Gritting his jaw, he pushed in—slowly, surely, claiming me in ways he never did when we were first in love. I’d slept with Killian, but this was the first time I’d slept with Arthur. Art. My one true connection.
There was nothing between us anymore—no latex from condoms or darkness from unremembered memories. Just us.
His eyes tightened as he stretched and filled me, the invasion never stopping until he sank as deeply as he could go. His back was bowstring tight as he released a ragged groan sheathing himself completely.
I didn’t want to move or dispel the aching, delectable throbbing of having him take me so thoroughly. His body was snug and warm over mine, his green eyes glowing in the dimness of the bedroom.
Our gaze never unlocked.
We didn’t move. But we were joined with ravenous, rapturous oblivion.
My jaw clenched, fighting the urge to rock. I wanted to savor the silence of just being for another moment—to embrace the incredibleness of finding each other after so long.
My core rippled, welcoming him deeper.
Art groaned, letting some of his weight fall on me, pressing his forehead against mine. We were both slick with sweat even though we hadn’t moved. Our bodies and hearts thrumming with energy. My tattoos were bright against the bedspread and I didn’t feel ugly with my scars. His gaze remained full of perfect love—despite me having changed since he’d last seen me.
His mouth searched for mine and the moment his lips connected, I snapped. The time for serenity was over. Now I wanted to be used. I wanted to know just who impaled me and how much I never wanted him to leave.
Gathering him to me, I rocked.
He gasped; his restraint snapped and he drove into me. Hard and strong. His hipbones bruised my thighs as I opened wider, welcoming his violence, his need.
There was a fine line of making love and fucking but this was love-fucking. This was cruel but sweet. Angry but happy. It was a thousand words in one timeless action—righting the wrongs of our past and hopefully repairing a future we both didn’t think we’d ever find.
“God, Cleo. Fuck.” He pounded harder, his grunts mixing with my cries. My fingernails clutched his hips, riding up and down with every rock.
“Yes. Art, more.”
His body pistoned into mine, trying to devour me. Tears tracked down my eyes; the world swam with desire and despair at missing him so much.
“Shit, don’t cry…” Art stopped, his large thumbs brushing away the salt on my cheeks.
I nipped at his touch, arching upright to pant in his ear. “Don’t stop.”
I couldn’t stop. I never wanted to stop.
There was nothing on earth that could get me to cease the incredible assault coming from the boy I thought I’d lost.
I cried out as he grabbed my leg, bringing it up and spreading me even wider. I thought I’d never get to touch this man—hug him or stroke as he pounded into me—but all my wishes had come true. My hands landed on his ass, clutching him harder, forcing more violence, more animalistic thrusting.
“Goddammit, Cleo,” he groaned as I dug my fingernails harder.
We were so close. Our skin stuck to each other; his heart interrupted the beat of mine until I swore they beat in unison. We were too close. We weren’t close enough.
“Kill, you’re killing me.”
“Art, goddammit,” he growled. His hands clutched the bedspread by my ears as he thrust harder. The need to come ached in every part. Every stroke of his large cock sent me higher and higher up a cliff. I wouldn’t hold on much longer.
Wedging my knee between us, I pushed Art away and hooked it over his shoulder. In one move, I delivered the rest of my vulnerability and trust, exposing where we were joined and letting him control however he wanted to drive us over the ledge.
He didn’t say a word. His eyes smoldered and his teeth landed on my leg, biting hard as he drove deliciously hard into me. His stomach clenched with every thrust, the sheen of sweet making him glow.
My breasts bounced and I knew from his vantage point he’d see everything. My scars, my ink, the love bursting in my eyes.
“Goddammit, Cleo. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
I smiled. “I do. Same thing you’re doing to me.”
“You’re in my fucking heart.”
“I’ve been there since we met.”
He grinned crookedly, his eyes heavy with dark lust. “You have. Always been there.”
His gaze fell between us, latching onto my exposed pussy. I looked to where we were joined, panting at the mind-consuming image of his large cock disappearing inside me stroke after stroke.
His jaw clenched, his fingernails digging into my leg. “I’m gonna come. I have to come.”
