Page 80 of Lovely Deceit

Eden glances at Oliver and Alaric. “Can you two give us a minute?”

Oliver walks forward, slapping Alaric on the back. “Let me finally show you your room.”

They both nod at me as they leave, and it makes me feel like I’m getting on the right course.

When they leave, Eden bridges the gap between us. She runs her hands through my hair and doesn’t protest when I hug her legs, soiling her clothes. I lay my head on her stomach, and she hugs me to her. “You’re so stupid, you know that? You’re the only person I know that it would take this much to realize you were wrong.”

I peer up at her. “I don’t want to be my grandfather’s little errand boy. I never have.”

“But you were scared?”

I press my lips together, but she gives me a look. “A little,” I admit. My voice hardens as the truth hits me. “Yes. I didn’t know who I would be without him.”

“Someone better,” she says. “I don’t know much, but I know that.” She slides her hands up my arms, carefully avoiding the slices in my skin but not caring that she marks herself in my blood.

I shiver. Pulling her down, I stop when she’s hovering over my mouth. “Why were you mad at me after we had sex?”

Her blue eyes hide behind fanned lashes. “You still don’t get it?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know how normal people act.”

She bites down on her lip. “I’m taking some of the blame, too, but Leo…the first time your cock was inside me, I didn’t want it to be like that. With an audience. Or in a flurry of mechanics. It made me feel cheap, and I know I instigated it. I guess I just wanted you to make the right decision for once.”

A low rumble emanates from my chest. “I didn’t want that. You aren’t cheap.”

She glides her hand up over my shoulder, smearing blood as she goes until she cups my face. “I get that now.”

She guides me to my feet, and my hands grip her ass. She moves back into them and then forward, shifting against my erection. I palm her tight butt and she climbs up me until her legs are around my hips. The whole front of her shirt is coated in red now. The physical pain recedes until every single nerve-ending I have pumps into my balls. “How about having sex with someone who’s covered in blood?” I ask, brows rising. “Is that a bad decision?”

She looks me over. “This is more you.” She creates some space, her fingers floating over the slashes in my skin that are still weeping. “This is how I imagine your insides look. All cut up and bleeding, but you hide it away.” Peeking up, she says, “I feel like that sometimes, too.” She takes the hem of her shirt and peels it over her head, dropping it to the ground next to us. Bringing her hand up and across her black, lacy bra, she settles it above her chest. “This is where your cut lies—yours and Alaric’s. You both scarred me.”

My insides clench, and I instinctively move forward to press a kiss there. She tugs her hand out of the way, and I leave my lips there, closing my eyes. If I could seal up her wounds, I would. In a heartbeat.

It’s time for me to stop fooling myself into believing that I don’t have a heart, that it somehow detonated itself long ago. This girl has gotten under my skin from the beginning, and there’s a reason for that. She’s not like the others I’ve had and disposed of. She’s stuck with me, leaving her mark on me like the very tattoos that run up and down my arms.

After pulling my face back, she gives me a small smile before pressing her lips to mine. It takes willpower I didn’t know I possessed not to consume her. That was my problem the first time: I had to have her, had to feel her pussy smash against my cock. I take that animalistic part of me and lock it away in a box for a little while as I let her take her time exploring my mouth.

Her lips tease and tug until I’m kissing her back. Her soft kisses are like the sweetest lullaby to my damaged soul.

I stop, my heart careening inside my chest. “What’s wrong?” she says, moving away.

Closing my eyes, I swallow, grappling with whether to speak my mind or not. But I’m going forward in truth, right? Turning over a new leaf? The truth is, I never kissed girls. Why would I when the whole point was to feel satisfaction? You don’t need any mouth contact to do that. “You’re the first girl I’ve kissed in a long time.”

She shifts against me, and my dick responds. Instead of pushing forward like I normally would, I stare down at her lips as they turn up into a smile. “Well, it must be like riding a bike because you’re doing a damn good job.”

I press my mouth to hers again, this time angling her face so I can dive deeper into her. We kiss like it’s a match of wills, of who can take it the farthest without breaking. At the same time, the need inside me grows to a fever pitch, exceeding any other desires I’ve ever had. All I feel is her. All I want is her.

I knead her ass with my fingers until she’s shifting into me, rubbing against my cock, making me groan. I’ve never denied myself a woman for this long. If I wanted her, I’d just do her. There was no drawn-out process.

Apparently, I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time because goddamn, this feels amazing.

“You better be thinking about laying me down on this couch soon, Leo,” she moans. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

She creates some separation, her fingers working on the button of my pants. But my stare is focused on the red smears all over her skin. I never want to see her like this in real life, but there’s something to be said for her wearing my blood like it’s body armor.

No sooner does she pull my zipper down than I move toward the couch. “We’re about to ruin this piece of furniture.”

“He’ll forgive me,” she pants, kissing me again.

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