Page 113 of The Bones in the Yard

The rough, gasping sound of his voice and my name undid me, and I pulled his hips down hard, my orgasm pumping out of me as I whimpered against his skin, my fingers bruisingly tight on his hipbones, his hand clenched in my hair as his body convulsed around mine, the contractions milking the last of my strength from me as he came.

I buried my face in his shoulder, my hands sliding up his back so that I could hold on to him as tightly as possible.

Because I could have lost him.

I could have given him to the RPD when I’d first realized he was a shifter or left him to St. Cyprian’s. I’d never have known his quirky sense of humor or let him past my asshole exterior. I could have refused to give him my number. I could have not answered his call. I could have doubled-down on my mulish bullshit and not come looking for him. I could have walked away once I knew he was alive. And I could have decided that I was right and not apologized.

And if I’d done any of those things, I wouldn’t be here, with Taavi’s warm body in my arms, his sweat on my skin, or his spicy scent in my lungs.

And the hole that had been in my heart for most of my fucking life would still be there. I honestly wasn’t sure what to do with the fact that it wasn’t. With the fact that my chest felt so full I thought it might split open.

Gentle fingers ran through my hair. “Val?” I could feel the vibrations of my name through the muscle and skin of his shoulder.

I squeezed him lightly, not really able to form words.

My throat was too tight.

I felt him shift and immediately let him go, trying to force my eyes to focus on the pattern of his tattoo as he eased off of me to lie on his side, the fingers of his broken arm grasping my wrist.

“Val, look at me?” The commanding certainty was gone, and he sounded just as vulnerable as I felt. So I looked down at him.

I licked my lips. “Hi.”

He moved his hand, running his fingers along the inside of my arm before tugging me down to lie beside him so that he could kiss me, softly, tenderly. My hand settled on his hip, grounding me with his warmth and solidity.

Then he pulled away, his brown and white eyes searching my lavender ones. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “It’s—” I swallowed. “It’s been a long time since…”

“You had sex?”

“Since I let myself need anyone.”

“Oh, Val.”

His fingers traced my cheek, and I turned to press a kiss against the rough pads. “Thank you,” I whispered into them.

“Val—”

I shook my head, then pushed myself back to sitting. It was too much, and I needed—not to leave, but just to breathe a second. To find stability while the fiction of impenetrability I’d built around myself swayed and fractured.

I stood, and he watched me, head tilted and brow furrowed. “I’ll be right back,” I told him, headed for the bathroom.

I took a few deep breaths as a cleaned myself up, then ran a clean washcloth under warm water to take back to him, swallowing back the tears that threatened so that I could at least face him without breaking.

He didn’t say anything, but I was under no illusions that I was fooling either one of us.

He let me clean him up and toss the cloth into the laundry, although I could feel those beautiful mismatched eyes on me the whole time.

“Stay?” he asked me, his voice small and a little scared.

I nodded, reaching out to run a hand through his silky hair. “Of course.”

Taavi snuggled into the bedding, then held the blankets up.

He didn’t have to ask again.

Still naked, I slipped under the covers, not used to the small size of Taavi’s bed—mine was a queen, and this couldn’t have been larger than a full. But I wasn’t going to complain, especially not when Taavi curled up with his head on my chest, his broken arm resting on my abdomen.

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