Chapter 21 #3
He pulled back from her to stand at the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the sides. “Stay!” He barked the command at her when she tried to lean back on her elbows to watch him. “I’m too close to the edge, Daleyza.”
There was a vast coldness that surrounded him. The irises of his eyes turned from their piercing silver to a gray, like clouds gathering before a great storm, the wispy tendrils gliding over pockets of blue and black that played hide-and-seek inside the dominant color.
Her body bucked in surprise when, without hesitation, he slid his hand between her panties and her skin, two fingers gliding inside her.
Already, her body welcomed him home, into the nebulous relationship they now found themselves in.
Her hips continued to pulse as shock waves coursed through her with each stroke, the heel of his hand colliding with her clit.
The friction sent her consciousness spiraling outward, each wave increasing in size and speed, but packing itself tighter and tighter together, until she collapsed against the mattress in completion.
Toeing off his boots and unbuttoning his pants, he dropped to his knees and dragged her panties down her legs.
Through the haze of her ebbing pleasure, she felt something firm, yet gentle, tease the nub at the apex of her thighs. He wasn’t done. He was never done with just one implosion from her. He always demanded more, and with each demand came greater pleasure.
A shudder passed through her with each swirl of the tip of his tongue.
As the muscle continued to orbit the sensitive nerve center, the heat built within her, sparked, flared, and caught hold, showering down upon her a warm rain of emotion.
A soft wave of energy rippled through her.
Not less pleasurable than the first, but more powerful because of its lack of intensity.
“Please,” she moaned.
She would argue that she didn’t know what she asked for, but her heart knew. Her body craved his touch, from head to toe, inside and out, and it wasn’t hesitant to beg, if necessary.
Skin smoothed against skin as his palm slid along the outside of her thigh, past her hip, continued over her torso, and upward to her throat. His body followed the path his hand traveled until they were once again chest to chest, hip to hip.
The moment her scent, which clung to his lips and face, reached her nose, she flushed with arousal. Always aware of her responses, knowing fingers wrapped around her throat and squeezed a fraction tighter, locking their souls together.
Somehow, while he’d tortured her with his mouth and fingers, he’d removed the rest of his clothing, and she felt his hard, hot cock against her mound, throbbing, as if eager to slide inside her and make her his again.
In a single thrust, he embedded himself deep within her.
After a moment of recognition passed between them, he began to withdraw and return to her channel.
The edges of her eyesight began to swim with a mix of light and heat.
Even after all this time, he still knew exactly where to touch her, how hard or soft to apply pressure, how fast or slow to move, in order to make her burn upward, outward, and then detonate into a state of both destruction and creation.
They were powerless to stop what was between them from the moment they met. Two poles, north and south, drawn to each other despite the distance between them all these years.
As she crested the endorphin high of her orgasm, he followed directly behind her, pouring himself inside her womb.
She felt more than heard him murmuring into her neck, where his head was buried.
The telltale pulses and twitches within allowed her to fall back into herself, sated both physically and emotionally.
All she wanted now was to crawl as close to him as she could, latch onto him, and bask in his warmth and comfort.
When his own heart rate and breathing calmed, he slid over her body to lie on his back, an arm thrown over his eyes.
Nerves fluttered like dust after it was violently disturbed. Instead of dropping back comfortably to its original resting place, it weaved on the air currents, settling in new places. Self-consciousness took over.
She had initiated, so there was no one to blame but herself. Had she made a mistake?
Afraid to look at their actions too closely beyond physical needs, she rolled over on her side, away from him, curling in on herself, and closed her eyes.
Like a terrified kitten, if she couldn’t see the problem, it didn’t exist. If she didn’t move, he wouldn’t know she was there.
Perhaps he’d fall asleep, and she could flee the space without him knowing.
Then, in the morning, they could pretend it hadn’t happened.
The very thought of doing so made her chest ache.
A rustle of skin moved against the material covering the bed. The mattress shifted as he sat up, then stood.
Before she knew it, she was being picked up from the bed, heard the covers being pulled aside, and then she was lying on the sheets and being covered by the light comforter.
The shadow disappeared.
Silence.
She’d pushed him too far. He was…
Crawling back into bed behind her.
Arms snaked around her, gathering her close, their bodies lining up into long-remembered patterns. His lips rested at her ear, his warm breath wafting across the shell.
But there was a tenseness between them, one even worse than what had existed before arriving in Los Angeles, because now she was uncertain how they were supposed to continue.
He’d made it very clear that after they rescued his friend, she would be assigned a new city to live in.
A new life. There’d been no indication that he would be any part of that, even though it was clear he could be if he wanted to.
