Page 103 of For Wrath and Redemption
Carefully, he closes the laptop and sets it on the table beside the couch. Then he leans in, putting his hands on the back of the couch and bracketing me between his forearms. His scent overwhelms me. Woodsy bodywash and sweat. I inhale slowly.
“Are we even now?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Are we?”
I don’t understand the emotion that passes over his face. I want to run my fingers over his lips, but I don’t. His blue eyes bounce between mine like he’s searching for something, and then he shakes his head.
“No. We’re not even. But I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
My chest warms from the inside. He’s not talking about orgasms. He’s not talking about sex at all. It’s so much more. My next breath is shaky, and for some reason, I want to cry. I nod.
“Okay,” I whisper, and then his lips are on me.
He kisses me slowly, tongue caressing mine as we move in time with each other. His calloused hands cup my face. I wrap my arms around his neck. He doesn’t take it further. Doesn’t try to turn things heated.
He doesn’t, so I do.
I slip my fingers in his hair and deepen the kiss. I scoot forward, leaving no room between us. I press my breasts to his chest. I widen my legs so I can pull him closer. When I bite his lip, he groans into my mouth.
He pulls away, so I move my lips to his neck, and he groans again. “We don’t have to do this, Claire.”
“I know.”
I try to pull him onto the couch with me, but he pulls back again and grabs my wrist. He brings my hand between us, opens my fingers, then presses a kiss to my palm.
It’s the softest, most gentle gesture I’ve ever received. The intimacy makes my heart squeeze. It makes my chest ache. I feel cherished. I feel important, and I don’t understand it. I don’t understandhim.
A quiet, terrified part of me prays that this isn’t another trick. If it is, it will break me. There will be no coming back from this for me. Mentally, emotionally, I don’t think I could handle it. I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how. But I’ve fallen so fucking hard for this man, and if he doesn’t feel the same, it will ruin me.
It will ruin me completely.
He traces calloused fingers over my jaw, then cradles my face with both hands. When he presses his forehead to mine, my eyes flutter shut. He brings his lips to mine, then whispers so quietly, it’s barely more than an exhale. His words pass between us like a shared breath. I breathe them in, down my throat, to my lungs, and into my bloodstream. I feel them in my body. In my heart. In every organ. Part of me.
Permanent.
“I promise.”
I kiss him. I kiss him fiercely. I want to breathe him in with those words. I want to make him permanent, and the thought scares me.
The last time I told someone I loved him, he broke my heart. I wasn’t who he wanted. I wasn’t enough, and it sent me spiraling downward at such a rapid pace that I couldn’t recover. I lost control. I almost lost everything.
I pull Jonah closer. I want him on top of me. I want the weight of him to force the past from my memories. He’s here. It’s him. It’s not the same as anyone before him.
“I want you,” I say. “I want you now.”
In one swift motion, he stands and lifts me into his arms. He carries me to the bedroom without breaking our kiss, then lays me gently on my bed. He stands again and takes off his shirt. I do the same. When he undoes his pants, I follow suit. I match his movements step for step, until we’re both naked, and I’m reaching for him.
When his body covers mine, I sigh with relief. I press myself against him, wrapping my legs around his waist. I want to merge us together. Melt him into me. I want his cells to be my cells.Permanent.
I snake my hand between us and grab him. I squeeze his hard cock, and he grunts into my mouth. I guide him through my pussy lips until he’s where I want him, and then I press my hips up as he pushes down.
We both moan when he enters me. He stretches and fills me, then he moves. He pulses slowly, hinging his hips and curving his lower half so he hits me deep. I don’t stop kissing him. I don’t let our bodies separate.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs into my mouth. “You’re perfect, Claire.”
It brings tears to my eyes. My impulse is to protest. To tell him I’m not perfect. I’m dark, and angry, and messed up.I’m not who you think I am.I’ll never be.
I don’t. I keep the confessions inside. I shove them far away, because this momentisperfect. Right now, with him, Ifeelperfect. I feel fresh and clean and new.I love you, I want to say.I love you. Please don’t leave.
