Текст книги "Dangerously Broken"
Автор книги: Eden Bradley
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
CHAPTER
Four
JAMIE TOOK HER hand and began to lead her from the office and through the door that led to the shop. Some small part of Summer’s subspaced brain was in awe of the fact that she was naked except for her shoes, her ass warmed by the stunning Jamie’s wonderfully cruel hands, her body soft all over after coming at his command. And now he was taking her into an auto shop of all places to do God only knew what to her. She’d never felt more blissful. She refused to acknowledge the small part of her psyche that was screaming at her to run before she got hurt—heart-hurt.
Nope. Not thinking about it.
But what the . . . ?
“What the fuck, Jamie? Really? You keep a play bag at work?” she couldn’t help but ask when he grabbed a black duffel bag from a chair by the door and slung it over his shoulder.
“Is ‘what the fuck’ a safeword, Summer Grace?” he asked with a small chuckle before he must have recognized the look on her face. “Ah. Sweetheart, I have never played anyone else here.”
She smiled—she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stand to think that he regularly brought women to his shop for play. It was different than The Bastille, in her mind, however unreasonable that might be. But she was unreasonably thrilled that his shop was virgin territory, that he was popping its cherry for her.
“But yes,” he went on, “I keep a spare play bag in here for those nights I work too late to go home before I head to the club. The equipment is limited, but there’s enough in there for me to work with. Don’t you worry.”
“Lack of toys is not what I’m worried about,” she muttered, quietly pleased that he’d let her get away with breaking her silence. She shook her head as he pulled her along behind him. She would never understand how he could be so sweet and still so purely Dom-like at the same damn time. But she had to admit it was working its magic on her. Big-time.
Jamie flipped a switch on the wall and one section of the shop lit up. She’d been there before—she’d dropped by a number of times over the years, hoping to entice him—but never after hours. The place was so clean you could eat off the floor—everything shining chrome and the gorgeous mural on the back wall of vintage muscle cars: a Mustang, a GTO and a Corvette, all done in matte black against a background of gradually deepening shades of blue. The black-and-chrome tool chests were in neat rows against the walls, punctuated by wall-mounted counters. There were work bays with pits, some with different types of lifts—she thought that was what they were called, but her brain was cloudy—in sleek black and red. The place was really some car perv’s fantasy. She couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her.
Jamie turned to her. “What are you finding so funny, sugar?” One brow was lifted, and there was both humor and menace in his tone, which she loved.
A shiver went through her. She was naked in Jamie’s auto shop and this was crazy! But she liked the crazy. “I just realized that cars are one of your fetishes.”
“You just now realized that?” he asked. “And I thought you knew me so well.”
“I thought I did, too,” she said, only then realizing there was an awful lot about this man she’d missed.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, his biceps flexing deliciously against her bare skin. “Now is when we really get to know each other, Summer Grace.”
All she could do was nod. Desire was a simmering fire in her body. Desire and a little titillating fear about what was going to happen. And as if he sensed her fear he bent and brushed his lips across hers, fanning the flames of need, sending a shock of pleasure deep into her system.
Oh yes. This is what I need.
She sank into him as he pulled her in closer, nibbling on her lips, licking them, then kissing her hard and deep, his tongue exploring. Taking. If she’d had any doubts about what they were doing he made them all melt away.
“You’re going to be just fine, sweetheart. I’ll take very good care of you,” he whispered against her flushed cheek. “I’m going to do some wonderful and terrible things to you. Is that what you want?”
She closed her eyes, breathed him in, let her tongue dart out to taste him on her lips.
Oh yes.
“Exactly what I want. What I need. I’m just . . .”
“What is it? Tell me.”
Her throat went tight, but the words seemed to pour out of their own accord. “Have you ever had your heart’s desire right in front of you and suddenly you realize you hadn’t ever really imagined it could be more than just a dream? And then it’s right there and it seems like a dream. I can’t seem to get ahold of it. It’s like the whole world is wobbling. But yes, I want it, need it. Please, Jamie.”
He pressed his lips to her cheek, kissing it over and over. Then he said quietly, his voice a low rumble, “Yeah. I know exactly what you mean. We are on the same page, sweetheart, at this very moment. But this is what it means to turn it over. Just give it all up to me. You can do it. This is me, Summer Grace, and I will take care of everything.”
“Yes,” she agreed, knowing that was utterly true.
He kissed her cheek again. “Come on, sugar girl.”
He took her hand once more and led her across the quiet shop, their footsteps echoing on the cement floor. He stopped in front of an odd-looking contraption made of red-painted metal framework set on the floor that had some sort of crane or hoist attached to it. The black vertical arm had “Xtreme” painted down one side in big white letters, a row of large squared teeth like a spine up the back and a rod angled off the top. At the end of the rod hung a length of chain, ending in a large hook.
