleo,” he groaned as I dug my fingernails harder.
We were so close. Our skin stuck to each other; his heart interrupted the beat of mine until I swore they beat in unison. We were too close. We weren’t close enough.
“Kill, you’re killing me.”
“Art, goddammit,” he growled. His hands clutched the bedspread by my ears as he thrust harder. The need to come ached in every part. Every stroke of his large cock sent me higher and higher up a cliff. I wouldn’t hold on much longer.
Wedging my knee between us, I pushed Art away and hooked it over his shoulder. In one move, I delivered the rest of my vulnerability and trust, exposing where we were joined and letting him control however he wanted to drive us over the ledge.
He didn’t say a word. His eyes smoldered and his teeth landed on my leg, biting hard as he drove deliciously hard into me. His stomach clenched with every thrust, the sheen of sweet making him glow.
My breasts bounced and I knew from his vantage point he’d see everything. My scars, my ink, the love bursting in my eyes.
“Goddammit, Cleo. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
I smiled. “I do. Same thing you’re doing to me.”
“You’re in my fucking heart.”
“I’ve been there since we met.”
He grinned crookedly, his eyes heavy with dark lust. “You have. Always been there.”
His gaze fell between us, latching onto my exposed pussy. I looked to where we were joined, panting at the mind-consuming image of his large cock disappearing inside me stroke after stroke.
His jaw clenched, his fingernails digging into my leg. “I’m gonna come. I have to come.”
I nodded. “Come. Take me with you.”
Setting his jaw, he increased his rhythm, pounding and fucking until his cock stiffened and his forehead furrowed with pleasure.
“Christ…” His mouth fell open and his entire body shuddered, driving himself to the pinnacle.
Deep inside I felt the first ripple and splash of his release.
“Yes, Art. God, give it to me.”
He angled upward, his eyes clouded as he kept coming. His fingers landed on my clit, rubbing firm and determined, ripping me from my cliff and hurling me into the stratosphere.
My back bowed, my toes curled, and my own release appeared from nowhere, spooling me high, then whirling me like a spinning top until I exploded into cosmic pieces.
I gave him everything that I was. I gave him all my troubles and dreams and flashbacks. I let him save me. And at the same time saved him.
By the time the last quiver of our orgasms faded, we were both panting and boneless.
I groaned as Arthur slid out of me, gently lowering my cramped leg from his shoulder. I winced as he massaged the seizing muscles.
Soundlessly, he flopped onto his back, gathering me close and tucking me against his body. Instead of being self-conscious with the stickiness between my thighs, I relished in being cradled.
A nuclear bomb could go off and I would have no desire to move. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
Wrapping his large body around my smaller one, his hand cradled a breast. Whispering his lips over my hair, he murmured, “Go to sleep, little Buttercup.”
I sighed, battling happy tears, sad tears, confused and still lost tears, but the glow in my heart lapped up the feelings knitting them into a sated, satisfied blanket.
For the first time since I’d forgotten my world and soul mate, I fell asleep with a smile on my face and the knowledge I wa
s utterly safe.
Chapter Eighteen
I’d admitted I was a fucking mess thinking she was dead.
It was nothing compared to the jumble of thoughts I was now.
I struggled to make sense of my world.
It was no longer black and white.
I fought against the urge to hide my heart again. It was easier, less painful when feeling nothing.
But Cleo dragged me back into pain.
Pain so vibrant and intense I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move.
She was real.
She’s come back from the dead for me.
And I would do everything in my power to never let her leave me again.
—Kill
I woke to Arthur sweeping his fingers down my stomach.
My body twisted, trying to find a way free from his touch.
“You’re still ticklish. Just checking,” he murmured against my hair. His fingers disappeared, dragging me closer to spoon along his sleep-warmed limbs.
I wanted more of last night. I wanted to feel him inside me again.
“I loved coming inside you,” he said softy, nuzzling his nose against my ear. “I’ve never done it bare before. Damn, Cleo—your heat—it took every ounce of self-control I had not to come the second I entered you.”
I smiled, hugging his arm. “You felt amazing.”
“You felt like a fucking wet dream.”
I giggled as his fingers trailed up to my breast, tracing circles around my rapidly hardening nipple. “I want you so much. All I can think about is pushing your legs apart and sliding deep inside you.”
He pressed his erection against my ass, grinding himself.
I wriggled, pushing my hips against him. “Do it. Take me.”
His teeth nibbled on my ear. “Can’t. Got things to do.”
I moaned, burrowing closer, reaching behind to grab his cock.
I missed.
Chuckling, he suddenly let me go and rolled upright. I shot to my knees, trying to catch him, but was too late. With a wry smile, he jumped out of bed and stood gloriously naked and way, way too tempting. “If I give in, we’ll never leave. And this can’t wait.”