Chapter 25
Jericho
I'm in so much fucking trouble.
I knew it before I got into bed with her. It's what caused the hesitation in the first fucking place.
I've always been a man capable of stopping and taking a breath, working out how different scenarios have different endings, but Aspen has always fried that part of my brain. With her, I've always struggled to analyze outcomes. My body craves hers. It always has, and her betrayal, the one that doesn't seem as sharp and painful right now, doesn't seem to matter.
I know this doesn't fix anything long term. This isn't a solution to a single damn thing as far as the future goes, but I can't seem to resist the urge to be right next to her.
We're safe here, so I can't blame my proximity on needing to protect her.
My body aches for her in a way it never has with any other woman who came before her or the ones who came after.
She changed everything for me all those years ago and it seems I still haven't fully recovered from it.
I'm in the bed, lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling, but we haven't touched each other yet.
I know where this goes. I know it's only a matter of minutes before we touch, and once we cross that line, I'm going to lose all damn control of my mind. She’ll own it all, just like she did all those years ago. I can try to fight that pull but the time for action was when I came out of the bathroom.
If I had any chance of making things different, it would've been me getting dressed and leaving this room. The second I stepped up to the edge of the bed, the outcome was already written in stone.
I could argue in my head that I can have a taste of her again and still have the ability to walk away, but I know better. I knew when I laid eyes on her for the first time in that alley, before she walked away, that I was still in her fucking web, just as I know there's a very real chance I'll always hate her a little for the control she has always had over me.
Unlike years ago, she makes the first move, placing her warm hand over my heart, and I swear the damn thing grows in strength, pulsing harder as if trying to break past my ribs and reach for her touch.
The second I feel her lips press against my bare arm, it's over. I know there's no turning back. I shove away all the doubts and all the whispers in my mind telling me this is just too dangerous to survive. With her near, the scent of her skin all over my bed, I can't resist. When I turn over to face her, dropping my hand on her hip, I realize I don't even want to try.
I want my mouth on her skin.
I want her taste coating my tongue.
I want her whimpers and moans in my ears for eternity.
"I'm nervous," she confesses.
"About what?" I ask, thinking that it gives me a little more time. Honestly, I'm a little nervous too, but this time, there's no risk of interruption.
I don't have to worry that what we're about to do will get me killed. There is no one creeping around the house trying to catch us in a compromising position. I can slide inside of her and not have to leave for hours if that's what we want.
"What does this mean?"
If there were ever a question capable of stopping me in my tracks, it would be that one.
"This doesn't change anything," I tell her honestly, and hate the way my words draw an instant tear to the corner of her eye.
I brush it away with my thumb and cup her cheek.
"This doesn't fix anything," I whisper, needing her to hear the truth. But even as the words leave my lips, my heart beats harder as if gaining strength despite the huge hole she left in it years ago.
"Okay," she responds, but I can hear the heartbreak in her tone.
I can't fix that. I can't be responsible for how she feels. I can't let her tangle me up and keep me from seeing what's best for everyone involved, but then she leans forward, her lips brushing over mine for the first time since that day, and I'm blind to everything around me but her.
"Peach," I whisper, angling my head forward when she pulls back an inch.
I feel tormented by her kiss, distressed that it will be all that I get from her. She can hit the brakes at any second, leaving me a desperate man begging for just a little more. When she shifts her body, lining it up with mine, I know that she's going to give me so much more than one single brush of her mouth.
My fingers on her hip curl, gripping the t-shirt she's wearing, as I lean in closer and press my mouth to hers.
She grants me entrance when I sweep my tongue over hers, and the groan that rumbles from deep inside of her shoots cold chills all over my skin.
As much as my body is urging me to roll her over, lift her ass, and climb inside of her, I take my time, unsure if this is the only time we'll get this opportunity. I want to savor it. I want it to last forever.
She rolls her body against mine, the pressure of her clothed body against my erection not exactly the kind of attention I need right now. As much as I want to take things slow, there are some parts we can rush past to get to the really good stuff.
"Off," I grunt, reaching for the hem of the shirt she's wearing and pulling it from her body.
"Wait, I—"
Her hands rush to cover her stomach, but I see the marks left behind from her pregnancy.
"I'm not the same," she says, her eyes looking anywhere else but directly at me.
"This," I say, tracing one of the stretch marks. "This is evidence that our son grew safely inside of you, Peach. There's no shame in that."
I know without asking that Damien had a problem with her body after Eli's birth. Why else would she be so self-conscious about it?
I fucking hate him even more for it, but at the same time, if he was disgusted, maybe he stayed away from her.
I cup her breast and lean forward again to press my mouth to hers, rolling into her and pressing her to her back on the mattress.
