I shake my head. That’s the only thing I can do. I’ve reached the point where the pain of doing this—letting go of him—is spreading like an ingested poison. “Look at me, please,” he urges, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please.” I don’t obey, so Damien takes it upon himself to move my head up. “Open your eyes.”
“Why are you making this harder on me than it already is?” I cry as I reach the point where my insides crumble, crashing to the ground like a porcelain vase, pieces of ceramic everywhere.
Slowly, I open my eyes and Damien’s gaze hasn’t wavered. He’s staring deep into my eyes searching. Probing. Penetrating. Maybe he’s looking for the truth. Maybe he thinks that if he stares into my eyes long enough and hard enough he’ll sway me. He leans in closer. “You don’t want to do this,” he whispers.
“Of course I don’t,” I confess. “I love you, but this is for the best.”
He slits his eyes and his fingertips glide across my cheek, tucking a lowly tendril of my ebony hair behind my ear. His fingertips, they feel like fire pokers just removed from the hearth. They scorch my flesh and I’m surprised by how much I enjoy the burn. He backs me up into the trunk of an oak a few paces away from the road. As the rough gradient texture from the trunk scrapes against the bare skin on my back and the damp musky scent wafts up my nostrils, Damien presses his body against mine, pinning me. “Who says?”
I’m breathing heavy. Pleasure blasts through me ricocheting off the walls of my stomach. My heart beats so fast that all of my other functioning organs struggle to keep up the pace. “Who says what?” I gasp, trying to control my breathing.
“Who says this is for the best?”
“Me?”
He raises a sculpted eyebrow. “You?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“I don’t believe that.”
It’s amazing how he can see right through me. It’s amazing how all it takes for him to know what I’m really thinking is to look into my eyes. Still, I try to lie, “It’s the truth.” There’s a sliver of uncertainty in my voice and I know I don’t sound believable.
Damien’s lips are resting against my ear. “I beg to differ,” he murmurs. “Addy, living one day without you would never be for the best. I want you every minute of every day. Forever. I love you.”
I struggle beneath him and try to break free from his captivating gaze, stunning face, and his muscled body and the way it feels to have it pressed against me. I’m losing control of myself, my mind, and what I’d told myself I was going to do when he followed me on my morning walk.
A low raspy chuckle leaves Damien’s throat and for a moment, I think he may be losing it too. He grabs both of my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head in a death grip. He presses his hips harder against mine. “Stop fighting this.” His hot full lips rest against mine. “Stop fighting us.” He begins a slow, sensual dance with my mouth, starting with little teasing sweeps of his bottom lip against my top one. I open my mouth in response and he assaults my tongue tangling his with it.
Our kissing intensifies and he slips his free hand up my skirt on an exploration expedition. His palm slides from my pelvis up to my lower abdomen. My skin prickles and there’s a field of goosebumps on my arms. Love, lust, and passion melt together inside of me and I can feel the want for him swelling between my legs. “I’m so sorry,” I moan against his lips. “I love you so much.” I do and sometimes I feel like I love him so much it aches when I’m not near him. It’s like tiny pricks from a sewing needle jabbing into me repeatedly.
He releases my hands from his grasp. He leaves a trail of kisses from the crook of my neck to my collarbone before resting his lips against my ear. The warmth from his lips sends a shiver of overwhelming pleasure down my spine. It vibrates within my core and kicks my heartbeat into overdrive. He pulls me tighter against his chest and I can feel his heart beating in sync with mine.
Two hearts beating.
Side by side.
Flesh against flesh.
And an intense unwavering love between two people that will never die.
Chapter 8
~AFTER~
Someone is hovering over me. The darkness of their shadow is cutting off the spring sunshine that’s coming in through the window. I open an eye and Aurora is staring down at me. “What is it?” I groan and roll over, wrapping my pillow around my head.
“You slept in late,” she tells me. “Meds are in five.”
I wish I could say fuck the meds, but I don’t. Instead, I stretch and sit upright on my cot as Aurora prances back over to hers. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
“My God.” I did sleep in really late. Usually I’m up by seven.
“You didn’t scream last night,” Aurora informs me.
“I guess that’s a good thing, right?”