I nodded. “Come. Take me with you.”
Setting his jaw, he increased his rhythm, pounding and fucking until his cock stiffened and his forehead furrowed with pleasure.
“Christ…” His mouth fell open and his entire body shuddered, driving himself to the pinnacle.
Deep inside I felt the first ripple and splash of his release.
“Yes, Art. God, give it to me.”
He angled upward, his eyes clouded as he kept coming. His fingers landed on my clit, rubbing firm and determined, ripping me from my cliff and hurling me into the stratosphere.
My back bowed, my toes curled, and my own release appeared from nowhere, spooling me high, then whirling me like a spinning top until I exploded into cosmic pieces.
I gave him everything that I was. I gave him all my troubles and dreams and flashbacks. I let him save me. And at the same time saved him.
By the time the last quiver of our orgasms faded, we were both panting and boneless.
I groaned as Arthur slid out of me, gently lowering my cramped leg from his shoulder. I winced as he massaged the seizing muscles.
Soundlessly, he flopped onto his back, gathering me close and tucking me against his body. Instead of being self-conscious with the stickiness between my thighs, I relished in being cradled.
A nuclear bomb could go off and I would have no desire to move. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
Wrapping his large body around my smaller one, his hand cradled a breast. Whispering his lips over my hair, he murmured, “Go to sleep, little Buttercup.”
I sighed, battling happy tears, sad tears, confused and still lost tears, but the glow in my heart lapped up the feelings knitting them into a sated, satisfied blanket.
For the first time since I’d forgotten my world and soul mate, I fell asleep with a smile on my face and the knowledge I was utterly safe.
Chapter Eighteen
I’d admitted I was a fucking mess thinking she was dead.
It was nothing compared to the jumble of thoughts I was now.
I struggled to make sense of my world.
It was no longer black and white.
I fought against the urge to hide my heart again. It was easier, less painful when feeling nothing.
But Cleo dragged me back into pain.
Pain so vibrant and intense I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move.
She was real.
She’s come back from the dead for me.
And I would do everything in my power to never let her leave me again.
—Kill
I woke to Arthur sweeping his fingers down my stomach.
My body twisted, trying to find a way free from his touch.
“You’re still ticklish. Just checking,” he murmured against my hair. His fingers disappeared, dragging me closer to spoon along his sleep-warmed limbs.
I wanted more of last night. I wanted to feel him inside me again.
“I loved coming inside you,” he said softy, nuzzling his nose against my ear. “I’ve never done it bare before. Damn, Cleo—your heat—it took every ounce of self-control I had not to come the second I entered you.”
I smiled, hugging his arm. “You felt amazing.”
“You felt like a fucking wet dream.”
I giggled as his fingers trailed up to my breast, tracing circles around my rapidly hardening nipple. “I want you so much. All I can think about is pushing your legs apart and sliding deep inside you.”
He pressed his erection against my ass, grinding himself.
I wriggled, pushing my hips against him. “Do it. Take me.”
His teeth nibbled on my ear. “Can’t. Got things to do.”
I moaned, burrowing closer, reaching behind to grab his cock.
I missed.
Chuckling, he suddenly let me go and rolled upright. I shot to my knees, trying to catch him, but was too late. With a wry smile, he jumped out of bed and stood gloriously naked and way, way too tempting. “If I give in, we’ll never leave. And this can’t wait.”
I flopped onto my back, sighing dramatically. “What can’t wait?”
Leaning down, he grabbed my ankle and jerked me to the end of the bed.
“Hey!”
Pulling me from tangled sheets, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and legs, then picked me up as if I weighed nothing. “Come. We’re going to have a shower.”
I wanted to fight—to win and reward myself by never leaving the bed, but beneath his amused expression lurked anxiety and a lot of rage.
“What is it?” I murmured, cupping his cheek and drawing his eyes to mine.
He swallowed back the dark emotions swirling on his face, shaking his head. “Nothing.” Stalking toward the bathroom, he kissed my forehead. “Do you know I’ve never touched or been close to anyone like I am with you? I’ve never picked up a woman or wanted her naked flesh against mine.”