Chapter Eighty-One
Feralyn
His chest rising and falling against my back, his cock and his release still deep inside me, his fingers dug into the soft part of my hip as he licked the side of my neck. Then he latched on and sucked.
“Helios,” I moaned, my sweat-slicked hands slipping on the handlebars as his seed started to seep out of me.
His teeth grazed, and his tongue swirled before he released my poor, abused flesh. “Woman.”
“You’re leaving more marks.” After a week, my neck, my breasts, between my thighs—they were all covered in them.
“Your fucking point?”
I smiled despite my better judgment. “What am I supposed to do the next time we go somewhere in public or when I need to take photos for clients?” Or we see Ares? “Wear a scarf? This is South Florida.”
“Fucking try it,” he warned, but his post-orgasm baritone didn’t hold its usual heavy threat. “See what happens.”
The image of my six-and-a-half-foot assaulter yanking a scarf off me and the indignant expression he’d make suddenly popped into my mind, and a giggle I didn’t remember I possessed, along with some of his release, escaped.
All of his muscles stiffened, then his voice came quieter than I’d ever heard it. “Christ, Haven.”
My smile, along with the imagery that was funny a moment ago, disappeared. “What?”
“Never heard you laugh like that.”
More of his seed leaked out, and I shifted around his still-hard length inside of me.
“Don’t pull away.” His hands settled around my waist. “That was fucking beautiful.”
I stilled.
Then I closed my eyes and inhaled the moment.
Damp earth, citrus trees, decaying tropical flora, sea grapes, salt air clinging to the thick humidity, and Helios.
“You’re right,” I whispered. “It is quiet out here.” His breath, mine.
Our heartbeats. The symphony of the insects that were surprisingly not biting us.
He shifted his hips, and I sucked in a breath.
His lips brushed against my temple. “Know why I needed to be inside you?”
Because he was Helios? “You needed a release?”
“I needed to take you on my land, Feralyn.”
The declaration, my name, the layers. Oh my God, the layers. Turning my head, I looked back at him and his gray-blue eyes that were more translucent in the direct sun. “Helios.”
“I’m not gonna put you in a position to fucking choose. I know you feel safe at that house. You love walking the beach at night, taking pictures of the ocean during the day. All I’m gonna ask is that you think about if you could live out here. Part-time,” he added. “Hell, even some of the time.”
“You don’t like the beach house?” I knew he didn’t like the fact that Ghost had bought it. But he’d never come out and said he didn’t like the house.
Darkness descended over his features, but then he quickly masked it. “Didn’t say that, but I didn’t give you that house, woman.”
“I don’t need you to give me anything materialistic to make this any more real between us.”
For a long moment, he stared at me. Then he jerked his chin toward his land. “It’s zoned for agriculture and residential. I can build a house when I clear a runway. Think about it.”
“Do you want to live out here?” I had to admit, the idea of leaving the beach wasn’t my favorite.
“Not fucking falling into that trap, woman. Said it was your decision.” Still gripping my waist, he pushed me down on him as he thrust up, but then he lifted me off him entirely.
The abrupt shift, the rush of his semen suddenly running down my thigh, trapped by my pants at my knees and his grip on me, I gasped as he swung me over his bike and set me on my feet.
Before I could think about what to do with the mess between my legs or how to reply to his trap comment, he’d swung his leg over the Streetfighter, done up his jeans, and was reaching for my pants.
With his cock still hard and straining against well-worn denim, Helios didn’t look any worse for the wear as he unceremoniously pulled up my underwear, then my leathers, and zipped them.
“You’re mad.” Or disappointed in me because I didn’t immediately agree to living out here. Maybe both.
“Not fucking mad, woman.” He kissed me, but it was only once, and it was a mere press of his lips against mine.
“Then you’re disappointed.”
He smirked. “Woman, my dick’s still wet from your cunt. Not fucking disappointed.” He reached for his helmet that was somehow still hanging on his handlebars.
I reached for conflict resolution. “You didn’t show me the pool.”
Abandoning his helmet, he turned. Then he leaned against his bike and gave me an order. “Come here.”
I stepped between his booted feet that he’d left perfectly parted with just enough room for me to fit into his personal space.
I was recognizing a lot more now how he did small things like this all day long.
Seemingly inconsequential things that I’d never noticed before but were actually immense gestures with rippling effects.
Like how a lethal warrior was currently keeping his arms loose at his sides so I didn’t feel threatened coming up to him, not that I did anymore.
But same as he read my body language, I watched his.
I knew that when he was mad, he didn’t leave his arms loose.
He also didn’t lean against his bike for himself.
He did it so our height difference would be lessened.
“Thank you.” I threaded my hands around his neck.
He pulled me in close. “For?”
The orgasms, this life. His heart. “Giving me you.”
“Could say the same.”
“But you won’t?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I took you, woman.” He winked.
“I wanted you to.” Maybe not in all the ways he’d gone about it, though.
His expression turned serious. “I’m not asking you to leave the beach house.”
“I know.” But now I couldn’t help but think about how he’d bought an entire island, and my heart almost couldn’t take all the nuanced layers behind his decision. Especially when I was the one who loved the beach, and he preferred to not be around other people.
Now the layers had slipped apart, and I saw the eighteen-year-old who’d left for the Army on his birthday without any parent there to see him off.
I saw the highly trained lethal operator who’d stormed a bunker and killed terrorists to save me.
I remembered the exasperated, eye-rolling protector who’d finally caved a week after I’d gotten my leg brace off and taken me out to the beach—at night—because I’d requested it, even though he’d insisted we wait until daytime so I didn’t trip over shit.
And now I was looking at the man before me who wanted to build a house on his land for his woman.
I’d seen so many versions of Helios, but this one felt the most vulnerable, and that was what my heart was trying to absorb and protect—for his sake.
I smiled. “A house out here would be nice.”
“Nice,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
Eyeing me, he gave me a moment to either change my adjective or my mind.
I did neither.
He raised that one eyebrow like he did when he was suspicious. “Part-time or full-time?”
“Are you going to change what type of house you build depending on my answer?” He wouldn’t. He probably already had the plans, and it was probably a house that was larger than the beach house because that was who Helios was.
He smirked. “No.”
“I didn’t think so.” I stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Build your house. I know it’ll be amazing.”
“Our house,” he corrected, possessively grasping the back of my neck.
I liked the sound of that. “Our house.” I smiled again.
“Woman.” He kissed me.