All her life, she’d been outspoken. If she wanted to say something, she said it. If she wanted to know something, she asked. Sometimes she was able to hold back out of self-preservation. Right now, she had so many things she wanted to say. So many questions she wanted to ask.
For whatever reason, the questions were lodged in her throat. There was no fear of reprisal from Ildefanso. Even when he didn’t like what she’d had to say, he listened to her. Treated her words, thoughts, and feelings with respect. That didn’t mean they hadn’t argued over things.
Memories flickered deep inside her mind.
Oh, yes, they’d certainly argued. Heated discussions, often loud, but also passionate.
Their arguments hadn’t ended with doors slamming, each other in isolated rooms. They’d ended, usually with items destroyed, but also with them tangled in the sheets, laughing over their own stubbornness.
Sometimes, he even picked a fight just to get her wound up when she got too serious, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t done it once or twice herself.
“I can feel your brain in overdrive,” he murmured sleepily against her head. “Don’t think. Sueno, belleza.”
She didn’t want to sleep. Sleeping would make her little bit of time with him pass so much faster.
“I’m not cold, like you. I’ve never been able to shut down the way you could. Time doesn’t change everything.”
The thumb that stroked lazily back and forth on her forearm suddenly stopped. “You think I’m shutting down right now?”
Looking straight out into the room at the wall across from her was the only way to continue this conversation. “Aren’t you?”
The sigh he let out felt weighted. His forehead rested against the back of her head, his warm breath now against the nape of her neck. She felt his lips moving, but no words came from them, so he was speaking in silence to himself.
“It’s all right, Fanso. Stop punishing yourself.”
The room went cold, as if it responded to his mood.
“What?”
“I understand. We all cope differently.”
“I didn’t mean I needed an explanation for what you thought, although I do, and we’ll get to that.” He leaned up onto his elbow, then turned her stiff body onto her back. “You told me to stop punishing myself. What were you talking about?”
Looking up into his eyes, she gathered her courage and pushed through her unease. “Whenever you talk silently to yourself, you’re upset with yourself. Blaming yourself for something. Whatever you were punishing yourself for just now, it isn’t worth it.”
He stared at her for a long time.
She continued. “You used to do it all the time. Whenever you thought you made a mistake with Tobias, or you returned from a conversation with your brothers, sometimes even when you came home from a trip, you talked to yourself without sound. I never saw you do it in public. Only around me. Or when you thought you were by yourself.”
“I didn’t know… I never thought you…” He swallowed. “I should have known. You were always more attuned to what was around you than I thought.”
With a derisive laugh, she reminded him, “You knew my father and brothers. I had no choice but to be aware of my surroundings.”
The smile that formed on his face was slight and a little sad. “It still amazes me to this day that you made it relatively unscathed to the altar.”
“Trust me. There are days I’m just as surprised. My mouth got me in trouble too many times, and then, apparently, it got you in trouble.”
“You were fire on top of fire. Even if we hadn’t been manipulated up to the altar together, I’ve often thought that had we met otherwise, I would have wanted to pursue you.”
His free hand traced from one collarbone to the other, his eyes following the path as he spoke. He seemed to be battling something inside himself. Thinking about what to say.
“But you’re wrong about why I was speaking to myself.
It wasn’t about punishing myself. I’m coldhearted enough to be beyond that.
When I’ve decided on a particular action, even one I know is wrong in my heart, but right in the moment, I’ve never wavered.
Only our creator has the ability to punish me for my sins, and I’m sure I’ll answer for many things when my time comes. ”
Afraid but needing to know, she asked, “Then what are you doing?”
“Talking to myself silently is the only way I can apologize for whatever I’m about to do.”
Turning slightly on her side, she raised a hand to rest against his jaw.
The stubble forming there abraded her palm, reminding her of other parts of her body that burned from its touch earlier.
“Apologize for what, Fanso?” Another thought came on the heels of his words.
He had said, “whatever I was about to do.” Moments ago, he’d been apologizing for something.
Her eyes flicked nervously between his, and she withdrew her hand to clutch the comforter covering her.
“What are you about to do?” she whispered.
“You’re everything a man should want by his side. Smart. Passionate. Strong.”
The words “should want” hung in the air between them.
She withdrew completely, emotionally, mentally, and physically. Rising from the bed, she didn’t hide her nakedness. Inside, she locked down the hurt. The absolute pain of rejection.
“I’ll be ready to go in the morning. No need to wake me.”
She gathered her clothing from where he’d flung them in the heat of their lovemaking. Then, with every ounce of dignity she possessed, she exited the room, crossed to the guest room, and closed the door.
When it locked behind her, the click was the loudest sound she’d ever heard. It was so much more than ending their time together tonight. It was shutting him out. It was locking him away from every part of her.
It was a kill shot she saw no hope of returning from.