She sucks in a breath and freezes.
“You smell like…” She gasps, and her entire body locks up. “Why do you smell like whiskey?”
“Breathe. Deep, slow breaths.”
Her chest heaves, and sudden, convulsive intakes of air pull more of my whiskey-scented breath into her nose. She chokes and tries to push me away.
The pencil and journal drop to the ground, and I follow them down, arranging her to sit sideways on my lap with her shoulder against my chest.
By the time I position her, she’s in full panic mode, thrashing and sobbing and ripping my heart out.
“I’m with you, Conor.” I hold her tight against me, breathing against the side of her face. “Don’t fight it. Let it out. Purge it. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
She sobs and struggles in my arms for an agonizing eternity. Then her battle wanes into low, keening cries, soaking her cheeks and trembling her body.
I curl her fingers around the pencil and set the journal on her lap, silently urging her.
A stretch of reluctance lingers before her walls break, and her grief explodes in a brutal flood.
She talks while she writes, detailing the horrors of his abuse—every slap, punch, kick, and hateful word.
As I absorb her vicious memories, the backs of my eyes burn. My blood runs hot, and adrenaline crashes through my veins. But I keep my mouth shut and my hands gentle, caressing her arm and stroking her hair.
An hour later, the sun touches the horizon, and Conor sets aside the journal filled with pages of her flashbacks from Chicago.
She curls up against my chest, breaths even and muscles languid. “You’re very patient with me.”
“I want to do this right, and the process is important. Besides, I know what’s waiting at the end of this.”
She turns in my arms and peers up at me beneath wet lashes. “What’s that?”
“You, where you need to be, with who you’re meant to be with.”
“I love your persistence.” She edges closer, resting a palm on my cheek and hovering her mouth a kiss away. “I need that, Jake. Even when I’m fighting you. Especially when I’m fighting. I need you to not give up on me.”
“I won’t. Never.” I take a sip of her sunset lips and lean back. “Can you taste the whiskey?”
She nods, and little lines appear between her eyebrows. “I don’t like his scent on you.”
“It’s not his scent.” I kiss her again, just a brush of mouths and breath. “We’re making new memories. The next time you smell whiskey, think about this moment. The grass beneath your legs. All the colors in the sky. The way we feel together.”
“I’ll think of Whiskey and You.” She glances at my phone, where the song plays on repeat, and returns to me. “Sing to me, Jake.”
With a soft smile, I intone the lyrics in the deep, rumbling drawl she loves.
The longer I sing, the quicker her breathing becomes, her nose pulsing wider to accommodate the change in airflow. Her pupils dilate, and those lustrous green eyes hold me in such an intense, lingering stare I grip her hips and position her legs to straddle my hips.
Head down and cheeks slightly flushed, she rests her gaze on my mouth. “I think… I want you to—”
I devour the rest of her words, shaking as they bloom into an electrifying rush of heat through my body.
There’s a hunger in her that matches my own, an expectant urgency that collapses the air between us.
I eat at her lips, ravenous to sink deeper, reach farther. She tastes like my girl—raw and wild like the land around us. A heavy groan rips free, and my cock strains against my zipper.
I can’t fuck her. Not until she knows why I’ve been protecting her and what I’ve done to keep her alive. When we have sex, I want it to be honest, fully open, with nothing between us.
But I have no qualms about stripping her bare and making her come.
I don’t know when my hands started roaming or how my teeth drew blood. Maybe she’s the one biting, but I taste the coppery essence on our tongues like molten fire. Our combined need hammers at my control, making me crazed and greedy.
Reaching behind my head, I yank off my shirt and spread it over the grass. She trembles on my lap, her lust-glazed eyes shining with anticipation.
I swing her around and lay her out on the shirt.
“It’s been six years.” My hands shake as I release her fly and slide the shorts down her legs. “Six years since I’ve seen your body.”
“Jake, I need…” Her skin flushes a delicious shade of pink as she tugs off her top.
Up until this point, I’ve managed to control myself. Not easily. But I haven’t fallen on her like a rutting animal, despite how badly I want to shove inside her and fuck the shit out of her.