Page 28 of Burned By Sin
Chapter Seventeen
Sirens wail again, like they always do. They bend through my skull like ghosts of a night that never ends, red and blue lights stuttering over wet brick, over my hands, over her. Harper stands where Jeremy used to. The same alley, same slick walls, but her hair glows gold under the flash. Her lips move, but no sound comes out. All I hear is the rain, pounding onto my head and streaming down my back, slapping the concrete where I kneel like a man praying for redemption. Beneath it, the crack of a gun that hasn’t been fired in years.
I reach for her, just like I reached for him, my fingers slick with guilt I’ll never wash off. She takes a step back, her green eyes haunting and filled with pity, that same look she gives me when I promise her things I can’t keep. I’ll protect you. I’ll fix this. I’ll save you. Lies that rot the air. Behind her, the door to the vault creaks open, spilling light so bright it burns.
“Clay,” she whispers finally, her voice breaking like glass shattering all around me. “You can’t be my savior. You can’t even save yourself.”
Suddenly, she’s standing amongst blood-soaked snow instead of that alley. Her breath clouds the cold air as her knees hit the ground. Once again, I’m on the outside looking in. Too far away, too slow to act. The gun in my hand morphs into the trembling fist I once used to knock onher dorm door, to check if she wanted me to walk her to class. Sirens morph into the sound of her laughter echoing down the lodge hallway. Both end the same way. Suffocating silence.
“I c-can help. I…want to try,” I rasp, but the words fall apart before they reach her. My lungs ache like they did when the cops dragged me from the ground, like I’m still gasping on concrete. I want to say she deserves someone better, someone who isn’t stitched together with regret, but my throat won’t form the words. When I blink, she’s gone, leaving only the echo of my promise and the resounding certainty that I was never meant to be anyone’s savior. Not then. Not now.
I jolt awake, a sound I don’t recognize coming out of me. A strangled, broken gasp that scrapes my throat raw. My chest heaves like I’ve been running for miles, the air too thick to breathe. For a second, I don’t know where I am. The walls are wrong, the light is wrong, the silence iswrong. My mind’s still in the alley, in the snow, sirens flashing, blood slicking the ground, Jeremy’s lifeless eyes and Harper’s unresponsive body alternating with each blink.
“Clayton,” a soft voice gasps, small hands shaking my shoulders. Strands of loose hair trickle onto my cheeks, concealing eyes that bore straight into my soul. The room starts to form around me, the lodge coming back from the brink of my mind. A digital clock beside the bed shows its ten minutes until midnight. I drag my hands over my face, pressing the heel of my palms to my eyes until black spots bloom behind them. It’s still Christmas, and I’m still bleeding from places no one can see. Harper’s hand slips to my jaw, her grip tight and trembling. “Hey, you’re okay. It was just a dream.”
I take her wrist in mine, peeling her hand away. My head’s still spinning, my heart not believing it’s her. She looks too perfect to be real, tooalivefor me to trust it. I watched her fall. I felt the judder of her last breath as if it was my own. Yet as I lie there, the truth seeps through the icy chill claiming my bones.
Harper’s skin feels warm against my palm, too warm to be a ghost. I trace the shape of her wrist like I’m memorizing proof of life, the faint pulse thudding beneath my thumb. Harper doesn’t pull away. She watches me explore, waiting for me to realize she’s here, and she’s not going anywhere. A shudder escapes my chest, half a sob, half a prayer, and before I can stop myself, I’m dragging her closer. My hand slides up the back of her neck, tangling in her hair as I press my forehead to hers.
Her breath catches, our noses brush, and then her lips find mine. She means for the kiss to be gentle, careful not to jar me too quickly, but that’s not what I need. Pulling her flush against the length of my body, every ounce of fear I’ve swallowed for months is poured into where our mouths connect. Every sleepless night, every moment I thought I’d lost her for good. My fingers twist in the fabric of her nightshirt, clutching like I’m afraid she’ll disappear once again.
The world blurs to nothing but the slide of her mouth and the soft sounds she makes when she exhales. I kiss her like she’s the only thing that’s ever tethered me to this planet, like if I stop, I’ll fall straight back into the nightmare. She murmurs my name against my lips, and it’s the sweetest, most agonizing sound I’ve ever heard. It doesn’t matter that my heart’s still racing or that the tears haven’t stopped, she’s here. She’s here, and I can finally breathe again.
When we break apart, our foreheads still touch. Harper’s thumb drags over my cheek, catching a tear before it falls. I can’t look away from her, not even as I fall apart in a way I’d never want her to see. The air between us changes, hanging on a thread of fragility. Whatever this is, it’s a twisted combination of heartache and relief, enough to silence every ghost that’s ever haunted me.
“I need to have you,” I whisper, hoping she has her receivers on. Whether Harper hears my words or senses the stirring of my body, her breath trembles against my mouth. I can taste that she wants me in the same way, but she’s hesitant. Maybe she’s worried the way my body responds to her is a desperate distraction for the images in my head, butthat couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m laser focused on what matters, what I’ve been holding myself back from for too long.
