Page 155 of Rivals
She does it again, and I can’t keep the groan from rolling through my chest. “I am not glass, Lachlan. I may be physically healing—“ She lifts her arm, and I glance at the white gauze wrapped around it. ”—but I still want you in every single way, physically, mentally, emotionally, all of it. I don’t want to be scared anymore of losing you, of life. So please, don’t treat me, or hold me, or touch me like one wrong thing is going to make me jump off the roof or slit my own throat this time.” I wince at her words, and bile rises in the back of my throat. I cough, trying to clear the tears building in the back of my nose.
“I am sorry I put you through that. Nothing you said pushed me to that point. It was all me. As hard as that is to admit, it’s the truth. I let the thoughts spiral.Iam the addict.Imade the choice. It took a toll on you, and I will regret it for the rest of my life. I should have asked for help a while ago, and I understand that now. But Lachlan, I love you and don’t want you to hold back with me. I want you to love me hard and fast, then soft and slow. I want you to love me the way you think I need or tell you I need. And none of those options include being afraid to handle me.“ She leans in, bites the top of my ear, and whispers, “I want your hands on me, Lachlan McKay. I want you to remind me why it feels so good to be alive.” My fingers twitch to give her exactly what she needs.
“Then get off my lap and strip,” I command. Her eyes flare, and she scrambles off the couch. I watch her pull my hoodie from her petite body and toss it. Then she flicks the button of her loose jeans, and they slip down her legs to a puddle on the floor. She kicks them to the side and stands in front of me in her black bra and matching underwear. I stare at her for a moment as her chest heaves in anticipation. My eyes latch onto her wrists, and she slips them behind her back. I shake my head and pull both her arms out.
“If you want me to remind you why it feels so good to be alive, then don’t ever hide yourself from me, love, scars and all. I love all of you.” She loosens her arms and relaxes them at her sides. I hold her hands while I stand to tower over her. Her head tips back, and the messy bun flops on her head. I grab the hair tie and gently tug it. Her long black hair cascades down her back. It’s so long I could wrap it around my fist around it. Twice.
I run my fingers through the soft strands and tug. Revna wants me to make her heart beat quicker, so why not do that and make the painting I’ve been thinking about since we started the collection? I step around her and throw one of the new canvases on the floor, pull my shirt off, and throw it on the pile of her clothes. Then, grab tubes of white and hot pink paint.
Before I unzip my jeans, I open the bottles and walk around the perimeter of the canvas, squirting the pink and white paint where it feels like it should go. Revna takes a step closer, and I stop. “I didn’t tell you to move, muse.” Her tongue dips out over her lips. I like this game, but the anticipation is killing both of us, and I’m not that restrained.
I finish putting the two colors where I want them and then toss my pants. “Come here, muse.” She takes three steps to me, and I grab the front of her throat. Her lips part as my fingers run over her spine to unclip her bra. It falls over her shoulders and I toss it away from the paint. I dip down, dragging my lips from the center of her chest to her jaw, leaving my mark everywhere except her mouth. She moans when I bite the slope of her neck. I move to the other side. She tips her face to catch my mouth, but I only graze her lips across mine before I land on the other shoulder. A groan tears through her lips, and I smile against her skin. “Frustrated?”
She huffs, and I drop my hand from her neck to her lower back, pulling her forward. She loses balance, catching herself on my chest, and I drop to my knees in front of her to drag my fingers up her inner thighs. Her hand grips my hair and naturally widens her stance for me. I pull her underwear down and watches expectantly. I pause and then drop my hand, laying back on the canvas. She frowns and I chuckle at her as the wet paint slides against my back. “Sit,” I command, gesturing to my lap. She carefully steps on the edge of the canvas, then lowers herself over my stomach.
I pull her wrists to go above my head so her chest is in my face, and she moans, rolling her hips. My hand slips between her legs, and she gasps on contact. “Please, Lach,” she sighs.
