27. Wren #2
He blinks once, his gaze slowly refocusing. His jaw ticks, anger still tightening his muscles, but after a moment, he nods.
I slide my fingers down to his wrist before entwining them with his. With a squeeze of his hand, I get to my feet. He doesn’t resist. Doesn’t react, but he stands with me.
He’s on autopilot as I lead him through the building. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look around. Just puts one foot in front of the other as though the direction itself is irrelevant. If anyone looked twice at him, they’d see danger. Rage. A man on the brink of detonating.
But I see something else: Agony given flesh.
We step outside into the cold. The breeze does nothing to flush the tightness from his face. He’s in no shape to attend his next class. Hell, he’s in no shape to be anywhere near people.
Making a split-second decision, I tighten my grip on his hand and veer us off the main path. He doesn’t ask where we’re going, just keeps pace beside me as I lead him off campus and toward my apartment.
Once inside, I drop my keys into the dish by the door and toe off my shoes.
As if unable to remain still now that he’s started moving, Lucian paces the length of my apartment like a trapped animal.
His chest rises and falls in shallow, angry gasps.
His hands keep flexing, clenching, as though he’s fighting the urge to break something.
Gone is the numbness from the lecture hall, and the Lucian in front of me is unraveling right before my eyes.
“ARGH!” he suddenly roars, the sound emitting from him like the dying cry of a fatally wounded animal. Like he can’t bear to keep the pain bottled up inside any longer.
He crumples in on himself, bending at the waist and clutching his head.
I have never seen him so unhinged. So…broken.
I’ve caught glimpses of his pain. Hints at his trauma.
But never this. He’s always done such a stellar job of keeping it all locked up, the emotions shut down, but the Lucian before me is truly unraveling, and I don’t see any way of stopping it.
I’m not even entirely sure I should stop it.
I feel like he needs this.
His shoulders rise and fall as air saws into his lungs. His breaths are loud in the otherwise silent room.
“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” he eventually rasps, still bent over and not looking at me.
“Lucian—”
“You think you’re helping, but I’m not safe to be around.
” His voice breaks, jagged and raw as he slowly moves back to his full height.
The look on his face as he stares at me with dull, flat eyes, is utter wretchedness.
“I’m a fucking grenade with the pin halfway out, and I don’t want to blow up on you. ”
“You won’t.”
Hesitantly, I edge closer. Well, as close as he’ll let me get.
“You don’t know that,” he spits. War wages in those steel gray eyes of his. “Why aren’t you afraid of me? You should be. If you know what is good for you, you’d stay away.”
He scoffs before looking away.
Helpless, all I can do is stare at him.
“I guess I’m not very good at knowing what’s good for me.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” he continues as though I never spoke. “I—I black out in a rage. I forget how to breathe. I hate everything and everyone—”
Taking a bold step into his space, I grab hold of his arm. “You’re in pain.” I wait until his eyes meet mine. “You’re in so much pain that you don’t know what to do with it,” I murmur softly, staring up into his face. “So let me help you hold it.”
“You should be running in the opposite direction,” he rasps, voice thick. Broken. “Because whatever you think I am, you’re wrong. You think I’m whole? I’m not. I’m fucking bleeding inside. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing getting close to me.”
“Let me worry about that,” I tell him, staring up at him with a soft, relaxed, open expression that conveys I’m going nowhere. That I’m not afraid of him.
He stands frozen. Trembling. Still fighting it. Still ready to run.
So I do the only thing I can think of.
I do what he once did to me that helped me see the light.
I step into him, grab his face in my hands, and I kiss him.
He stills instantly.
His lips are initially firm and unforgiving beneath mine, his entire body strung tight like a bow.
I run my tongue along the seam of his mouth. Coaxing. Encouraging.
Come on, let me in, I plead silently with him.
It takes a moment, but then, like a wall giving way bit-by-bit, he crumbles.
His body bows over mine, his lips part to grant me entry, and his hands lift to grasp my sides like he’s in desperate need of something real to keep him from slipping beneath the waves.
