Page 39 of Vow to Protect
Brett frowns, wrinkling the tape fastened to his brow. “I should go.”
“Why don’t you explain first?” My arms fold over the thundering beats in my chest.
“It was wrong of me to come here.”
“Why didn’t you go to her? To the woman.”
“She’s in heaven.” The words sting the surrounding air. He clicks off his phone, cracks his neck and scoops the towel off the floor. Tucking it neatly around his hips, he saunters to the bathroom.
My mind prickles with a million regrets. “I’m sorry.” I fling off the covers and scramble over the mattress on all fours. “I thought…” I feel like I’ve desecrated a burial site when he glares over his shoulder.
“I bought a ring, planned a proposal and kick started the adoption process so my daughter could have a reliable mother. One day she was sharing my bed, all warm and loving and sweet. The next day she was laid out in the morgue, cold and unresponsive.” Brett chokes the door handle like a raging storm gathering momentum.
A hard lump bobs in my windpipe, restricting my voice. I don’t speak. I can’t. He vanishes into the bathroom and locks the door.
She’s dead. I exhale in a gust, falling back onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. Now I understand the curious darkness behind his eyes, and why our connection is so fierce. We’ve both suffered a tragic loss. Being with this man is both sinking to the seabed in the coldest ocean and being resurrected by a blistering heat of the bright sun.
The lock turns, and he flings the door open. “You did this?” He reappears, pointing to the padding above his eyebrow.
I lift to my elbows and nod slowly. “Yes.” Wrinkles crease my forehead. “It was bleeding.”
“And you rubbed that shit all over my chest.” His hand cups his length. “Then you sucked me off, even when I told you the rules?”
The hot pulse spanning my neck thrums. “Yes. I…” He stalks closer, eyes narrow and chest rising to the same tempo as my racing heart. A chill whispers through my blood. “I was repaying the debt I owe. You’ve helped me, so I cleaned your wounds. It’s the least I could do.”
“I told you to stop thanking me,” he says calmly, but his clenched fists tell me he is all but serene inside.
“Well, you should stop saying sorry,” I blurt out.
“I’m not apologising toyou.” Dark brows tug tighter. “I’m apologising to her because I’m with you.”
I gasp inwardly.What the fuck?When my feet hit the floor, his hands shoot out and yank the hem of my t-shirt. “So touching me was repaying a debt?”
Before I can think straight, the t-shirt whirls through the air. He sinks down to his knees. Muscles flex like wound up springs. Eyes unreadable.
“You let me,” I point out.
“I more than let you, Raen. I wanted it. I fucking loved the feeling of hands on my skin and a mouth on my cock.” My jaw slackens, freeing the shock.
Fascination and turmoil swim in his searching gaze as he studies the raw cross etched over my heart. Nerves explode in my stomach when he carefully pads the raised ridges. His fingers splay, shielding the savagery. “My scars have mutilated my heart. I have nothing to give. However, I’ll happily repay the debt I owe you now.”
Brett stretches out his hand, selects a balm from the collection he gave me, and squeezes out a few drops into his palm. Lashes fringing dark eyes lift, and he looks at me with a shadowed depth of mystery. Every single one of my muscles brace for harshness.
I hold my breath, anticipating his next move. A slather of wetness meets the tender area. Softly, gently, with care. “I hope you find someone who’ll worship you.” His tongue skates between his lips. “Your freedom will allow you that luxury. Once you're free from this city, you can start all over again. Hit the reset button.”
Tingles electrify me from the inside out. My heart lurches closer to the soothing strokes. I shamelessly push into him, widening my legs. Fine tips of hair brush the base of my spine when my head drapes backward. “I’m a prisoner in my own life,” he continues with a cool calmness. “It doesn’t matter about this—whatever the fuck this is between us.”
He feels it too.
Tenderness mollifies the alien scar tissue. The truth of his comment trickles with a slow burn. Brett doesn’t live in my future, only the present, and that’s what he is—a gift of the moment. Nothing more.
Bit by bit, he moves into me, closer, tighter to the throbbing between my thighs. Finally, I’m plastered to his chest. My palms rest on his shoulders, and my nipples jab into him like darts.
Mindful fingers trace my jawline. Teasing lips pepper perfect kisses down my neck. His other hand squeezes my breast, directing it upwards so the nipple greets his teeth. Every act is slow and purposeful. He explores and savours. Licks and grazes. A husky hum signifies his satisfaction. The rumbling tone reverberates through the connection, shooting straight for my core. As the aftershocks ripple, they stun my heart with a longing I’ve never known, nor will I ever understand.
Our eyes lock. Together we lower to the mattress. The heat of his body arching over mine fuels my thirst for life, love and lust. All the tomorrows could drift away in a second of time—when a single life becomes someone else’s memory. All I want is this man. To sooth the demons biting at my heels. To feed the passion unfurling in my core.
Greedy fingers glide over his bruised torso, roaming freely from his biceps to the planes of his abdomen. His arms go rigid. Black eyes drill into mine. They swirl with emotion before closing briefly.He’s thinking of her. Not me.
