34. Cato #2
I hesitate for half a second, then move. The moment I’m close enough, he pulls me down onto the bed beside him. I try to be careful of his injuries, but he doesn’t let me keep any distance. He turns toward me, cups the back of my neck, and draws me in.
“Why are you acting weird?”
“Because I don’t know how to do this,” I admit. “Relationships aren’t my thing, and I’m fucking panicking because you’re eventually going to realize how bad I am at it.”
He studies me for a long moment. “Take your sweater off.”
My brows pinch, but I sit up and yank it over my head.
“Now the undershirt.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Just do it, Cato.”
I lick my lips, trying to read him, but eventually obey and toss it aside. My torso is bare now—softer than his, with the swell of my chest and the extra weight I carry in my belly.
Aryn’s eyes rake over me appreciatively before he nods at my pants. I hold his gaze as I stand and shove them down, leaving me in just my underwear.
His eyes linger on my thighs and cock before drifting up to my face. “Come back to bed.”
I slide under the sheets beside him and lie on my side, facing him. “What was that all about? If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just said so.”
“It was because you like being told what to do,” he says, so gently it takes a second for the words to land.
I pull back slightly, mouth parted and cheeks burning. “What does that mean?”
“Cato. Come here,” he insists again.
Something warm and fuzzy unfurls in my chest. I stare at him for a long time, confused by how much I want to listen. My whole life I’ve only ever wanted to fight.
But I don’t want to fight him.
His eyes soften as he reaches over to brush his knuckles along my cheek.
“You carry so much responsibility. Ever since you were a child, you’ve been expected to be the one who acts.
One-night stands are easy. They’re simple.
But relationships are hard, and commitment feels like another thing you have to carry.
So for your entire life, you’ve run from them. ”
I don’t say anything. I just watch him while my heart tries to hammer its way out of my chest.
“You don’t have to carry me, Cato.”
“Fuck,” I choke out, tucking my face into the side of his neck to hide the burn behind my eyes. “How do I keep you if I don’t?”
He hums softly, nails brushing against my scalp. “Be honest with me. Do you like it when I tell you what to do?”
“Yeah,” I admit, barely above a whisper.
“Then lean into that. You can be a wildfire and burn the world to ash when we’re out there in the thick of it. But when it’s just the two of us, you can turn it all off. You can let me carry you for a while.”
My tongue feels too thick, sticking to the roof of my mouth as I force a swallow. “It doesn’t make me…”
“Make you what?” he nudges gently when I trail off.
“Weak?”
He hums softly, then tightens his grip in my hair and tilts my face up to his.
“No, kitten. It just makes you mine.” He guides me forward, capturing my lips in a kiss that wrecks something deep inside my chest. It starts gentle, just the press of his mouth, but then his lips part and coax mine open.
His tongue brushes along mine, and the kiss deepens.
My mouth moves on autopilot, dominating in the way I’ve always told myself I need to be—that I have to be—and Aryn doesn’t stop me. He said I could turn it off, though.
That I could just… be.
I ease back, eyes sliding open to find Aryn watching me like he’s memorizing my every reaction.
A heavy sigh passes from my mouth to his as I find his wrist and guide it to my chin with shaking hands.
Understanding flashes in his eyes as his fingers tighten.
I don’t fight the way he tilts my head exactly where he wants it.
I just let him lead, giving in to the electric current that runs through me every time he takes control.
It doesn’t feel like submission.
It feels like surrender.
Once I get a taste, it spreads through my body in a dull, pulsing ache that builds low in my gut. It spreads outward, all-consuming and inevitable. I can’t do a thing to stop it. Not a single fucking thing.
Why is that so freeing?
Our tongues move together, tasting and exploring, and the kiss turns hungrier.
I feel everything like it’s the first time, like I’ve never been kissed or touched—and fuck, he’s touching me, teasing down my stomach and gripping my chin.
I fall into it, experiencing the pleasure without the least bit of control. A passenger in my body.
His hips rock forward, pressing his thickening cock against my thigh. A sound leaves me I’ve never made before, a desperate, keening thing that begs without words. His hands tighten on my body and he moves to hover over me, eyes nearly glowing in the firelight.
Then he winces.
I pull back, sluggish as if I’ve woken from a trance. Aryn rests his forehead against mine, breathing ragged. “Gods, I want you,” he whispers, then lets out a frustrated growl so low it vibrates through his chest.
I blink a few times, head swimming like I’m half-drunk, and press another kiss to his frowning mouth. “And you can have me… when you aren’t injured and loopy from painkillers. You need to rest.”
“Not even tired,” he argues, right before his jaw cracks open in a long, deep yawn.
“That was very convincing.”
Aryn’s eyes close with a heavy sigh as he snuggles into my side. “Your sarcasm is loud.”
“Always is,” I agree.
He presses a soft kiss to my neck. “Was that okay?”
“That was…” I trail off, and he pulls back to watch my face. “Good. Really… yes.”
He studies me a moment longer before kissing my lips so softly I barely feel it. “If you’re ever uncomfortable with anything we do, or if you get overwhelmed, you tell me.”
“Okay,” I whisper as I tuck him back into my neck.
“Tomorrow,” he mumbles. “We’ll explore this more tomorrow.”
“You’re still injured.”
“I’ll be better by then.”
I chuckle quietly. “Of course you will.”
He hugs me tighter, and I let my body settle against the warm line of his. It shouldn’t be this easy. Nothing in my life has ever been this easy. Years of refusing to rely on anyone have made me forget what it feels like to actually need someone.
My brain keeps trying to tell me I shouldn’t need him.
Shouldn’t need the solid weight of him beside me just to breathe properly.
Shouldn’t need the steady sound of his heartbeat under my ear before I can finally let go.
But I do.
Even as my arm falls asleep beneath his weight, I don’t move.
I just lie there in the quiet, listening to his breathing even into the slow rhythm of sleep.
Those empty places inside me are suddenly so full they ache.
I don’t need the noise to drown them out, or the adrenaline to help me forget them.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel complete.