Chapter 23

Eyes burning at his tender words, at the way he’d said her name with reverence, Zoe traced the hard planes of his body. The muscles in his back shifted as she worked her way down to his taut ass, over his hips, and around to where they were joined.

God, how she loved his body.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled. Tension and restraint coiled him, radiated off him in waves. His fingers of one hand clenched hers and released, only to cup her jaw while he slid his other arm between her hips and the mattress. The shift drew them closer, nudged him deeper, and she bit her lip.

His familiar scent of warm male wove around her, the fine hairs on his chest teasing her nipples. Every nerve became hypersensitive as he slowly withdrew. The thickness of his shaft glided along her walls and she felt every inch of him retreat. Oh, and he had a lot of inches. Not so huge he hurt her, but yeah...deliciously filling. When nothing but his tip remained inside her, she made a sound of protest at the loss.

He dipped his head and kissed her cheek. “Shh,” he whispered coarsely against her ear. “I’ve got you.”

Grabbing the back of her knee, he raised her leg and cinched it higher up his back, holding her thigh to keep it there. He thrust inside her, filling her again, and the new angle stole her breath. Every fluid stroke ground his pelvis against her clit, his shaft rubbing a tender spot inside her. Still sensitive from her previous release, she could barely withstand the satisfaction building, the graceful way he moved.

He opened his mouth over the tendon on her neck and increased the pace. She loved the quiet sounds of arousal he made, the way he sometimes held his breath as if unable to take the pleasure. His body grew more rigid and she assumed he was close. She wrapped her arms around him, holding her to him. But he wouldn’t let go, was waiting for…her, she discovered.

Close, she was so close. Warning tingles shot up her spine and she arched, taking him deeper. She hadn’t expected much endurance on his part or to come again. Not after how long it had been for both of them. Time and frequency would take care of the rest later, but she should’ve known. He didn’t just have a strong body, but mind as well, and he would not take from her without giving first.

The arm beneath her moved and he wrapped his fingers around her other knee, spreading her wider and…

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Yes, there.”

She bowed, tensing for the onslaught while chanting his name. Harder, faster, he drove, all while keeping a rhythm meant to decimate. Fluent, graceful, his beautiful athletic body moved over hers. Tension knotted her belly and she gasped, straining on the cusp.

“You feel so damn good.” He nipped her earlobe, and as if understanding what his low, hoarse tone did to her, he spoke against the shell of her ear again. “The things you do to me, Zoe. Come, honey.” He let go of her legs and one hand fisted the pillow, the other tilted her chin to give him better access to her neck.

Tremors tore through her with each stroke of his tongue, mimicking what he was doing inside her. And she exploded. She cried unintelligible words and promises as the release went on and on and—Oh my God—on. Straining, she banded her limbs around him, clutching him to her, and riding out the current.

He barked a sharp cry against her skin and caged her head between two straining biceps. Rigid, he froze above her, then pumped with vigor before gently slowing.

Slumping, he kept his face buried in her hair, breaths soughing while she dare not move lest she shatter the moment. That was…that was…damn. Her brain was mush, her circuits fried.

He unfurled his fingers from the pillow, only to white-knuckle it again. “Sweet Christ.” He groaned and turned his head to kiss her cheek, leaving his lips to linger. “Sweet fucking Christ.”

A laugh built in her throat. Delirious, it escaped, shaking her chest. “My sentiments precisely.”

Carefully, he pulled out, removed the condom, tossed it in the bedside trash, and looked down at her. She was still wrapped around him like a bandage and his weight was deliciously welcome. Satisfaction and traces of awed humor looked back at her. His dark eyes scanned her face while he stroked her jaw.

His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head once and kissed her instead. Framing his face with her hands, she deepened the kiss. Sentiment and emotion poured through him as if he were claiming her, making a point. Days, years passed as it went on until she couldn’t ever remember a time they weren’t exactly as they were, together.

