And she knew that she merely got the watered-down version of him.
There were deeper caves in his underground maze, ones that she had never visited and could never go to.
“Jane,” he said roughly. “Whatever you’re thinking about, drop it. . . . Stay with me here and now and don’t go there.”
She closed her eyes. She’d known what she was mating and what she loved. Back when she’d committed to him for eternity, she’d been well aware of the men and the women and the way he’d had them. She’d just never have guessed that that past would come between them—
“I wasn’t with anyone else.” His voice was strong and sure. “That night. I swear to it.”
Her lids lifted. He’d stopped working himself out and was lying still.
Abruptly, the sight of him was obscured by tears. “I’m so sorry,” she croaked. “I just needed to hear that. I trust you, I honestly do, but I—”
“Shh . . . it’s okay.” His gloved hand reached out and brushed the tear from her cheek. “It’s all right. Why wouldn’t you question what’s doing with me?”
“It’s wrong.”
“No, I’m wrong.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve spent the last week trying to force things to come out of my mouth. I’ve hated this shit, but I didn’t know w
hat the hell to say that wouldn’t make it worse.”
On some level, she was surprised at the compassion and the understanding. The two of them were so very independent and that was why their relationship worked: He was reserved and she didn’t need much emotional support, and usually that math added up beautifully.
Not this week, however.
“I’m sorry, too,” he murmured. “And I wish I were a different kind of male.”
Somehow, she knew he was talking about so much more than his reserved nature. “There’s nothing you can’t talk to me about, V.” When all she got back was a “Hmm,” she said, “There’s a lot of stress right now for you. I know that. And I would do anything to help you.”
“I love you.”
“Then you’ve got to talk to me. The one thing guaranteed not to work is silence.”
“I know. But it’s like looking into a dark room. I want to tell you shit, but I can’t . . . I can’t see anything I feel.”
She believed that—and recognized it as something that victims of child abuse tended to struggle with in adulthood. The early survival mechanism that got them through everything was compartmentalization: When things got too much to handle, they fractured their inner selves and stashed their emotions far, far away.
The danger, of course, was the pressure that invariably built up.
At least the ice between them was broken, though. And they were in this quiet, semi-peaceful space now.
Of their own volition, her eyes drifted down to his arousal, which lay flat up his stomach, stretching even beyond his navel. Suddenly, she wanted him so badly she couldn’t speak.
“Take me, Jane,” he growled. “Do whatever the fuck you want to me.”
What she wanted to do was suck on him and so she did, bending over his hips, taking him into her mouth, drawing him down to the back of her throat. The sound he made was all animal, and his hips jerked up, pushing the hot length of him farther into her. Then one of his knees abruptly bent up so that he wasn’t just prone, but sprawled, as he gave himself over to her completely, cupping the back of her head while she found a rhythm that drove him—
The shift of her body was both fast and smooth.
With his tremendous strength, V repositioned her in the blink of an eye, pivoting her around and shoving the sheets out of the way so he could lift her hips up and over his torso. Her thighs were split over his face and—
“Vishous,” she said around his erection.
His mouth was slick and warm and right on target, fusing with her sex, latching on and sucking before his tongue snaked out and licked inside of her. Her brain didn’t so much turn off as explode, and with nothing left to think with, she was blissfully lost in what was happening and not what had gone before. She had a feeling V was the same. . . . He was all about the stroking, lapping at her and sucking on her, his hands digging into her thighs as he moaned her name against her core. And it was damn hard to concentrate on what he was doing to her at the same time she was doing it for him, but what a problem to have. His erection in her mouth was hot and hard, and he was pure velvet between her legs, and the sensations were proof that even though she was a ghost, her physical reactions were just the same as when she’d been “alive”—
“Fuck, I need you,” he cursed.
On another quick burst of power, Vishous lifted her as if she didn’t weigh more than the sheet did, and the shift was not a surprise. He always preferred to come inside her, deep inside of her, and he spread her legs before settling her on top of his hips, his blunt head nudging into her . . . and slamming home.