When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys 2)

His words sank in, stabbing my heart and yet I felt him everywhere his body was pressed to mine.

I let him go and staggered back a step. “Get out.”

He straightened his rumpled coat and jerked his shirt into place.

“Did you hear me? Get the fuck out.” I turned my back on him.

Holden walked past me, and for a few horrible seconds, I thought he was doing what I ordered. But instead of leaving, he locked the door and then pressed his back to it.

“Goddamn it. What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you need.”

He moved slowly toward me, his eyes dark and dilated, a dash of color slashing his sharp cheekbones.

“I don’t need anything from you. You’re leaving—”

“Yes, tomorrow. I’m leaving because I have to.” The predatory glint in his eye slipped and I saw the pain beneath. His cold voice wavered. “Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now.”

“I’ll hurt you worse if I stay.” He moved closer, his gaze roaming my face, lingering on my mouth. “We have tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” I said, but my voice tapered to a ragged whisper. Because I knew what he meant. The promise of sex was all over him, as tangible as his scent and more potent.

Holden nodded, reading my thoughts. He was close enough I could feel his breath on my chin, warm and smelling sharply sweet—what I imagined absinthe would taste like. He pulled the tie off my neck and tossed it aside, and then his hands went to my belt. He whipped it out of its loops, and it’d hardly hit the floor before his nimble fingers had undone my button and zipper. I stood still, trembling with a thousand emotions; pure, unbridled want rising to the top the fastest. Desperate for escape. For release.

“You need this.” His hand slipped inside my pants, finding my cock hard and aching. He gave it a squeeze. “I’m going to give it to you.”

“Holden…”

“You need it,” he said again, his lips brushing mine. “You need to fuck.”

My blood caught fire. A growl erupted out of my chest, and I gripped him by the nape of his neck and crushed his mouth to mine. The growl melted into a helpless groan as I tasted him for the first time in what felt like years. My mouth devoured his and he opened to let me in. And then I knew what he’d planned. To let me have him like this all night. To take and take because he thought he had nothing else to give.

“No.” I wrenched my mouth from his. “Holden…”

“Yes,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly shining. Pleading. “We have tonight and then you have to let me go.”

Before I could speak, he was kissing me again, hot and hard, while he pushed the jacket off my shoulders. With every touch of his hands on my skin, with every sweep of his tongue, I gave myself up more and more. My grief and need became the same thing—a ravenous hunger. A need to fill the void he’d leave behind. Loving him and already missing him so badly.

We have tonight.

I yanked off his coat. He ripped at my shirt. Buttons clattered. Buckles clanked and clothes slid to the floor. We tore at each other while our mouths sucked and bit, angling to get as deep inside as we could. When our clothes were a pile at our feet, our hands slid over naked skin, grasping. Roaming. Our cocks straining and swollen.

I kissed him hard, holding him tight to me. Infusing every touch with heat, praying it would break through the cold of what they’d done to make him feel unworthy of anything real.

But Holden was too fucking smart. His mind too sharp, too tuned up. He felt my intentions and wrenched away from my kiss to attend to the business at hand. He retrieved a condom and a small bottle of lube and tossed them both on the bed.

“Those are for you,” he said, coming back to me, his voice hoarse with need. “Do what you want to me, River. Whatever you want.” His hand closed around my cock and he licked his lips. “Or I’ll give it to you.”

He started to sink to his knees, but I stopped him, not recognizing my own voice, panting and desperate. “No, I…I want to be inside you.”

“Good,” he whispered and reached for the condom and lube. Chest to chest, my breath rasping in my nose, I watched him roll the condom down my aching cock. “You need this,” he whispered against my mouth while coating my fingers with the lube. “I want this.”

With an inhuman growl, I roughly turned his back to me. My left arm in its cast went around his chest, locking him tight. My right hand slipped around to grip his cock, squeezing hard and stroking slowly.

“This is what you want?” I growled, out of my mind and half-drunk with him. “You want to get fucked?”