THE GREEN IN his eyes blazed hot, anger written all over his perfect features. No, not just mere anger. It was rage. And I could understand it. The life he’d had, the promise of a future, had all led to a hospital bed, agony and scars covering forty percent of his body.
It wouldn’t have happened if he’d been left to follow his own path. If he hadn’t been forced to carry other people’s dreams. Not his. He’d never been allowed to have any, had he?
If he’d been given time to decide his own future, what would that have looked like? What could he have been?
My heart hurt for him. For the pain he’d gone through and what he was still going through. And I was angry too, at what had been taken from him, and all because he’d chosen to save his father from a burning house. A father who’d then abandoned him.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. It was what had happened to me, and it was lonely.
It made you feel shitty, and worthless, and for him, battling terrible injuries, to then be abandoned...
No wonder he was so angry.
My own anger at him, at the way he’d cut me loose, was still there, but it seemed petty compared to what had happened to him. And all because he’d been afraid of what I would think of him...
A tear slipped down my cheek.
‘You should have had that,’ I whispered. ‘You should have had that life of your own.’
His eyes glittered. ‘Yeah, well, I didn’t. And perhaps it was karma. For being a selfish asshole.’
‘You’re not selfish.’ I slid my hand along the side of his jaw, up into the short strands of his hair. It was thick and soft, and I gripped on tight. ‘You weren’t given a choice, and that’s not right.’
‘They worked hard for me, Mom and Dad. To get me where I was. They sacrificed a lot.’
‘Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?’
A muscle leapt in the side of his perfect jaw. ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t seem fair to get angry with them when all they wanted was a way out.’
‘You weren’t a way out, Eli. You were their son.’
He said nothing for a long minute, staring down at me, the green glitter in his eyes sharp. His beautiful face was so grim, as if he hadn’t done much smiling in the past few years. As though he didn’t even know how.
‘And you were my hero,’ I went on, wanting to take his anger away, see him smile. ‘I remember once when I was quite young, and you were playing computer games with Traj, I went and had a look inside your school bag to see if you had a superhero costume in there.’
Something faded and shifted in his eyes, and there was a silence.
‘No way,’ he said eventually.
‘Yes way. I was very disappointed when I couldn’t find one. I thought you probably wore it under your clothes.’
‘I wasn’t any kind of hero, Vee.’
‘You were to me. You were my friend, Eli Hart. And that’s pretty much the same thing.’
He still didn’t smile, but his expression had changed, moving from anger to something else, something intent and hot. A fierce look sent fire licking all over my skin.
And abruptly I was sick of talking, so I pulled him down, his beautiful mouth on mine. But I didn’t want it fast and desperate, I wanted it slow and sweet. I wanted to show him what he meant to me, so this time it was me who showed him what I wanted. I touched his lips with my tongue, getting him to open for me, and then began to explore, hot and slick. Got to savour the flavour of him, rich and delicious, like the truffles he’d fed me just before.
He went still, letting me kiss him. Letting me nip at his lower lip and bite. Letting me kiss him deeper, harder, dragging a growl from the back of his throat.
I’d been angry with him for so long, but I wasn’t angry now. How could I be angry with him when he was so obviously angry at himself?
I put my hands on his broad shoulders and I pushed hard, breaking the kiss so I could shove him onto his back. He let me—because there was no way I was strong enough to have pushed him if he hadn’t wanted to be pushed—then I straddled him, my thighs spread over his narrow hips, the hard ridge of his cock nudging the soft, sensitive skin of my pussy.
He reached for me, but I grabbed his wrists and pushed them back up on the pillow on either side of his head. ‘No touching,’ I ordered, watching his face to see if he’d allow this too.
That hard mouth quirked and satisfaction filled me at getting an almost-smile from him. ‘If you don’t want me touching, you’d better get working,’ he said.
For an answer, I covered his mouth with mine, holding his wrists down on the pillow and leaning forward so my weight increased the pressure. Then I kissed him deeper, harder, more demanding.
