Chapter 20 | Heather
Heather
I woke with the taste of him still on my lips.
For a moment, before the day pulled at me, I let myself stay there, with my eyes closed, heart racing as if his mouth were still pressed to mine, as if his hands were still circling my waist, anchoring me in that fierce, consuming kiss.
Heat pooled low in my belly, sharper than any dream.
I pressed my fingers to my lips, shivering at the memory.
God, I wanted him again.
The orphanage was quiet, with only the soft sound of children snoring in their beds.
My body thrummed, restless, still aching from the way he’d kissed me—hungry, claiming, like he could drink me down.
My thighs pressed together, chasing the ache, but it only made me more aware of the emptiness, of what I wanted filling me.
Suppressants or not, I knew what this was. Heat, need, hunger. They were all tangled together now, awakened in a way I couldn’t smother. Not with pills. Not with distance.
When I finally pushed myself up, my body protested, heavy and weak with want. The kitchen kiss had carved itself into me, and I couldn’t tell if it steadied me or shattered me. Maybe both.
I caught sight of myself in the cracked mirror by the door. My hair was tangled, shadows under my eyes, but my mouth was swollen, lips bruised from his kiss. The sight stole my breath. For the first time in years, I didn’t look broken. I looked wanted. Desired. Alive!
The children stirred, soft voices breaking into laughter as they clambered from their bunks. I forced myself into motion, entering the main room, and Bennett was there.
He stood by the window, sunlight cutting across his shoulders. His eyes lifted, finding me instantly, and the air between us tightened like a pulled string.
I forgot to breathe.
His scent captured me in its wake. I needed him.
I needed all of him, all of them. Biting my lower lip, I squeezed my thighs together, wondering if he tasted as good as Dante did.
If his kiss would be strong or soft, sensual or hard.
My body responded before my mind could, heat flooding me so suddenly I had to grip the doorframe. He saw it. I knew he did.
And the hunger in his gaze told me he needed me just as much as I needed him.
Searing lava trailed through my body, igniting my core.
At first I thought it was just leftover hunger from the kiss, from Dante’s mouth pressed hard to mine, from the way my body had been humming with need ever since.
But this, no, this was different. Hotter.
Darker. Like my blood had turned molten and was trying to tear through me.
I folded over at the kitchen counter, my nails clawing at the wood, a strangled cry breaking free.
Heat bloomed under my skin, the merciless fire of need turning my bones hollow.
I shook, sweat slicking my temples, my thighs clenching around nothing as if that could hold the fire back.
It was useless. My body knew what it wanted, what it needed.
A sob tore free. “No, no, not now—”
Strong arms caught me before I crumpled.
Bennett. His peppermint scent hit me first, and my heat-starved body screamed for it. “Heather.” His voice was rough, but steady, the way he always was. “It’s starting.”
I could barely lift my head to look at him, sweat slicking my hair to my face.
He wasted no time. I heard the buzz of his phone, his clipped words. “Becky, we need you. The kids—yes, now.”
I whimpered, curling against him, my body trembling. “It hurts—oh God, it hurts.”
“I’ve got you.” He swept me up into his arms as if I weighed nothing.
My forehead pressed into the hard plane of his chest, the steady thud of his heartbeat fighting against the chaos roaring through me.
Each step up the stairs jostled the storm inside me, and I clung tighter, desperate for his touch, his strength, his scent.
The climb up the stairs blurred in pain and need. Every step jostled me, but his arms never wavered. My nails dug into his shirt, dragging at him, and I couldn’t tell if I was holding on for stability or begging for more.
He pushed into my room, my small, simple space that I’d carved out as my own. Faded curtains, secondhand blankets layered into a nest on the bed, scraps of comfort I’d gathered where I could. It wasn’t much. But it was mine.
Bennett laid me down carefully, like I was breakable. My body though, didn’t feel fragile. It felt rabid. Starved. I writhed against the blankets, fists clenching, breath ragged.
“Heat,” I croaked. The word was half a confession, half a curse.
His eyes softened, even as his jaw tightened. “I know. Dante told us it was coming. You’ve been off suppressants too long.”
Shame flared, fast and hot, but it drowned in another wave of pain that ripped through my body. I doubled over, clutching my stomach, tears spilling unchecked.