Trailing her fingers down my jaw, Harper’s hold settles over my chest, feeling the pounding of my heartbeat against her palm. I’m alive, and she’s the one who’s pulled me back from the edge. Closing the distance between our lips, Harper kisses me with a tenderness I’m not used to as her hand drifts lower, tracing the rise and fall of my ribs. The contact burns in the most delicious way.
Every part of me comes alive beneath her touch. Our legs become tangled as I slide an arm around her waist, unable to face any reality where she’s not pinned against me. Her hand continues its journey, the very tips of her fingers grazing the waistband of my boxers. I stifle a sound against her mouth, tilting my hips upwards. Harper doesn’t hesitate, peeling the material down my thighs as if she’s been waiting for this just as long.
Somewhere across the room, a shuffling pricks at my ears. That’s when I know Harper can’t hear, because she continues to kiss and tease me with her nails, oblivious to the small square foil being tossed onto the pillow beside my head.
“Impregnate my girl and I’ll cut your dick off,” Rhys grumbles, stalking away as quickly as he arrived, slamming the door behind him. I reach up to retrieve the condom packet, confusion quickly slipping away as Harper wraps a hand around my dick. I gasp against her skin, my mouth falling to her jaw. Her touch feels so much better than my own. She strokes me leisurely, my shaft feeling like silk against her small palm.
I wish I could hold off, to adore Harper the way she deserves, but I’ve been waiting too long for this. Pushing the condom into her other hand, the ghost of her laughter fluttering across my stubble, I reach between us. My hands feel gigantic against Harper’s thigh, her breath hitching as I stroke upwards to find her without underwear. She was asking for trouble running in here to console me like that.
Sitting upright, Harper straddles my hips, her legs primed open forme. Gliding my fingers across her center, I tease her wetness towards her clit, rolling the bud in achingly slow circles. Her hand returns to my cock, my shaft solid and pulsating now, as we stoke each other’s desire higher. Her soft groans blend into mine, her thighs quivering. My fingers run the length of her slit, teasing her opening before gliding upwards again.
Every time I almost push inside, Harper’s entire body tenses in preparation. She grows frustrated before I do, sheathing my dick with the latex and positioning herself over me. I wish she could hear the words that linger on my tongue, how I’d encourage her to go gentle. I don’t know what Rhys is packing, but I know my own girth. Instead, I grip her hips, slowing her descent as she tries to take all of me at once.
Lifting her in short bursts, I ease into her, inch by inch, giving her time to stretch to accommodate me. She doesn’t reach the base but it’s enough, our desire taking over. Slamming her hands onto my chest, Harper takes over, bouncing her ass into the air. I grip the nightshirt, ripping it over her head. This is our first time together, I want her bared to me, even in the dark. My hands feel calloused against her skin, her ribs shifting and breasts bouncing. I cup them, kneading and brushing my thumbs over her nipples, discovering one of them is pierced.
In the shadows, I watch the outline of her head tilting back, her hair tickling my thighs. She’s a goddess. A woman who has walked through the ashes of hell and come back fighting. A soul so pure, I’m in awe of her. The palms on my chest shift to either side of my head, Harper’s mouth coming back to me. God, I hope she always comes back to me. The storm inside my chest rages against the tempest she creates around us. Her pussy is so tight, so blissfully sweet, I know there’s no way I’ll last for her the way I’d like.
Smoothing my hands down her back and over her ass, I hold tight and roll Harper onto her back, not breaking our connection. As her legs part wider, her pussy takes me deeper, so does her mouth. I push my tongue inside, dancing with hers as I thrust harder, claiming herdeeper. Arching her back, Harper takes all of me at last, and we groan in unison at the perfection of it.
For once, I don’t try to control everything. I just let it happen, the natural rhythm of my body harmonizing with hers. Our heartbeats sync, our mouths dragging over patches of skin and jaw, teeth nipping lightly. It’s not about hunger or possession. It’s about the ache beneath my ribs that matches hers. About needing to feel alive after too many nights of detachment. When she sighs my name, it’s quiet, like a plea in the dark. A promise I can’t deny.
“I’m here, Beautiful,” I mutter the vow to myself. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m all yours.”
Chapter Eighteen
Smirking to myself, I open my new, leatherbound notebook. New year, new notebook. It’s incredibly naïve and nerdy of me to believe that will resolve the world’s problems, but I smile anyway. Give this girl a fresh page and a sweet coffee, and she feels unbeatable.
Not to mention, both Clay and Rhys are beside me, ready to see our first day back in true student fashion. Well, ready might be a stretch for Rhys, who is slumped back in his seat. I’ve read the words,fuck my life, on his lips at least six times this morning, but he forces a sarcastic smile and thumbs up every time I glance over. It’s ready enough.
Then there’s Clay. His shoulders are pushed back, as is his hair. Blond waves tamed away from his face without the need of a beanie. I can’t hide my smile, pride swelling in my chest. Both at the progress he’s made, but also at myself. Yay for a strong female who can shoulder burdens until her man’s ready to take them back. If he is my man, but after Christmas night, I can’t help but believe he is.
