Dark Child (Wild Men 5)
Merc sits close to me, holding my hand, and just like that, I’m a part of it. Of the group. Of the present, and somehow the past. Part of Merc’s life.
No, I’m not taking it back. He hasn’t said he loves me, but I don’t need to hear it, I decide. I can see it, feel it in his every word and gesture, the way he leans toward me and seeks my gaze, reading my face every time he asks a question or makes a decision. It’s as if he’s aware of me all the time, even when he’s speaking to someone else, thinking of something else.
Being the focus of Merc’s attention is electrifying. It’s like flying too close to the sun. Let’s hope these fragile wings will hold.
Then again, since he’s my own private sun, maybe I’ll let go and fall into him in a blaze of glory. I stare at his beautiful mouth and realize how much I missed him the few days I was away, how much I missed kissing him, touching him, feeling him inside of—
“We’re heading home,” Octavia says, tearing me out of my overheated, gutter-oriented thoughts. “When do you want to go?”
“To Destiny?” Merc asks.
“Anyplace else you were thinking of visiting?” Jarett drawls.
Merc shakes his head, chuckling. He’s looking much better after his sugar-heavy breakfast of donuts and coffee. There’s color in his cheeks. “Tomorrow?”
Of course. He needs to sleep those chemicals off. I’m glad he didn’t announce we’re going today, now. I’ve seen how stubborn he can be, refusing to admit he was in trouble, going sleepless night after night.
Now he’s set on solving the mystery, and I have a feeling he won’t let go until it’s done.
From the glimpses he gave us of those dreams, I can understand why he held back until now. What would you do if you found out that your nightmares were real?
It takes a lot of courage to face the possibility, face your worst fears—not that I expected anything less from Merc.
Our gazes meet as he pushes up from the table, unfolding that long, strong body, and my heart is full. I know I’m still young, but it is true that I’ve never loved anyone so much.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I’d very much like to spend the rest of my life with this man.
He pulls me into his bedroom and to his bed, and I switch off, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, watching him undress. He took the pills and fell asleep fully dressed last night—was it only last ni
ght? Jeez—and now he’s peeling off his T-shirt, holding me in a trance.
I swear to God, he’s doing it to tease me, the soft cotton rising, revealing the expanse of his ripped chest, making my blood run hot with need.
But he looks too exhausted for that. He chucks the T-shirt to the floor and starts on the buttons of his jeans.
Oh boy. I should help him. He totally needs help with that.
Only my phone dings with a message and I fumble for it, unable to tear my gaze off him, annoyed at whoever is intruding on this moment, intent on turning the sound off for the day.
It’s a text from my sister and I frown down at it, knocked out of the moment. In the mess of the past few days, and my world narrowing on Merc, I kind of forgot about my sister and her problems.
She’s asking if I talked to Mom recently. Why would she ask me that?
From the corner of my eye I see Merc pushing his jeans down his muscular thighs, and my breath catches. He’s wearing nothing underneath, like usual, and he’s half-hard, his cock swinging upward as he sits down on the bed beside me to finish getting his jeans off.
Good Lord. Was he always so hung? It’s always a shock to my system, seeing him bared, miles of golden skin stretched over thick muscle, those ripped abs, those hard pecs…
His blue eyes slide to me, and his mouth tilts up in a crooked grin. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you touch.”
I lick my lips, my mouth gone dry. “And if I’m bad?”
His eyes darken and his voice goes rough. “Then I guess it’s open house. I’ll punish you for being bad. Would you like that?”
A wave of dark heat rips through me and I draw a sharp breath. “Oh God…”
“Lots of walls here,” he goes on and winks. “We could do our thing.”
The thought of him taking me up against the wall never fails to get me wet and breathless. But… “You must be tired.”