Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
RHYS
“You okay?” I breathe.
“Yes,” she gasps, nostrils flaring, pupils blown wide.
The world narrows to the sound of our breathing. The tremor of her fingers at my waist. My hands slide beneath the hem of her burgundy shirt, finding warm skin and soft curves that nearly undo me.
She lifts her arms. I tug the shirt free. My mouth finds her through the thin lace of her bra, and her breath stutters softly against me.
My hands shake slightly at the clasp because somewhere along the way this stopped feeling like sex and started feeling like trust.
Still not sure what the hell I’m doing. But I’m completely hers.
My tongue circles her, tasting the salt of her flesh, and her inhale shakes. I lap and tease her, suck and bite, pulling back just enough to make her gasp.
Then, I’m on the other side, hands working, sliding over soft flesh, down to the spot where I know she needs me. Her hands are in my hair, on my back and shoulders, fingernails sliding softly over my flesh. Goosebumps rise along my skin, blood pumping, mind foggy.
I push her jeans down just enough to touch her, and the first stroke through her warmth nearly wrecks me. She opens for me immediately, breath catching against my mouth.
My body strains, hard as granite. Wanting her feels less like desire and more like starvation.
I stop for half a second, forehead against hers, trying to hold on to the last shreds of control I have left.
“You sure?” I ask again, rougher this time.
Her eyes lock onto mine. “Yes.”
I find her lips again, filling her, setting a rhythm she can’t ignore.
“I’m clean,” I grunt against her mouth, feeling her grip my finger when I slide inside. All heat and velvet and so damn wet I can barely think.
My thumb slides through her slickness, circling her clit. She moans into my mouth, hips bucking. Her walls tremble, sucking me deeper. She’s ready to come. That slams into my chest hard.
“Yes, Rhys.” My name on her lips is fire. The kind that gets into my veins and won’t leave. “I’m clean and on birth control.”
I swallow too loud, pulling back slightly. My eyes meet hers, dark and dangerous. “You want me wrapped or raw?”
“Raw.” Her voice cracks.
God.
I sweep her into my arms. She gasps as I set her down on the cot, head to the wall, legs facing me.
I sink between her knees, sliding her thighs up over my shoulders. Anticipation shimmers in her eyes as I slide two fingers inside. She moans, head rolling back as I stroke her, head disappearing to where she needs me.
I hesitate at the last second, breathing her in, savoring every part of this. The way she’s trusting me with this, sweet and devastating.
She screams the first time I touch her. Already so swollen, so sensitive beneath my tongue.
I learn her slowly with my mouth and hands, memorizing every sound she makes, every movement of her body against mine. Her walls flutter around me.
Yes.
Fuck, yes.
Her hand grips my head, pressing me hard against her as she comes, drenching my face and beard. I don’t stop tasting her, working her with my hands and tongue until she’s breathing too fast, body jointless and sated.
When I sit back on my heels, wiping my beard with one hand, she sits up, pulling me back between her legs. Her wanting me like this. Her showing me in so many little ways that she’s into this the way I am.
That’s everything.
I slide up to her, my forehead touching hers. She palms my face, thumb stroking over my beard.
We’re lost in each other’s gazes now, breathing the same air. Caught in the same fragile moment.
It could stop here. It would be enough for me. Just this.
Her looking at me like I’m still worth touching. But her eyes don’t stop there. Still thirsty, still asking for more.
And I can’t say no to her. I realize that now. Too damn late.
I hover over her mouth, not sure what she wants. Her lips find mine, tongue sliding into me. Tasting herself on me.
My boxers strain, desire curling at the base of my spine. I pull them free, desperate for release. She eyes me hungrily, wetting her lips.
God.
But I have to feel her fracture around me again. I have to please her, show this is more than grief or desperation or loneliness.
This is me choosing her despite every reason not to.
The realization slows me down. Makes something inside me go almost reverent.
Her arms wrap around my neck, legs around my waist, and I lift her from the cot, pressing her back against the wall, eyes searching her face. All the shields between us finally gone.
“This still what you want?” My voice drops at the end.
Her hand grips my cheek, her lips bee-stung and slightly parted. “Yes, Rhys, you’re what I want. And what I need.”
My vision blurs. Can’t help it. I feel too many things at once, and she sees it. Sees into the vulnerable parts of me. The weak ones I never show anyone.
And she holds space for me. For this.
I grip her hips and ease into her slow, forcing myself not to rush this. Her breath catches, eyes fluttering shut as she takes me inch by inch.
“That’s it,” I whisper, kissing her temple. “I’ve got you.”
I pause, just listening to the sound of our mingled breaths.
When I move again, deeper this time, she clings to me as if she doesn’t know where she ends and I begin.
I push the hair off her cheeks, feathering kisses over her face. “You’re doing so good, taking me so well, baby girl.”
Baby girl. Those three syllables shift something in her face, eyes melting, breath coming faster. I press into her again, pull back. Easing her through every inch of it.
“Yes, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper, looking away when I’m fully seated. She pulses around me, swollen and hungry. Ready to unravel me, one thread at a time.
I don’t move, enjoying the top of the precipice. The moment before we freefall together. Then, my fingers catch in her hair, eyes locking as I move slow and insistent. Her legs tighten at my waist, ankles locked above my ass.
There’s nothing in the cabin. No sound, no distraction, just the sound of our bodies crashing into each other… until she breaks around me, screaming and clawing my back.
I thrust once more, eyes closing, body surrendering. I fill her in hot waves.
“Sloane.” It’s a prayer. That’s the only way I can describe it, voice breaking at the end.
Because losing her now would carve me open in ways I couldn’t survive twice.
Tears streak down her pink cheeks, chin trembling, breath still coming too fast. “Rhys,” she whispers, pressing kisses along my neck. Over the scar like she thinks touch alone can undo years of damage.
I move her to the cot, and we lie down, tangled up in each other. Nothing will ever be the same.
My fingers comb through her burnished gold hair, falling all over again. Because this I don’t dig my way out of. This I don’t come back from.