“Jamie . . . ?”
His grip on her hand tightened as he set the toy bag down on the floor. “I suppose you’re wondering what we’re doing here? That, I’m not going to tell you, but I will tell you what this little beauty is. It’s a portable Spider frame straightener—it’s what we use to straighten out the bent frame on a car that’s been in an accident. This baby can hold up to ten tons.” He dragged Summer close and brushed a kiss over her hair. “Now I need to go get a few things, and I want you to wait for me here. Can you do that?”
He pulled back to look at her, and she swallowed, nodded, her head spinning.
“Good girl,” he murmured before kissing her hand, then dropping it and stepping away.
She was afraid to even turn her head to see what he was doing—and her vision was entirely filled up by this torture-chamber device in front of her. She didn’t want to imagine what he’d use this thing for. At the same time that fear only fed the lust spiraling inside her naked body, coiling and raging like a storm in her belly, her breasts, her sex, waiting to be released . . . but only within the safety of Jamie’s control.
Why did she feel as if she were about to lose control in some way she never had before? As if being with Jamie, facing this fear with him—for him—was going to unleash some new element of her sexuality? And being left standing there in nothing but her high shoes seemed utterly perverse.
She waited for him, full of fear and desire and a sort of awe at the force of it all, and she had to keep clenching and unclenching her hands, rocking a bit on her toes in her pretty shoes. When he returned and she heard a hard metallic clink she looked up to see him carrying a long length of heavy chain. Her stomach tightened.
He had an evil grin on his face. She loved it and it pissed her off a little at the same time. But, God, he was gorgeous. Those dimples got her every damn time. And he’d taken his shirt off so she could take in every beautifully muscular line of his tall frame, his pierced nipples immediately drawing her gaze. And that narrow line of dark hair leading its way down into the waistband of the low-slung jeans around his hips was some sort of madly tempting detail of his anatomy. She breathed out on a sigh.
He dropped the chain on the floor with a loud clank that made her jump.
“Need more chain. Don’t you go anywhere.”
She turned her head and kept her focus on his long strides, the way the muscles rippled across his back when he rolled his shoulders. She couldn’t look at the pile of chain on the floor. She couldn’t look at the weird device he was apparently going to chain her to—unless this was just some kind of mind-fuck. She wouldn’t put it past him.
God, was he really going to chain her to that thing?
By the time he returned with another length of gleaming chain her legs were shaking. He let it fall to the floor, and the sound made her jump again, even though she knew to expect it. Oh yeah, if this was mind-fuck he knew exactly what he was doing.
He came up to her and smoothed her hair with gentle fingers. “You scared, sugar?”
She nodded. “I’d have to be crazy not to be.”
“That’s my good girl,” he said. “Don’t think you’re not exactly where I want you.” He pulled back and winked at her.
“Goddamn it, Jamie,” she muttered.
“Yeah, right where I want you.” He leaned in closer, brushed a kiss over her cheek, whispered, “I kinda like it when you cuss at me sometimes. Sometimes. Other times it might simply make me do something evil to you. Since you have a little potty mouth, you’ll just have to see which way it’ll go at any given moment, won’t you, sweetheart?”
She wanted to cuss again, but she bit her lip to keep quiet. She wasn’t sure she wanted to do anything to make the situation worse. Or better, depending on how one looked at it.
“Fuck,” she muttered, turning away from him.
“What’s that, baby? I can’t hear you.”
“Nothing.” She ground her teeth.
Suddenly he yanked her in tight—so hard it rocked her off her feet, but his arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her against his solid body. Before she had time to think he thrust his hand between her thighs, his finger pressing into her.
“Oh!”
“You’re as wet as I expected you to be. You can cuss all you want, but you like this, Summer Grace. You like it a lot. But I want to hear it. Tell me.”
“Jamie—”
“Tell me,” he ordered.
“I . . . I like it and I hate it at the same time.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. That and the breathless tone of your voice, your confusion and your desire. Oh yeah. Makes me fucking hard, sugar. Feel how hard.”
He took her hand and pressed her palm to the front of his jeans, and he was solid iron under the denim, his flesh straining at the fabric. At the same time, he stroked at her swollen clitoris, making her groan. As soon as she began to squirm, he pulled his hand away then pulled her hand from his erection.
“Gotta get to work now,” he said.
“You torture me, Jamie. And yourself, from what I just felt.”
“Mouthy girl. But you’re exactly right. Isn’t that what this is all about for people like us? Because I’ve become certain fairly quickly that you are like me. I think that, new as you are, you understand the flow of energy within this dynamic, don’t you? You get it. So yes, it’s torture for us both, but some divine kind of torture. The wanting. The anticipation.” He moved back in again, kissed her lips quickly, drawing her lower lip between his teeth and biting down just hard enough to hurt. He whispered against her mouth, “I may create the mind-fuck for you, but it’s just as much a mind-fuck for me, having you this close and having to hold back.”