With a sigh, he pressed his lips to her collarbone and rested his head between her breasts. His fingers idly stroked her ribs while she played with the thick softness of his hair. Stretching her legs out, she settled in, content and warm and safe.

“Am I too heavy?”

Smiling, she hummed. “No. Stay where you are.”

He went quiet for a beat. “There’s so much I want to say to you right now.”

“Is one of them good night? Because that orgasm did me in until sunrise.”

Her chest rumbled with his rough laugh, then he sighed.

Sensing he was at unrest, she rubbed his neck, his back. “What is it? You’re thinking too hard.”

He briefly smiled against her skin. “That’s the thing, Zoe. I can think of little else but you.” Lifting his head, he set his chin down and leveled his wary gaze on hers. “I have this awful feeling you don’t understand there’s no going back for me.”

Air hissed between her teeth and she rubbed her eyes. “I do know.” Or she’d suspected. No matter how they played out, there would never be anyone else for her either. Except he’d had his one true love already, but he’d always be hers. So many what-ifs hovered in the distance. “Hand to God, Drake. I’m doing everything in my power not to hurt you.”

“And there’s my other point. You’d never hurt me.” He nodded when she looked at him. “You don’t have it in you to cause anyone pain, especially me. Talk to me. Tell me why you’re so intent on hurting yourself for the sake of supposedly protecting me.”

They’d discussed this to death, and he knew her reasons. But she’d skirted around the underlying factors he was probably ignoring. “You want a family, and the potential for that was taken from you with Heather’s death. There’s still time, but not if we stay together.”

With a frown, he rose onto his forearms. “What are you talking about?”

“DNA, Drake. If I carry that mutation dementia gene, I run the risk of passing it to my offspring.”

He studied her a long beat, gaze penetrating. “Adoption, then.”

“I’m thirty-one years old. Mama was in her late forties when she started exhibiting symptoms. They can present at any time. You really want to put a child through that? Because I don’t.” She sighed, her heart heavy. “I’m not having kids. And that’s what you want most.”

Closing his eyes, he rubbed his jaw. “Zoe.” Staring at her, a war over his needs and her circumstances waged across his face. “You don’t know what that test will say.”

“And you need to quit living in denial and accept what the result might be.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she ran her fingers over the tension lines on his forehead and said the one thing she’d been holding back for too many years. “I love you.”

His shoulders deflated. “Zoe—”

“Stop.” She shook her head, knowing exactly what was coming next. “I love you and I know you inside and out. Don’t you dare tell me nieces and nephews will be enough, that you’ll adjust your dreams for me. Even if the test comes back negative, Mama is my responsibility. She’ll be out of rehab soon. You’ve seen what she’s like. That’s no environment for a child.” Her chest hitched. “Do you understand now? Do you get it? I’m not trying to be stubborn or pessimistic. I’m drowning in reality.”

Chest rising and falling, jaw ticking, he stared at her through desolate eyes. The longer he stayed silent, the greater the sheen grew, until his eyes were red with unshed tears. He made a noise like a caged tiger and dropped his forehead to her breastbone. Fists clenched, he growled again. Huffing, he vibrated while obviously trying to get himself under control.

“I swear to you, I’ll find a way around this.” He lifted his head, set his palms on the bed by her shoulders, and hovered over her. “If I have to change your goddamn DNA myself, I’ll fucking do it. Because I love you right back. I did not claw my way out of grief only to find you and have someone I can’t breathe without taken from me again.”

She squeaked in an attempt to pull oxygen into her lungs. Holy, holy cow. With his fierce alpha side barely in check, she almost believed he could bend time or shift space to his will. But the fact remained, no matter how badly they might want something, that didn’t make it true.

But her childish pathetic heart latched onto what she’d always secretly dreamed he’d say. “You love me?”

His expression softened, smoothing the fear and rage from his handsome face. “Are you kidding me? Yes. I love you.” His gaze darted back and forth between her eyes. “Now it’s time for you to understand me. No test or anything else is keeping me from you. We will work this out together.”

