Page 63 of Bound By Flames
Yeah, I can be a fucking poet when I try.
Her lips part as I squeeze her hips harder, her chest facing me because that’s how small my girl is. Her dangerous gaze drifts to my mouth as she licks her lower lips, sending waves of electricity through me.
Come on, Mia. Let me in.
Then, she nods, ever so slightly, as if my words had cut through her walls. I pull her hips down and make her straddle me as I sit on the floor, droplets of hot water falling on us asmy palm reaches the side of her face, watching for a second the masterpiece in my hands, her dress soaked and her hair sticking to her shoulders, making her look like a vision coming out of a dream.
“Mia,” I rasp before closing the gap between us, pressing my lips to hers in a soft and hard kiss, her mouth responding immediately to me as if she’s made for this, for us. Her hand drifts to my shoulders, pulling her body closer to mine as the heat pumps through us, our gasps swallowed by the sound of water dripping on us. Resting my hands on her back and nape, I kiss her deeply, her sweet cinnamon scent invading my every thought, her soft skin my every dream, her small moans my every desire. She tastes like candies and blood. When we finally pull apart, she rests her head instinctively on my chest, out of breath, tracing circles on my shoulder with her index.
I kiss her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. “Let’s gohomenow.”
Chapter 15
Mia
Ares brought me back to the house last night after giving me a clean black shirt to put on in place of my drenched dress. We took the backdoor of the club, far from the crowd, and drove home in his suv. He talked a bit with Carter and Ash in the parking lot before we left, giving them directives for something. We didn’t talk the whole way home, the weight of what we had done hanging heavy in the air.
I thought this marriage would be a golden cage filled with loneliness and indifference. But Ares keeps knocking the walls down around my heart with a hammer made of trust and determination.
Could I handle it?
Was I too broken to give him the keys to my heart?
Or was I blinded by hope and seeing what I wanted to see?
I was holding on to my issues, their familiarity grounding me, helping me know who I was. I wish I were one of those girls going to therapy and making cute quotes on their social media, telling people to accept happiness and not let their traumas define them.
Only mine do.
They are me, and I am them.
And with Ares sliding through the cracks of my battles, I was starting to see the light, the promise of healing in and out of my body. My fingers tingle at the realization.
What would my life be if I didn’t have to fight for every meal? If I didn’t have to be afraid of coming home? Was I capable of creating such a life?
Tossing and turning in the sheets, I look at my husband sleeping, the morning light cutting through the velvety curtains. The many cuts on his chest, arms, and face were cleaned and stitched by the Doc who came and fixed him up when I was doing my skincare last night. This old man must have seen it all.
“Hi,” Ares says, his voice still sleepy and raspy like gravel. His green eyes open slowly, the light hitting him too hard for his liking. There’s a cut on his brow and one on his lips, but still, describing him as handsome would be the understatement of the year.
I smile internally because that’s the first time I find him…adorable?
Mia, stop it.
I like him.
I like my grumpy, dangerous, moody, control freak of a husband.
Sue me.
Our kiss last night is still haunting me, the softness of his lips and the roughness of his hand sending shivers down my spine and making my belly fill with butterflies.
“Hi,” I say softly, turning on my side to face him, my hand under my head. “It’s already nine-thirty, in case you want to go back to the club—”
“Nah,” he rasps, “I’ll go back in a bit.”
“Are you sick?” I hold back from touching his forehead as if he might have a fever from last night's fight. He chuckles, his voice low and thick, holding my heart in its grasp.
“We got somethin’ to do this morning,” he states as I look at him.