He pulled away and caught her gaze, watching her. A slow grin spread over his face, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him in silent understanding.
“Okay, then. We begin,” he said.
He made sure she was steady on her feet, then turned away and crouched to pull two pairs of leather cuffs—both wrist and ankle—from his toy bag. He straightened, then took one of her wrists, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly. Then he buckled one of the soft cuffs there, pulling it tight, slipping two fingers under it, testing it to allow for circulation. He loosened it and tested it again before he seemed satisfied. He did the same to her other wrist. And as he buckled her into the cuffs her head began a slow, liquid swarming sensation, and she felt herself slipping into that lovely, cloudy place that was subspace.
He clipped the two cuffs together with a carabiner—a sort of metal clip often used in rock climbing—inserted through the D-rings on each cuff, then laced his fingers around the clip and pulled her toward the big red steel frame. As he moved her into position, straddling the center bar with her back to the tall vertical steel rod, the frame looked like some enormous, intimidating monster. Only the fact that it was Jamie preparing to chain her to the monster gave her any sense of safety. She had to concentrate to prevent her legs from shaking. With nerves. With sharp, jolting shocks of desire.
“Stay still,” he told her, and at that moment she couldn’t imagine doing anything other than what he asked of her.
He came back with a short length of chain and she heard him attach it to the hook. Then he took her hands and used another carabiner to clip her cuffs to the chain. Moving in close to her left side, he laced an arm around her waist.
“Hydraulic jack,” he said, squeezing her waist.
She didn’t have time to process what that could possibly mean before she heard a low, groaning hum, and glanced down to see him pressing one booted foot on a pedal on the floor. She heard the hiss of a compressor as the slack in the chain tightened.
“Oh, Jesus,” she said.
Jamie grinned, but he kept his gaze on her bound wrists as her body began to elongate, her arms stretching slowly over her head. Adrenaline shot through her system, along with a feeling of being utterly exposed to him. Powerless in the face of this metal machine, the weight of gleaming chains and the sheer force of the calm dominance he exerted over her.
He ran a hand over her ribs, her stomach, the sides of her breasts, his touch reassuring. Sensual, setting her skin on fire. If only he would really touch her. Put his hand between her burning thighs.
“Jamie . . .” She bit her lip, wanting to beg, knowing she didn’t dare.
“Shh. Be still, sugar girl.”
Finally, when she thought she’d be pulled off her feet, the hydraulics stopped. He moved around in front of her, keeping one of his black-booted feet on either side of the center bar, and a hand at her waist.
“You look unbelievably beautiful like this,” he murmured.
He ran his hands over her sides, pausing to pinch the skin at her waist a little, then over her breasts, spreading his big hands over them. She tried to arch into his touch, but she was stretched tight, almost having to go up on her toes in her high shoes. He pressed on her nipples with his fingers, then he took them between his fingertips and drew them out, pinching a little, then pressed again. The sensation was one she hadn’t experienced before, the pressing, pulling and pinching painful, and all of it pure pleasure. She closed her eyes and tuned in to the sensations. The pressure hurt, more and more as he pressed harder and harder, the pinching and pulling gradually getting harder, too, but the pleasure grew along with the pain. From some distant place she was vaguely aware of her body undulating a little in the chains—as much as it was able to—and of her own panting breath, the small sighs escaping her when something really hurt. When he stopped her eyes fluttered open, and she only had half a moment to focus before he slipped around behind her, with a small kiss brushed across her cheek.
She stood quietly through long moments of silence, but already she was deep enough in that lovely, floaty headspace that she was able to exist in the moment, simply waiting for whatever would come next.
She sensed the cool metal before the chain links ever touched her skin, then he wrapped the heavy chain around her waist. She shivered with the most exquisite desire. With a small chill from the cold chain. And oh God, she was sinking into this—into whatever he was doing to her. Whatever he wanted to do. When he used more of the carabiners to clip another chain onto the one around her waist she stood in patient silence as he crossed them over her stomach, drew them up over her shoulders and crossed them once more over her back, clipping them there. And even though these chains were purely decorative, doing nothing to actually bind her, they made her feel something entirely different.
“Jamie,” she gasped.
“Do you need to safeword, Summer Grace?” He laid his hand on her back, the heat reassuring. “Are the chains too heavy for you?”
“What? No. No. I just had to tell you . . .” She had to pause, to draw in a breath. “I just had to tell you what I’m feeling.”
“Ah, good girl. And what’s that, sugar?”