Sweeping my hand down, I slip it under the borrowed boxer briefs and cup her ass, urging her leg up on my hip so I can press harder right against the center of her.
Even with two layers of fabric separating us, I can feel the heat of her. It makes me insane with the need to shove inside of her.
I pull back, levering myself up on my knees, and look down at her. Jesus, she's fucking perfect. With just the sight of her, I know I won't be the same after tonight.
"Lift," I urge as I grip the waistband of the boxers.
She obeys, angling her hips up a few inches so I can pull the boxers free from her body.
"Jesus," I pant, staring down at the center of her.
She's glistening. Two kisses and she's ready for me. I sweep my thumb up the seam of her, having to roll my bottom lip between my teeth to keep from moaning with need at how slick she is.
She whimpers, her hips rolling and lifting in need of more pressure.
"Be strong," I whisper. "You know I'll take care of you."
Aspen gave me so many firsts, and despite feeling like a crook who stole those things from her all those years ago under false pretenses, I still greedily took all that she offered. I'm no less desperate to have them all again.
"What are you—oh God," she moans when I lower my mouth to the tip of one breast, sucking it into the warmth of my mouth.
I want to spend years worshipping her body, but at the same time, there's this need inside of me to claim something I've been missing for years and years.
"Hold on," I tell her as I reach down and position myself at her entrance.
Just like she did that very first time, she wraps her arms around me as far as they can go and curls her fingernails into my skin.
Her back arches, perfect breasts inching up higher into the air when I press inside, and I swear my nuts seize immediately.
The grasp of her body along my length is something I could never forget, but the memory of it pales in comparison to the actual feel.
I grind my teeth and press my forehead into her shoulder, begging whatever deity might be listening to give me more stamina than what she's about to rob from me.
It's pure fucking heaven, and my resistance earlier had a lot to do with this. I knew how she felt. I knew what power she always held over me when I was balls deep inside of her, and even now, only a few inches in, I'd consider being at her beck and call for the rest of my life just for the promise of this right here.
I tell myself I deserve this, that I've been a good man. I've saved, protected, and sacrificed. My entire life has been spent helping others.
I cling to that, knowing when all the dust settles, I'll be left alone once again with nothing but memories to last me until my last breath.
"Need to move," I whisper, my voice hoarse as if I've spent the last week screaming into the wind.
Instead of answering me with words, she lifts her other leg and wraps it around my thighs, opening up to me just a little more.
"Nolan," she whispers, and for a second, she pulls me completely out of the moment.
I stare down at her. It's the first time we've been like this with her knowing my real name, and it complicates things that much more. Maybe staying Luke to her would've been better because those two syllables on her lips make me want things I know better than to hope for.
I push all the way inside of her, watching as her mouth drops open, her eyes scrunching a little at the corners as if she's in pain.
"I can't help it."
"I know," she pants. "Just give me—"
She moans when I pull back again.
Her eyes say a million things, but I can't let myself get lost in them. I'm already going to be clinging to her and praying she never lets me go again when this is done. I can't waste a second making the mistake of thinking this could be more. It can't be. Our lives are too different. Her choices are literal scars on my skin, and although I could see spending the rest of my life inside of her, I don't know that I'll ever be able to forgive her fully. That's no life to spend with someone.
Instead of keeping things close and intimate, I lift my upper body and settle back on my calves, leaving her legs wide and open for me.
Pressing my thumb to her slick clit, I swirl tiny circles over that sensitive bundle of nerves, grinning down at her when she squirms both to get away and to get closer at the same time.
"I need you to take it, Peach."
She dips her head, back arching further, and I swear the first clench of her pussy around my cock, indicating the beginning of her orgasm, makes me lose even more of my mind than I have to spare.
I lift her, balancing her on my thighs and holding her in place as I press into her over and over until my orgasm is right on the edge. With the first pulse of my release, I lift her off, coating her lower belly with cum.
I stroke myself until I'm drained, loving the way I look left behind on her skin.
Her chest is heaving as much as mine is, and although we both got off, I also feel like I need to apologize for how quickly it ended.
"You want to get a shower?" I ask, helping her from the bed when she nods her head.
She walks toward the bathroom, but I can't bring myself to follow her. I know sex is intimate, but somehow the shower would be stepping over just one more line I shouldn't cross with her. Just sex is one thing, but is that even possible when we have a son together?
Maybe this was an even bigger mistake than I originally thought it was going to be.
I don't go into the bathroom to clean up until she walks out of there, showered, and wrapped in a towel.
To take away the questions in her eyes, I hand her back the t-shirt and boxer briefs I pulled from her body, letting her know the expectation is that she get redressed.
Then I head into the shower, taking my time.
She's asleep when I come back out, making it easy to climb into the bed and face away from her.