Chapter 20 And Then You #2
Lifting me to sit atop the sideboard, he wrapped my thighs around him, dragging me right to the edge until what he wanted and how much he wanted it became unbearably apparent.
My blood sang in my veins at the feel of him pressed against me, awakening even the numbest parts inside—the places that hadn’t felt alive in months, that I thought were gone forever.
The places that hoped for more.
They ached with the stinging prickles of restored circulation, painful but necessary. I’d been half-alive when I came to him last spring, and unbeknownst to him, he’d spent the better part of six months waking me up…only to admit he planned to die despite it all.
Why did that only make me want to hold him tighter?
His mouth demanded submission, and I relented to the faint traces of peppermint and whiskey tickling my senses. Every breath held more of his scent, his very essence. Heat zapped down each nerve ending. Frantic need took the place of my common sense.
I tore at his shirt while he ripped mine over my head.
He yanked the straps of my bralette down my shoulders until it circled my waist, then palmed one breast. His thumb dragged pleasure over the peak until I arched into his touch.
Sound collected in my throat, some combination of a moan and a plea.
He swallowed it with another bruising kiss.
My nails made red lines down the strip of exposed skin between the panels of his shirt before I attacked the buckle of his belt and the zipper beneath.
Fevered and feral, I threw my head back when his mouth dipped to my neck, exposing the most vulnerable area of my body to this lethal predator.
He kissed the spot my pulse pounded hardest, where the life-giving artery coursed just below the skin.
His tongue trailed over it, then his teeth as I tightened my legs around him.
I wanted him closer. Needed it. Around me, on me, deep inside me.
And he knew it.
He felt it too.
I could sense it in his manic, possessive touch.
The tension between us ratcheted up. His vicious hands dove beneath the hem of my shorts, and I helped him drag them down my legs. They landed somewhere behind him as he took hold of my waist, holding me still so his gaze could rake down my body—bare chest heaving, legs spread wide for him.
God, that look on his face. I could get addicted to that look.
I recalled that day so long ago, when I’d been terrified of what he might do to me. I remembered his answering frustration.
If I want to fuck you, I’ll make it obvious.
This was obvious.
This was a man desperate for the relief my body could give him.
This was Lucas Scott screaming his desire into the void.
My heart pounded in my throat, in my head, deep in my center where my blood turned to molten gold, glowing at that hunger on his face.
I was captured by the savage want in his eyes—the want for me.
I couldn’t look away from it. Not when he caught his lip between his teeth.
Not when he pulled himself from his briefs, fisting his length.
Not when he braced his hand on the wall behind me.
Not even when he took my hip in a tight grip and thrust deep inside me.
I sucked in a breath at the invasion. Exquisite and excruciating at the same time. Wrong. Right. Black. White. I didn’t care about the dichotomy. I wanted to dive into him and mix us both into gray.
Through it all, I kept my eyes on his, and finally, aquamarine lifted to mine.
Slow. Dark. Greedy.
He moved, dragging in and out, painting his name all over me with each thrust. His mouth touched mine again, but not in a kiss. It was as if he couldn’t help himself, like he needed to breathe me into his lungs, just like I needed him.
We existed in a desperate place, a dangerous place, one we likely wouldn’t survive. But Lucas Scott held out his hand, and instead of running, I took it. I gripped tight and let him pull me right to the edge of his knife.
The precariousness of it all wracked me with foolish despair, and I wrapped myself around him, arms and legs, fingernails clawing to keep him there—right there—even though it was impossible.
A powerful arm encircled me, and his thrusts grew longer, deeper, harder, hitting a spot I didn’t even know existed.
The glowing spot.
I didn’t want to come.
Not like this.
Not when I knew the end would come shortly after, and with it, the destruction of the tentative peace we’d forged between us. There would be nothing but friction between us now, and I didn’t want to learn whether we would strain to keep away from each other or fight to stay together.
But just like every other encounter with Lucas, my desires surrendered to him. He wanted my orgasm, so he got it. He ripped away the shreds of restraint I still possessed and tossed me onto a new plane of fiery, torturous pleasure.
The intensity took me by surprise, like a gunshot to the heart. The air wrenched from my lungs to make room for a sizzling wave of ecstasy unlike any climax I’d ever known. It burned down to the very core of me, installing something inside that belonged solely to him.
