“Reality is better.” Emotion and pulsating desire consumed her as she slid her hand over the hard muscles of his butt cheek and wrapped her legs around his hips, guiding him inside her.

His low groan washed over her, and then he began moving. This time, when his mouth met hers, the kiss was different. All-consuming as he swept her away to a place where they’d once lived. A safe space full of trust and of possibilities. Each movement was slow but with the intent to tease and to offer pleasure. He thrust as if he meant for her to feel all of him, and she did—every single glorious inch, until her back was arching and her toes were curling. He tangled one hand into her hair. With the other, he pinned her hip to the blanket below. His eyes—oh, his eyes simmered with hunger.

“Sullivan,” she moaned.

He answered her with a low growl. His thrusts becoming harder, faster, as he grew harder insider her. They moved together, a steady rhythm, slapping skin against skin, his moans echoing hers. Until the pleasure became too much—so much, so good—taking her to the place only he’d ever taken her. Right over the edge, where she utterly let go. Only then did he follow her.

Sometime later, she found herself lying on her side, spooned by him. She wiggled back into him, catching her breath, and his arms tightened further around her.

A sweet, comfortable silence settled in. One Clara didn’t want to let go of. How many times had she wished and prayed that Sullivan would hold her like this again? For this one moment, she let her guards fall and allowed her young heart to relish in his safe hold.

Until he broke the silence. “What happened after I left?” he asked.

Reminded of the past, she processed his question, realized she’d heard him right, then flipped over to face him. His eyes were soft, curious, his hair damp with sweat. “Why are you asking that?”

His voice was sleepy, rough. “I want to know what you went through.”

Thinking that right now, for Mason and to finally heal, they needed only the truth between them, she indulged him. “It wasn’t pretty,” she told him honestly. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes,” he said, adamant.

It occurred to her that while she was doing her own type of healing to mend past hurts; he was too. Because she knew he needed it, she let herself go back into the past, to a day she’d thought she’d never recover from.

Clara pulled up to Sullivan’s childhood home. Tears flooded her face as she stood on the front yard, staring at the house that had once held so much love. Why did his mother have to die? Why couldn’t they cure cancer? Why did Sullivan have to leave?

Her feet moved, bringing her to the front door. Her knuckles knocked. Everything felt dream-like, slow and unbelievable. No way this could be her life.

The front door opened. Sullivan’s dad remained rooted in the doorway, his eyes bloodshot and his hair long and ragged. “Sullivan’s gone,” she heard herself saying. At Kurtis’ silence, she yelled, “He’s gone. Did you hear me? He left me because of you. He’s gone!”

Kurtis simply blinked.

Anger boiled inside her. She clenched her fists at her side. “Now you have nothing to say? You were so cruel to him, but now that he’s gone, you’re silent? How fucking dare you? Your wife would be ashamed of what you’ve become.”

“It’s good he’s gone,” Kurtis growled. “Don’t ever come back here.” He began to close the door.

That barely in-check rage burst wide open, and before Clara could stop herself, her clenched fist tightened, and using all her strength, she punched him, hearing a loud crack. Her knuckles crunched, and she screamed against the pain blasting through her fingers. Blood poured from Kurtis’ nose as she screamed at him, “I will never forgive you.”

Her cries faded from her ears as Sullivan asked, “You punched him?”

She blinked, realizing she’d told him everything without filters, and noted the tightness around his eyes. “I did, and I broke a couple fingers too.”

She held up her hand and showed him the two fingers. He examined them, running his thumb across the crooked parts before his gaze met hers again. “What happened after that?”

With a sigh, she tucked her hand between her cheek and the pillow. “I guess your neighbors saw, or had been watching, probably because they worried about me, and they ran over and pulled me away then called the cops.”

“Did the cops do anything?”

She shook her head. “They had to take me to the station for a report, but of course, they never pressed charges. For one, your dad didn’t want me charged, and Hayes’ father was totally on my side.”

Sullivan watched her for a long moment. His expression revealing nothing. He eventually asked, “What made you go to see him in the first place?’

“Honestly, there were a million reasons. I was so angry and hurt that you were gone, and at the time, I wanted him to know that. To know that it was all his fault you were gone. That your mother would have been so ashamed of him. That I was ashamed of him.” She hesitated, trying to put into words what had been an emotional mess at the time. “I wanted him to feel accountable, I guess, but things changed after that day.”

“Why?”

Warmth filled her chest, and she smiled, hoping Sullivan saw all of her happiness. “Because I found out I was pregnant with Mason. It’s weird, you know, but the timing of all of it was crazy. The day before I found out, I booked a plane ticket to come out to see you. I thought if you could just see me, then we could make it work.”

His brows rose. “You came out to Boston?”

Tags: Stacey Kennedy Three Chicks Brewery Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net