He surges forward. Into me. Around me. Over me. I give him all of me, and he takes it. Consumes me like a dying man in need of water. His hands run up my sides, then around my back, before moving down and over my ass.
Grasping the backs of my thighs, he hauls me into him before lifting me off the ground. My legs wrap around his trim waist as we move deeper into the apartment.
He lowers me onto the sofa, bracing his knees on either side of my hips as he shifts to hover over me, never once letting up on the assault on my mouth.
I give back as good as I get, burning alive in the fire that is Lucian Caulfield.
My skin sizzles at his touch, my nerves alight with a need so profound that I feel as though I’m going to combust if I’m not satiated.
I arch into him, pressing my straining breasts against his shirt and dragging my crotch along the bulge in his jeans. My hands roam everywhere they can touch before moving to tug at his top.
He breaks away only long enough so I can pull it over his head, before capturing my lips again in a heated kiss. Every swipe of his tongue is driven by hunger, by need, by the desire to lose himself in something other than his pain.
It’s not until I reach for the button of his jeans that he stalls. Pulling back, anguish sweeps over his face as he shakes his head. “I can’t,” he rasps, sounding pained. “I can’t use you like this.”
Moving instead to grasp his face, I force him to meet my gaze.
“You’re not using me for anything,” I tell him honestly. “I want you. I want you so bad that I’ve been in a constant state of discomfort ever since we played Twister.”
His lips twitch at that.
I thump him playfully in the chest. “You laugh, but I wore out the batteries in my vibrator, and it still didn’t hit the spot.”
“Baby,” he purrs. “All you had to do was ask, and we’d have given you what you needed.”
Staring into his eyes, I say, “Well, I’m asking now. So there’s only one question left to answer: do you want me too?”
“Fuck, Wren, I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you at the rink, in your skintight skirt and sexy heels.” He brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “And every day since, I’ve only wanted you more. Witnessing your fire. Your strength… How could anyone not want you?”
Not needing to hear any more, I wrap my hand around his neck and pull him down to me.
No more words are spoken as he strips me of my clothes. I finally get his pants off him, and I’m panting heavily as he moves down my front, running his tongue between the valley of my breasts while using his fingers to play with my nipples.
“Your body is fucking sinful,” he says in awe, shifting onto his knees as he moves lower, kissing along my hip bones, then over my belly button, before shifting to my pelvis.
I squirm, wet and needy for his touch. My chest is stained red, my breathing nothing but short, shallow pants as I mentally encourage him lower.
“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmurs against my skin as his face moves to settle between my spread thighs. His eyes drop to my core, pupils dilated and clouded with lust. “The reality is so much better.”
With that, he dives in. I gasp, hips bucking as his tongue sweeps between my folds before lifting to circle my clit.
“Oh,” I sigh, head falling back against the couch cushion. My fingers slide between the black strands of Lucian’s hair, tugging on the roots as I rock my hips against his face. He hums against my skin, his arms tightening around my thighs as he presses deeper.
He laps and sucks at my clit until I’m a squirming, writhing mess.
“Oh God, Lucian,” I gasp, unable to stay still as I pull on his hair and buck against him. “Don’t stop. I’m going to come.”
He doesn’t let up as he drives me over the edge and into oblivion. My back arches, my muscles pull tight, and my body locks up as an orgasm ricochets through me. I’m left boneless and panting as he climbs up me, chin wet and grinning like the savage he is.
“Best. Meal. Ever,” he growls, before pulling me in for a soul-sucking kiss. I can taste myself on him, the contrast of my vanilla body wash to his bergamot and burnt spice is heady and intoxicating.
Hitching a leg over his hips, I encourage him closer. I feel his cock nudge at my entrance, and reaching down, I guide him inside. He hisses as I moan, the sounds of our pleasure a sweet symphony in the otherwise quiet room.
The outside world falls away until it’s only me and Lucian and this incredible chemistry between us. My nerves are alight. My skin damp with sweat as it slides along his. His breaths are loud in my ear as every athletic thrust of his body drives both of us higher up that peak.