Chapter 15 #2
She said more. She argued a dozen different angles, and he patiently listened to each one. But he didn’t really hear them. He didn’t truly consider any of them. And in the end, he had to tell her why. So when she finally sputtered into silence, he told her the raw truth.
“I can’t live like this, Tonya. I won’t.”
She wanted to slap him. He saw her fingers twitch and her hand raise.
She was that furious with him, and he presented his face for her use.
It was the least he could do when she was trying so hard to save his life.
But he’d died the moment they’d slapped a chloroform rag over his mouth and thrown him into a van.
He’d died the first time they’d shoved a needle up his arm and changed his biochemistry forever.
And just because his body had come out of that cage, just because he had experienced moments of pure bliss with her, didn’t change the fact that he was a monster intent on murdering Elisabeth.
In defiance of his entire life’s work as a lawyer.
In complete disregard for the woman who stood before him radiating frustration.
And in total disgust of who and what he’d become.
“I hate myself, Tonya,” he said, his words filled with venom. “I hate the oils that stink when the fur sprouts. I hate the knobby joints and the need to rut like an animal. I hate the casual violence and the danger to everyone around me. It needs to end.”
She stared at him. “You’re talking about you, Alan. You were kidnapped and tortured. You’ve been changed against your will. What you’re feeling is all normal, and it’s all you.”
Finally, she understood. Finally, she’d arrived at the understanding he’d hit before he left the hospital more than a week ago. He hated everything about who he was now, and he refused to live constantly at war within his own mind and body.
“I know,” he said. Then, when she was going to fight him again, he pulled her tight.
He tucked her into his arms as gently and as reverently as he’d wanted to from the very beginning.
She resisted him at first, but he was determined, and in the end, she melted into him.
He pulled her close, tucked her head against his chest, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I know it’s all me. And I despise it.”
“I won’t let you do it,” she said. “I won’t.”
He had no answer. The argument was moot since he wasn’t likely to survive long enough to fight with her about it.
So rather than reach for words, he went for action.
He stroked her jaw and lifted her face to his.
Then he kissed her. He pressed his mouth to hers and gently, slowly, sweetly seduced her into opening for him.
“Let me make love to you,” he whispered between kisses.
She chuckled, the sound both funny and achingly defeated. “I think we’ve already done that.”
“No, we haven’t. Not like I been dreaming of since I was fourteen.”
She pulled back enough to arch a brow at him. “That wasn’t my fault. If there’s something you want, buddy, then—”
Her words stopped on a squeak of surprise as he swept her feet out from under her.
This, at least, was something he could thank his newfound strength for.
Not only did he lift her up, but he tossed her slightly in his arms, just because he could.
She grabbed on to his shoulders in alarm, but laughter spilled from her lips.
His steps hitched when he heard it. She was such a no-nonsense woman that he’d rarely heard her laugh. This was a low sound, like brass wind chimes on a lazy summer day. It was so delightful that he had to capture it with his mouth. So he held her over the bed and pressed his lips to hers.
She kissed him deeply. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled herself higher in his arms then opened herself completely. He plundered her as thoroughly as he possibly could.
Eventually even his shifter strength gave out and he set her gently on the bed. She didn’t let go of him, and so he went down with her, their mouths still playing. He took his time at this because, damn it, some things should be enjoyed completely, leisurely, and with a lot of joy.
He nipped at her lip, and she returned the favor.
The kisses became sloppy because they were playing, teasing each other and smiling as they licked.
Turns out her ears were unexpectedly sensitive, and he made her moan as he tugged on the right one.
By the time he’d given attention to her left, she was shuddering as she pressed her breasts into his chest.
Thank God it took no time to strip off her tank top. That left no impediment to his hands, which enjoyed every boobalicious inch.
“You have the most glorious breasts,” he said as he dropped low enough to give his full attention to them. “I’ve fantasized about these since I first noticed girls.”
“You and every male this side of puberty,” she growled. But then she curled her hand around his neck and into his hair, drawing him back to her nipples.
“But I’m the only one who gets to do this,” he said as he sucked a dark berry into his mouth.
The appreciative rumble that went through her chest filled him with satisfaction, especially when she murmured his name. As if she were branding him on her body. That idea had his hips jerking in hunger.
God, he loved this woman. Always had, always would.
The thought filtered through his brain even as he worshipped her breasts and belly.
She was the one who pushed him over before setting her tongue to his penis.
He groaned in delight. Shifters had the best tongues and he fell backward in delirious pleasure.
But pretty soon, he wanted more. Her hips were beside his shoulder, so it was an easy move to lift her over his head before burying his own tongue between her thighs.
And there was her happy rumble again. She made such perfect noises.
And then she startled him. He never thought a couple could roll in sixty-nine, but she pulled him sideways and the abrupt shift had him chuckling.
Except she wasn’t done yet. The bed wasn’t quite big enough for the rumble tumble she initiated, but they managed anyway.
And then, she was sideways across the twin bed, her legs and head dangling off opposite sides.
She clutched his shoulders, trying to stay upright, but he wasn’t having any of it.
Especially since her legs had fallen open and his hips had dropped right into her cradle.
Wet heat, giggles, and a thrust. The sensations and actions merged together in a seamless tapestry. He stroked inside her while she wrapped her legs around him. He nibbled on her neck while she tugged on his ear.
So good. Every part of this, so absolutely good.
When orgasm came, it was almost an afterthought.
Every second of this had been bliss. Every kiss, every stroke, every contraction and release.
She cried out when she came. He felt like every cell of his body shot into her.
Fireworks. Oceans. Infinite space. All those words applied and none of them.
Because it was seamless, beautiful love.
And when they finally collapsed together, when he pulled them both straight on the bed so neither would fall off, he tucked her close, kissed her temple, and closed his eyes so that he could better remember the feel of her body, the scent of her skin, and the sweet warmth that she gave straight to his soul.
This, he thought. Just that word. This.
This moment, this feeling, this everything. He would cherish it for the rest of his very short life.