I could feel him tense, and I broke the kiss again, but only so I could kiss his jaw and the strong column of his neck, paying extra attention to the lick of the burn, using my tongue to trace the edges of it. And then down further, over the patchwork of scar tissue across his chest. He wouldn’t be able to feel it, but he could certainly see my mouth on his skin, kissing him. Adoring him.
He nearly died. You nearly lost him.
I put my hand on his hips, holding on to him as if he might slip away, trailing kisses all over him, closing my eyes against the threat of tears.
But he hadn’t died. And he was here with me. Vital and warm and alive. And just for tonight everything was allowed, surely?
Will one night be enough?
Of course it wouldn’t be. But it was all I had right now, so I’d take it.
I kissed right down his body to the hard and proud length of his cock, and I kissed along that too, worshipping him.
He growled a low, deep rumble and, before I could do anything more, he shifted beneath me and suddenly I found myself on my back with him above me, our positions reversed.
‘Hey,’ I said breathlessly. ‘You promised no touching.’
‘I didn’t promise. And rules are made to be broken.’
He bent and took my mouth the way I’d taken his, feverish, hot and slick.
I arched up beneath him, wrapping my legs around his hips, his cock sliding against my bare sex, hitting my clit and sending showers of sparks cascading through me.
He rocked against me, teasing us both, making me pant against his mouth as the sparks became flames licking up inside me.
Then, just when it became too much, he pulled away, reaching for one of the condom packets on the nightstand. He ripped it open, sheathed himself in seconds flat, then came back over me. He reached for my hand and guided it down between us, wrapping my fingers around his cock, and I knew what he wanted me to do without him saying a thing.
I lifted my hips and fitted him against me, then I guided him inside.
There was no pain this time and only a little sensitive soreness. But I was so wet I barely felt it. He slid in as if he’d been made for me, fitting me so very perfectly, and then he paused, his chest rising and falling fast and hard.
He looked down at me and I met his gaze, the amber in his eyes glowing. Staring at me the way I used to stare at him, as if I was the best thing in his life.
My heart contracted even as my sex tightened around his cock, gripping him, holding him to me. I lifted my hands to him but he shifted again, turning us both once more until he was on his back with me straddling him again. His hands were heavy on my hips, holding me down on him.
‘Show me, Vee,’ he murmured.
He didn’t explain, but I didn’t need him to. I showed him what was in my heart.
I began to move on him, rising and falling, his hands guiding me in a rhythm that was at first strange, then interesting and then thrilling. I put my hands on his chest and stroked him, glorying in the scars, the rough with the smooth, and the hard muscle beneath it. In the heat of him. Loving how tight his jaw went and how his gaze was glued to mine, as if he couldn’t look away.
I took his hands and guided them to my breasts and he stroked me, his thumbs circling my aching nipples, providing the most incredible counterpoint to the sensations that were building between my legs.
It was so good. The pleasure made me shake.
I put my palms on his chest and leaned on it, moving faster, wanting more friction, rocking my hips and I could hear his breath catch as the movement gave him more pleasure too.
I loved the sound. Loved that I could do that to him—make this god of a man catch his breath due to the pleasure I was giving him.
I loved him. I always would.
But this isn’t for ever.
I shoved the thought away, refusing to let it ruin this moment, going faster and faster, chasing the climax that hovered just out of reach. His eyes burning into mine were a deep gold now, his expression so fierce. Hungry. Making me feel like a goddess.
Then he slipped one hand between my legs, finding my clit, giving me the extra sensation I needed, and the climax hit me like a wave, lifting me up so high I swore I could have touched the sky.
I cried out his name, my whole body rigid, a lightning rod for pleasure. I ground down through my body and into his, and I heard him growl.
His hands on my hips tightened and, as I rode through the last few pulses of pleasure, he turned me again so that I lay beneath him. And then he thrust hard, fast, as he found his own pleasure.
He groaned out my name, his hands sliding beneath me, gathering me close to his chest. Then he turned his face into my neck, his breathing harsh and wild, his big body shuddering with the effects of the climax.
I put my arms around him and I held him, my heart full and aching, tears behind my lids.
I love you, I whispered. I love you so much.
But only in my head.