Page 65 of A Light in the Darkness
“Jesus, you’re shaking.” His voice is in my ear, and then he’s wrapping me against him. “Are you cold?”
Not sure how to answer that, I shake my head. I don’t feel cold, or hot. I just don’t feel.
“You’re freezing!” He scolds me, rubbing his arms over mine. “God, Claire. What can I do?”
He knows I won’t answer him, and maybe it was a rhetorical question anyway, because he pushes me away from him for just a fraction of a second, spinning me to face him. When he folds me against his stomach, the pressure on my shoulder makes me gasp.
He pulls away so quickly you’d think I burnt him, and I think he’s sick of me, that he’s going to leave me to stew in my despair, but he crosses to the garden tub and begins to run water from one of the taps. I watch as he motions me forward, and somehow, my body obeys the command, my feet pushing me toward him. He doesn’t even slip his boxers off as he lifts me in his arms, cocooning me into him, and sinks into the water with me.
The splash of the water over our bodies is the only sound for a while as he threads his fingers through mine and holds me tightly to his chest. When it reaches the top of the overflow drain, neither of us moves to turn it off, instead letting it continue to pour and continue to drain out slowly.
It takes a long time—I’m almost asleep by the time I realize it—but eventually, I realize I can feel Remy’s heartbeat against the back of my chest. It’s an almost disconcerting realization that has me nearly move away from him, but I don’t have the energy, so I stay still, feeling each beat through his chest and into mine. I didn’t realize mine was racing until I notice it slowing down, the jittery feeling fluttering through me in its wake as it eases into a pattern that matches his.
Letting my head fall back against his shoulder, I relax, closing my eyes. The water is surprisingly warm as it falls around my feet—only the tips of my toes poke through the surface…turquoise, from when we painted them before our vacation to Florida. That feels like a lifetime ago.
“I love you.”
It’s a whisper, like maybe he’s afraid to say it any louder, but there’s no mistaking what words he spoke.
I sit with that confession for a moment, not sure what to say in response, not sure if I can say anything at all. My throat feels swollen, still raw, and I don’t know if it’s from all the screaming I did or all the screams that got trapped inside me.
Remy pushes me off of him, and I imagine he’s grown tired of talking to himself, but he’s only angling me to face him before pulling me against him once more. Two fingers catch the edge of my jaw, and he tilts it so that his eyes can meet mine.
“I love you, Claire. I amin lovewith you. And I’m so sorry that I pushed you away. If I had just found the courage to let myself love you, this wouldn’t have happened. I can’t make you understand how much I regret that, but I am willing to spend the rest of my life trying.”
I sweep his eyes—the beautiful amber, the deep brown, the sincerity. If the eyes are the window to the soul, he’s bearing his soul to me in this moment, letting me see him in abject honesty, with no walls between us. He’s giving me something that I can’t give him back. I’m trying to make sound move past my lips, but he doesn’t give me the chance, catching my mouth with his.
It's slow and delicate, just like his touch has been since he found me. I can taste all of the hopes in him, all of the things he still wants to say, his hunger for this moment. He’s regarding me like a priceless thing, a sculpture made of glass.
“I will make art out of you.”
My hand slips around his neck, tangling in the hair at the base of his skull as I pull him deeper into me. I feel the resistance, the hesitation, the need to be gentle warring with the need to give in to what he wants. My kiss is hungry, desperate, pleading.
And he gives me what I want, pulling me closer, holding me tighter, kissing me harder. I feel the ridge of his cock tightening beneath me, and a small moan escapes me as I slide myself over it.
As if realizing he’s done something wrong, Remy suddenly snaps out of it, pushing me off of him. I don’t go far, slipping off his lap with my lips swollen, my chest aching, and my eyes burning.
“Harder.” I force the word through my throat, needing him to hear it, to know what I want… what I need.
I watch his fingers curl into a fist and then he runs his palm over his face, looking like he’s trying to wipe away his frustration. “Did you not hear me? I love you. I fucking love you and I—”
I don’t give him a chance to say anything more, launching myself at him and settling over his lap. He tilts his head back, his bewildered gaze meeting mine. Whatever he sees in it, he surrenders, gripping the nape of my neck, pinning me in place with one hand while he frees his cock from his boxers with the other.
He lines himself up with my entrance, but I assume control, sinking down onto his length, letting him fill me in a way I didn’t realize was possible anymore. The hollowness is chased away as I slide down on him, taking everything he has to offer, letting myself feel him sheathed inside me before I retreat.
I stay focused on him as I work, his head dropping back against the edge of the tub, his eyes rolling to a close and then slowly working open so he can take me in. My wet hair drips onto his face as I look down at him, admiring the view, the sensation of the water slapping around us, propelled forward and back with each of my thrusts.
It’s slow to start, gentle while I explore, and then I grip his hair, forcing his head back against the tile, his throat out like an offering I intend to take as I use the leverage to ride him harder. My kiss on his throat is similarly gentle, at first, but by the time my lips make it to his, there’s nothing gentle about it. I’m biting him, clawing at his scalp, devouring him in every way I can. And he seems to enjoythe meal I’m making of him, deep gasps of pleasure rolling from him as I work my hips faster.
When I press my hips against him, tilting my pelvis downward, the friction makes me nearly detonate. My gasp is just as needy as his when I find that sweet spot, and I redouble my efforts, grinding over his cock until he’s barely hanging on, his teeth are bared, and the expression on his face has turned to one of pain. And then I make him suffer a moment longer while I find my orgasm, stoking the fire inside both of us at the same time.
We come together, his nails in my back and my teeth wrapped around his lower lip, both of us a gasping, wet mess. He doesn’t make a move to disentangle himself from me, and I don’t make a move to slide off of him, enjoying the moment for just a little longer.
Remy smiles as he reaches his hand up to trace my lips, which ache from the loss of him. “I love you.” He says again.
And just like that, I slip off him, leaving me empty again.
Chapter thirty-eight