She almost believed him. Raising her head, she pressed her lips to his until the last of the strain in his body eased.

He brushed his nose with hers. “Tell me again, honey.”

“I love you.”

His thumb traced her lower lip as if he were trying to savor the feel of her words and not just the sound. “Then nothing else matters.” Tilting his head, he kissed her until oblivion hung in the balance. His lips dragged across her cheek to her neck. “You.” He moved to the other side. “And me.” Open-mouthed kisses rained over her throat. “From now on.”

“Them’s fighting words.” Arousal heated her skin, made her throb.

His warm breath fanned her breasts as he laughed. “Damn right.”

He latched onto her nipple and she gasped, holding the back of his head as if that would be enough to keep him with her. He shifted to the other breast and she moaned, dragging her heel up his leg to his ass.

Groaning, he reached for another condom, sheathed himself, and slid his arms behind her back. “Hold onto me.”

She thought he meant metaphorically until he lifted her and she discovered he’d meant it literally as well. Cool air rushed her skin as he rose onto his knees, shifted his body to lean against the headboard, and brought her to a complete halt against his chest while she straddled him.

Gaze on hers, hands firmly on her hips, he paused. His tip nudged her opening and her lids fluttered closed. She sunk her fingers into the flesh above his pecs while he kept her suspended between heaven and hell.

“Drake, please.”

His chest expanded as if that was exactly what he’d been waiting to hear. And in one breathtaking thrust, he filled her. A needy whimper raked her throat and she opened her eyes to find his locked on her. Heat and torment and promise shone through the depths. He moved his hands to her thighs, gradually sliding them toward where they were joined.

God, the way he touched her. Like he was learning and memorizing while seeking enjoyment.

She eased back to take him deeper and ground her hips. A tremor of need fizzled through her veins. No one made her ache, made her want like Drake. She explored his athletic body—the wide, strong shoulders, ripples of abs. A runner or swimmer’s build. Perfection. His muscular thighs beneath her flexed, and she lifted her gaze to his.

Through hooded eyes dark with passion, he studied her in turn. As his gaze raked over her, his chest moved with rapid pants. “You’re beautiful.”

Throughout her life, she’d been told that many times over. Perhaps because of her gypsy heritage. But he was the first person to have her believe it or, at the very least, not question the words. She took his wrists and guided his hands to her breasts. With hers over his, she rocked her hips.

As if by instinct, he rose to meet her, and the connection was brutally breathtaking. She set a rhythm and he followed the dance, thrusting up as she came down over him. Tension built in her belly and she closed her eyes, tilted her face toward the ceiling. God, he filled her. Everywhere.

Even without looking, she knew he was watching her, and something about that heightened her response. An awareness crept into her, coiled, and sped her heart rate. Brows pinched, she parted her lips, whispering words of encouragement.

He moved one hand to her lower back, the other to where they were joined, and she imagined his intent gaze taking in how he drove inside her, how she rode him with abandon. Throbbing, her breasts grew heavy with desire.

His thumb circled her clit, and she cried out as her body splintered. Light and sound fractured. Time screeched to a halt while she all but convulsed with the violent release.

A groan, and he straightened. His chest crashed against hers. His arms wrapped around her back, hands holding her shoulders from behind. His mouth teased hers, open and poised as if in shock. And then he pulsed inside her, body rigid as he came, hips rocking to pull every drop of pleasure.

Dizzy, delirious, she wove her fingers through his hair and opened her eyes. His lashes fluttered, and she was met with dark chocolate. He stared at her, unwavering. Like he was lost and found, in agony and bliss, satisfied and hungry.

With a shaking hand, he cupped her cheek. “I can’t breathe.”

Her throat closed at his honesty. Because she knew the implication, what he’d meant. He’d said the same thing the night of Heather’s funeral, and he was telling Zoe now. Somehow, he’d learned to function again after his wife’s death, but now he was right back to square one.

Fighting to draw air.