Page 89 of Rivals
“Mmm, let me hear it again,” he says while his fingers curve, hitting that spot just right. My eyes roll back into my head. I cry out in a sharp gasp and collapse onto the canvas. Lachlan crawls back over me, kissing his way up my back. He lands on my neck, where he takes a deep breath against my skin, pulling more shivers from me.
He turns me to my side because I have no energy to move, and he lays down on his. He draws my thigh up over his hips while my head lays on my arm. He glances down at my blue and white body and smirks. “I wish I had a camera,” he mumbles.
“It would last longer,” I mutter back. He throws his head back and laughs.
“You’re right, but this picture is only for me, so I’ll just keep it safe up here. I’m building a whole gallery.” He wiggles his eyebrows and taps on his temple. I grin, and his lips smear onto mine. The collision of pain and understanding rips through me, and I gasp from the feeling.
He doesn’t stop while I heave for air as he kisses my neck, sucking the place behind my ear as I moan again. His grip on my thigh is so tight it could leave bruises as he ever so gently pushes into me. It stings for just a moment, but he pulses his hips, giving my body a chance to adjust until there is not a centimeter of space between us. Lachlan drops his head into my neck and groans. I need him to move. To meet the drive that my body is begging for.
“Lach, please,” I whimper. He thrusts again, and we groan at the same time as he picks up his pace. Our hands are all over each other and the canvas. He drives into me while he takes in each reaction and noise. His expression is focused as he uses every bit of restraint to hold himself back until I’m almost there. I’m almost to the edge, and he inhales roughly, pulls away, and flips me again so my back is to his front.
He grips my thigh again and plunges into me from behind. The new angle rips a low moan from my throat. His hand comes to my chest and squeezes. Then he slides between my breasts and grasps my neck, holding me to him. “Don’t you feel that, Revna?” he pants against me. I nod in his hold. “Don’t you feel what’s between us? I know you do, baby. I can see it,” he says under sharp breaths. He kisses my neck and pants against me. I lift my arm behind me to grasp onto his neck. His rhythm falters, and I know he’s close.
“Baby, I can’t hold on. Fall with me,” he grunts. I whimper, overwhelmed, and he drops his head to kiss me. It’s sloppy and messy, full of so much fervor that a tear slips from my eyes. Our moans and gasps echo around the room. We don’t just fall over that nearly transparent edge; we leap. We plunge down together as Lachlan loses all sense of control.
Right as my orgasm reaches its peak, he slides his other hand from my hip to my center, furiously bringing me back up. “Give me another one. One more, little bird. I want to see you fly,” he grunts. I can feel him within me, and it doesn’t take long. I make a strangled noise, and every muscle in my body clenches with ecstasy as a shrill scream pierces our ears.
“That’s my girl. That’s it, Revna.” His encouragement rolls through me, and I lose control of my muscles as I shudder against him. He holds me through it as I fall apart and glues me back together.
Blood finally rushes back to my brain while he gently pulls away, and I turn to face him. I tilt my chin, and he kisses me so reverently that it sparks a different type of ache. A stitch that digs into my heart so deeply, I know that Lachlan will forever be a part of me. He’s right; I feel what’s between us. It’s not just our bodies merging into one—it’s more. I feel the snap of that bond between us like it’s something not of this world. He makes me feel like everything was worth it. I’m not well-versed in the word love, but I know deep in my gut that’s what this is. I’ve never said that word out loud because I’ve seen what it does. It leaves you with nothing because you hand it all to the person who said they would care for it.
I didn’t have a choice when my mom abandoned me at a fire station for someone else to deal with. I have a choice now, but I won’t say the words. Because I know if I do, I can never take them back. Of all things to treat carefully, those three words should be given with every bit of my tattered and broken heart.
Chapter 54
Lachlan
Ilaytherestaringat Revna as her eyes droop. I knew she was mine the moment she pried her way into my iron heart without even trying. I felt the snarl of the bond when our beasts met for the first time. They recognized each other as if they had spent lifetimes together. I remembered as the sun cast out the shadows surrounding her. She’s not just my muse, she is my match. I could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way her body moved against mine. Some part of her is still fighting us, but I know she feels the same. She needs time and may get there, but I need to accept that she may never say the words I want to hear.
But I also know someone has to grab the courage to be first.
I want to see what we made, so I gently shake her awake and lift myself off the canvas. We’re covered head to toe in blue and white paint. I hold back the laughter because it’s quite a sight. She holds her hands up and I take them, pulling her to her feet.
She turns around and tilts her head at the chaos that is this canvas. She grins and looks at me. “I like it.”
I grip her neck and pull her to my mouth. “I love it,” I murmur against her lips. Her eyes spark molten and dark. This night isn’t over.
I take her hand and pull her into the bathroom to scrub all this half-dried paint off our bodies. It’s going to take both of us because I’m sure it’s in places neither of us can quite reach.
“Do you feel better, baby?” I grip her chin and gaze into her dark pools. She nods in my grip and I lean down to kiss her again. I palm her lower back and pull her closer to me. I smile at her, studying how the paint covers her chest and smears down her front.
“What?” she asks.
I chuckle. “Look at you.” She looks down and picks at some dried paint on her stomach.
“Looks like a good time.” She peeks up through her long eyelashes that fan across her cheekbones. My heart falters in my chest as she smiles at me. I almost reach for something to hold onto because it blows me away.
The shower starts to steam and I grab her wrist to pull her in. Her giggles echo in the space. I spin us around and hold her under the spray. She yelps and closes her eyes as the water pelts down over her hair and face. She spits the water out and I rub my hand over her face. “Hey!” she yells again.
Once the paint is off her face, I spin us again and stand under the spray to do the same thing. I open my eyes and find her staring at me as she laughs into her hand. I pull it away and kiss her palm. “You are a mess,” she says. I tip my eyebrow, looking her up and down.
“I could say the same.” I take her hand and spin, yanking her back into me tightly so she doesn’t slip. White and blue paint is all over her back and down to the backs of her thighs. It sticks to her knees and elbows. Every inch of her is covered.
She goes quiet for a second. Her smile drops and I think I’ve lost her. It only lasted for what felt like seconds, but we had it, and I’m grateful for the moment regardless. I hope it got to her like it did me, and this is a step in the right direction for both of us. I want what’s best for us. And part of that is her staying sober. “Thank you,” her voice rasps like sandpaper on rough wood.
“What for?” I ask her. She rubs her hands up and down my chest, scrubbing the paint away. I watch her search for the right words.
“Thank you for being strong enough for us.” I scrub the paint off her back while she looks up at me.
