Pierced Hearts (Southern Charmers 1)

“I did, and I should have been more delicate.”

“Fuck no, you knew how to get my attention. There’s a lot we need to talk about, but I have to know, do you still think it’s your fault?”

“I don’t know. I’ll never know for sure, but I can’t help but think my mental state, my confusion and anxiety, led to the result.”

“I hate myself for letting you go through that alone.”

“It was my choice.”

“Which makes me think I need to be a part of your choices going forward.”

Her eyes fill with misery. “We messed things up back then. Even now, knowing it’s my fault, you were vulnerable to Connie. I pushed you into the mouth of a waiting shark. All the pain and heartache, all these years, it was caused by me.”

“Baby, don’t take that on your shoulders with everything else. I wish I could absorb every ounce of your pain. We’re going to find a way to let it go, together.”

Her lips part as what I’ve said sinks in. “There’s no way to do that.”

“There’s a way. I may not be able to travel back in time, but I’m going to make things right.”

“Things are right. We cleared the air and found closure.”

“First steps.”

“I can’t stay here, Pierce. I know that now. The memories are painful, but the reality is devastating. You have children with another woman, and that’s partially my fault. That will never change.”

“No, but we’ll make new memories, starting tonight.” My hands sift through her hair, tilting her face to the side. I lower my mouth to hers, skimming my lips across hers, kissing from corner to corner. Unlike the other morning, I take my time, and when I slip my tongue through, it strokes hers gently. She tastes like chocolate and raspberries, and I’m instantly hard to taste more.

I walk her backward, supporting her weight, and keep our mouths joined. When we hit the doorway to the bedroom, I end the kiss, haul her into my arms, and sit on her bed.

“Pierce—” Her objection dies when I yank the neckline of her tank down and run my thumb over her nipple. “Ahhhh,” she moans.

“Tonight, Darby. We make new memories tonight,” I repeat.

It’s easy to see she’s waging a war in her head. Her body responds to my touch, her nipple hardening immediately, and her pulse racing. In the past, when Darby had doubts about anything, it was easier to get through to her with actions rather than words. It was the intensity of our connection that could break her uncertainties and ignite her faith in me and, more importantly, in us. I’m hoping that’s still the case because she needs to understand that I’ve made a decision.

“You control this. Tell me when to stop. But right now, let me show you that you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

Her expression changes; fiery, blazing heat blisters my skin as she gives a short nod. My hand travels under the satin of her bra, caressing her breast while my mouth covers hers. We kiss lazily, her fingers scraping the stubble on my cheeks, letting me control our pace.

A round of memories assaults my brain, more reminders of how Darby Graham owned me. Not once in all the years did I ever engage in the intimacy part of sex—the slow burn, small touches, expectations of what was happening—never with anyone else. Sex became fucking with one goal in mind, getting off. Always, no exceptions. I was generous, never taking without giving, but foreplay was quick, the fuck was usually hard, and the aftermath could get awkward.

Now, I can’t get enough of her taste, the smoothness of her skin, the feel of her pressed close. There’s a primal need brewing inside, but I force it down, wanting this piece of intimacy that’s been missing.

Her breath hitches, and I break away to kiss along her jaw to her ear, nibbling lightly in a way that used to drive her crazy. She gasps, squirming in my lap, grinding against my dick. I lean us back, keeping her in my lap, propping on my elbow for support. She takes my hint, wiggling to remove her shirt and bra, and arches up. I take the invitation, dragging my lips over every inch of her perfect skin, and suck her nipple deep. She moans when I circle my tongue and scrape my teeth over the sensitive peak.

“More?” I know the answer before she even rasps her yes.

My hand slides into her shorts and instantly connects with her bare skin. “Fucking love that you still hate wearing panties.”

“Only sometimes.” Her response is low and breathy.

I glide two fingers along her slit, teasing and testing until they slide in easily. Her inner muscles clench hard.

“Shit, baby, you’re tight.” I pump them inside of her, twisting and scissoring, and she grinds her pussy down. Her breathing becomes ragged, her chest trembling under my mouth.