“Make it stop,” I begged, reaching blindly for him. My fingers curled in his shirt, dragging him closer. “Bennett, please...”
He caught my wrists gently, pressing them to the mattress. His voice was steady, even though his scent spiked with arousal. “Heather. You have to say it. Do you want me to stay? To help?”
Consent. Even now, he was asking. My chest cracked open with something more than heat.
A whimper ripped from my throat, raw and desperate. Another wave of fire slammed through me, making my back arch off the bed. “Yes! Please, Bennett, I need you! I can’t bear it!”
That was all it took.
Clothes vanished between frantic hands. His body pressed down, hot and heavy, and when he pushed into me, the agony split open into raw relief. I sobbed, clutching at him like a lifeline as the world narrowed to the burn of him filling me, stretching me, claiming me.
It wasn't gentle. It couldn't be, not with the fire consuming me from the inside out.
Bennett's hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, anchoring me as he moved with a rhythm that matched the desperate pounding of my pulse.
Each thrust drew a sound from my throat I didn't recognize—somewhere between a sob and a plea.
The first wave of relief crashed over me like a tidal force, but Bennett's movements remained controlled, deliberate. His hands framed my face, forcing me to meet his gaze even as my body writhed beneath him, desperate for more.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough with restraint. "I need to know you're with me, Heather. Not just the heat."
I forced my eyes to focus on his, seeing past the haze of need to the man who'd spent yesterday rebuilding my home, who'd run beside me through empty streets, who'd asked permission even when my body was screaming for him.
"I'm here," I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "I see you, Bennett. I want you. Not just—" Another wave of heat stole my words, made me arch against him with a cry that was half pleasure, half pain.
He moved then, setting a rhythm that was both mercy and torture.
Each thrust pushed back the fire consuming me from within, but it also built something else, something deeper than the biological imperative driving my heat.
His peppermint scent wrapped around me, mixing with my own until I couldn't tell where I ended and he began.
"That's it," he murmured against my throat, his lips finding the sensitive spot where my pulse hammered. "Let go, Heather. I've got you."
The permission undid me. I shattered around him, the relief so intense it brought tears to my eyes. But even as the first wave of heat ebbed, I could feel another building, my body far from satisfied with just one release.
His rhythm was relentless, protective, forcing my body to surrender. The emptiness inside me filled, anchored. And when his knot locked deep, my scream cracked into a broken sob of release.
“Bennett—” My nails bit into his shoulders. The fire wasn’t gone, but my mind cleared just enough to know what I needed next. “Mark me. Please. I can’t—I need it—I need to belong.”
His thrusts stilled. He cupped my face, eyes wild. “Heather, once I do this—there’s no going back.”
Tears streaked my cheeks. “I don’t want to go back. Do it.” My fists tangled in his hair, dragging him down. “Now.”
The growl that ripped from his chest vibrated through me a heartbeat before his teeth sank into my shoulder.
White-hot fire lanced my skin, then exploded inward, flooding every nerve with something vast, eternal.
I screamed out, back arching, body stiffening, as for that moment, everything else dimmed except the purity of the orgasm that charged through me.
Bennett was still locked deep inside me, his body stiff, back arched, and a heavy moaning filled my ear.
The knot pulsed, stretching, binding me to him in a way that left me trembling.
He grounded me. It was the only thing keeping me tethered while the explosion raged on, momentum building, sparking inside every cell in my body.
But it wasn’t enough. The craving rose higher, vicious, relentless. My body twisted against him, straining toward the others.
Before my body continued to burn again, my bedroom door opened. I tensed, but Bennett's hand on my hip kept me grounded as Dante's marshmallow scent filled the room.
"The children?" I asked breathlessly, a flicker of worry breaking through the haze.
"Becky has them," Dante assured me, moving to sit on the edge of my bed. His hand found my cheek, thumb stroking. "She took them to the park with promises of ice cream and stories. They'll be gone for hours."
Relief washed through me, followed immediately by another surge of need that had me pressing back against Bennett with a whimper.
Dante walked over as Bennett pulled out.
He climbed on the bed and cupped my face, his lips brushing mine with an unbearable gentleness that made tears rise all over again.
His mouth moved against me slow, reverent, coaxing me open.
His hands stroked down my body, lingering over every curve like I was something sacred.