Waves of pleasure swelled and crested, and I rode each one to its peak, mindless with the desire for more…now…forever.
I was breathing hard against his neck when I returned to myself, and he used my body to find his own release, withdrawing and spilling onto my abdomen with a low groan.
Foreheads pressed together, we breathed in time with one another, letting the seconds stretch and snap around us.
Then he looked down.
He stared at his spend, dripping down my skin. His thumb dragged through it, smearing it across the indents from the band of my shorts.
I peered into his face as it grew paler and paler, and the last thing he said drifted through my mind.
You make me want to live.
His focus trained on the mess he’d made while I closed my legs and hastily pulled my bra to cover myself. Any rays of vulnerability I might have glimpsed disappeared as he stepped back, tucking himself away. The bleakness in his eyes gave way to something utterly dispassionate, and he met my gaze.
“This isn’t a love story,” he said in a dead voice.
I crossed my arms and ankles, wishing for more cover, but my clothes were strewn across the room. “I know.”
“This is a tragedy.”
I swallowed, and my reply emerged thready. “I know.”
Retreating further, he scraped his fingers through his hair, the gold ring flashing in the candlelight. Ocean eyes latched onto me. He looked caged. Hunted.
“Lucas—”
He raised a hand to cut me off, sharp and precise. With one last glance, he turned and left, closing the front door softly behind him.
I blinked at it, waiting for him to return, but seconds and then minutes passed with nothing but silence.
When goosebumps chased themselves over my arms and a small shiver wracked my frame, I slid from the sideboard, but I didn’t reach for my clothes.
Instead, I fled into the master bedroom and checked whether Lucas had found a way to power this house’s water heater.
The stream from the sink ran for thirty seconds before it warmed, and illogical tears sprang to my eyes. My bra landed in a mangled heap on the floor, and I stepped into the hot shower.
Only then did I allow myself to cry.
The tears were silent but profuse, dripping to mingle with the water as it made jagged rivulets down my body. It washed away all evidence that Lucas had ever been there, and my heart didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or cry harder.
When the warmth faded, I stepped out and raided his drawer of Sophia clothes, using a T-shirt to dry myself, then throwing on the sweats he liked best. After retrieving the note I always kept on me from the pocket of my shorts and tucking it into my bra, I sank onto the bed, uncertain what to do.
My mind wanted to relive it—every burning moment, each desperate kiss—but my heart wasn’t so sure. It seemed to sense I’d stumbled into something far out of my depth, and it whispered to be careful.
You’ve suffered so much, it said. This will end in pain.
Eventually, I crawled into the bed, curling up in the same spot I’d lain after Lucas told me about Tekqua. As I shut my eyes, I thought of the Lucas from my dream all those months ago.
He’d warned me to watch my blindside.
Why didn’t I realize that he was the one standing there?
The next morning, I woke alone, and my heart sank.
Had I really expected him to return? What deranged reality was I living in, seriously?
Before the disappointment could morph into more tears, I forced myself out of bed and into the morning sun.
My bike sat in the exact place I’d left it, and on my ride, I let the chilly fall air serve as a slap to the face. A wake-up call.
Lucas was right.
Last night changed nothing. It just made me face some hard truths.
I didn’t want him to die. I wanted to keep him.
A dreamer’s hope, of course—nigh impossible—and my abused heart had already begun to ache at the impending loss.
When I returned, headquarters looked the same, yet entirely different. Prisoners had been given cots that lined the hallways. Eventually, they’d be taken to safe houses, but each needed an examination and treatment before being cleared for transfer.
I tiptoed through the hall, hoping to reach my tiny private sleeping space before anyone saw me. Theo, however, caught me at the top of the stairs. His stern face took in my appearance—oversized sweats, ratted hair—and his mouth turned down.
“I expected you back last night,” he said.
“I got distracted.”
His penetrating stare saw far too much, so my gaze dropped to his feet. Hiding like a coward.
“My office,” he said and turned.
I followed him with hands wringing, wishing I’d at least had a chance to brush my teeth. He shut and locked the door of his office behind him, then took his place at the desk.
He didn’t sit, so I didn’t either. “Does he have any additional information for us?” he asked.