I grin, about to surprise her again and flip us so she’s on her back. Her hair gets in the paint and drags interesting marks across the canvas, all in different sizes. I plant my hand beside her head and lift her leg to my hip.
“Stop teasing me,” she whines. I grin and finally fit my lips to hers. She lifts her head slightly as I pull away, then groans when I stop.
“Mmm, I think this is my new favorite pastime.” She huffs as I press my lips on her beating heart, and then I slide my hand to her center. She writhes beneath me, translating the rhythm onto the canvas. Her eyes close, and I stop. “Eyes on me, love. I want to see that spark.” She nods, biting her lip. I continue working her up, and her nails dig deeper into my biceps while her hips push up into my hand. “That’s it, love,” I coo. She sighs, and a shrill cry springs from her lips. Her hand slaps on the canvas as she melts beneath me.
She gasps for air and tugs my hand from between her legs, putting it next to her head. Then she wraps both legs around my waist and lifts her hips. Her body shakes with the exertion, and I chuckle. “Oh, are you in control now?”
“Are you done being an asshole now?” I throw my head back and laugh.
“Not really, but you need me.” She groans, frustrated, and I lower my hips. I catch myself a little as my hand slips on the pink paint.
“No, you just think I need you. I’ll go handle this myself,” she says, breathless.
“The hell you will, baby,” I grunt and slip again, almost squishing Revna beneath me. A giggle bubbles from her lips, and we roar in laughter. There is pink and white paint smeared over her cheeks, and I would do anything for that smile to stay.
The laughter dies down, but the inferno between us has only seemed to grow. The smiles fade, and the flush of Revna’s skin makes mine prickle with need. “I need you, Lach,” she whispers.
“I love you, Revna,” I say, lifting my hips back to a better position.
“I love you, too.” I slide home, and we moan in harmony at the sensations. She lifts her hips, moving against me. I grit my teeth, trying to keep the rush at bay as I thrust into her. She slowly scoots up the canvas with the paint sliding against her back.
“Turn us,” she gasps. I smile and kiss her cheek. It’s funny how we are both aware of the canvas below us but still chasing each other’s pleasure.
I grunt, dragging her through the paint across the canvas, and grip the edges of the frame to ram into her. “Yes,” she moans. Our bodies move in sync, and her painted arms slide around my neck as she holds on. I don’t know where she starts or where I end, it’s just like it’s supposed to be. “Lach,” she says, breathless in my ear. “I’m—“
“You’re mine,” I pant, knowing I’m close. I increase the pace again, and her teeth sink into my shoulder as she screams into my skin. She goes limp beneath me as I ravish her body and throw myself over the crumbling edge. I curse, capturing her mouth with mine, kissing her like she is the oxygen I need to breathe. I lose myself in her, and I fall to my forearms so I don’t crush her again.
Her mouth rips away from mine, and we’re both still as I stare into her dark coffee eyes. The corner of her mouth slowly tips up, and she rubs her hands over my beard.
“I think we’re done with one of them,” she says, looking over her shoulder. I chuckle and nuzzle my nose into her neck. Her muscles tense, and I groan.
“Baby,” I grunt. She hums and trails her fingers up and down my back.
“We need to take a shower.” I nod against her and stay there for a moment before I pull away from her. I look for fear in her eyes. She’s showered since we came home from the hospital, but I always wonder if it’s too potent of a memory. Maybe we should consider moving so we can leave it behind. She’s told me it’s fine but weird, but she can work through it. I think I just have to trust that.
“Do you feel alive, Revna?” I lift my head to look at her again.
“I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you,” she whispers. I slam my lips against hers. I want to drink those words. I want to tattoo them over my heart. I want to hear them in my ear until I breathe my last breath.
She grins, and I carefully lift myself and then her off the canvas. Then I pick her up bridal style and we look down at the piece of nine representing our first time. She kisses my cheek and returns with a pink spot on her dusty lips. “It’s perfect,” she says. I nod, looking at our handiwork. It’s a little more wild this time. The streaks of pink are bold and eye-catching, and I think her butt is pressed into the edge.
