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.