“It’s like . . . being held. Like being in a corset, only so much more so. They don’t even have to be tight like a corset. It’s the weight of them. It’s safety. I don’t know if this is making sense.”
“Baby, you have no idea how much sense you’re making to me. It’s my chain fetish come to life. Not everyone gets it. But I can see you do. I can see the goose bumps on your skin.” He ran a finger down her spine and she shivered deliciously. “I can see how damn hard your nipples are.” He ran his fingertips over the aching tips, making her moan. “And I can see your surrender to the chains.”
“Yes, to the chains. But Jamie, it’s you I’m surrendering to.”
He was in front of her in a flash, tilting her chin in his hand, capturing her gaze with his green, green eyes. Then he grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her. His mouth crushed hers, his hands hard on her cheeks, holding her so she knew she couldn’t escape. She didn’t want to. Her lips yielded to his, opening to his demanding tongue—demanding yet so sweet, so soft and wet. And between her thighs she was wet, desire like a wave washing over her, heating her body up beneath the cool weight of the chains. At that moment her entire world was contrast: warm and cold, hard and soft. The pungent scent of motor oil in the air and the clean scent of Jamie’s skin.
Then he grabbed the chains where they were crossed between her breasts in one fist and yanked her in close, his knuckles digging into her flesh, pressing on the bones. She loved it—his control over her, the way he hit the tender pressure points on her breastbone. The passion with which he kissed her. He kept kissing her as he curved his other hand under the chain at her waist, his knuckles digging in there. Then he released her so suddenly she would have fallen had she not been bound to the frame straightener. He came back moments later with more chain, and her sex squeezed at the sight of the glinting metal links in his strong hands.
Oh, yes, please.
Very quickly he used the clips to attach two more chains to the one at her waist, bringing them under and between her thighs and clipping them to the back of the waist chain, so that it was like a harness. The cool lengths of steel on each side of her damp sex were frightening and intoxicating all at the same time. She wanted the chains to squeeze, to pinch her there. Jamie grabbed the chains around her thighs, sliding them up a bit under her buttocks as he lifted her off her feet.
“Oh!”
“Legs around me, sugar,” he told her as he slipped her shoes off.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her wet, open sex against his taut stomach. She groaned.
“Oh yeah, I love the feel of your sleek little pussy on me.” He lifted her up, then let her body slide down an inch or two, just enough to rub her mound and her swollen clit over his muscled abs. “Do you like that, my sugar girl? You’re going to like this even better.”
He shifted and slipped one of his hands under her, the other still holding her up, and he began to pinch her ass, pausing to slap it, then pinching again before dragging his nails over her skin. She loved it all—the lovely pain, the pace of it. Again he built the intensity until she was panting and squirming and soaking wet, her needy sex sliding against his skin. And all she could think was how badly she needed him inside her, how she never wanted him to stop what he was doing.
Going crazy.
Oh, yes. But a good kind of crazy.
He pinched her harder, going for the same spots over and over again, at that tender juncture where her buttocks joined her thighs, until she started to groan, then to squeal at each hard pinch, her body undulating against him. Pain and pleasure were two sides of the same wicked coin, making her head spin.
“Jamie! Please . . .”
“Please what, sugar?”
“Please . . . God, I don’t know!”
“Ah, but I do.”
He shifted again, letting her body hang in the chains, her legs still locked around his waist. She heard his zipper come down. She was vaguely aware of the sound of a foil packet ripping, but her body knew it in every cell, every raw, waiting nerve. Then his sheathed cock was at the entrance to her body, poised there while he fisted his hands around her chained hips.
“Summer Grace. Look at me.”
She kept her gaze on his, blinking up at him. He was so damn beautiful she could barely stand it as he bit his lip and slammed into her.
“Ah!”
She threw her head back as pleasure drove deep into her body along with his lovely, thick cock. But he let one hip go to grab her hair tight, dragging her head back up.
“I said look at me,” he commanded.
She did, and the intensity of sensation she felt multiplied in mere moments. She was on the verge of coming almost instantly.
Jamie tightened his grip on her hair. “Bite it back, baby. Hang on to it. Let’s drive it higher. I want you to come with me.”
She swallowed her climax down, although it remained a hard buzz in her system, her sex tight with need, tight around his cock. He tilted his hips and thrust deep. She moaned. He did it again. And again and again, one hand gripping the chain at her hip, the other buried in her hair. She was completely taken over as he plunged into her, the plunging turning into a hammering rhythm. He was fucking her so hard only the strength of his hold on her and the heavy chains kept her in place, the metal biting into her skin. Pleasure washed across his face, and his brows drew together in concentration. The green of his eyes began to absolutely glow, the look in them wild in a way she’d never seen before. Primal. Dangerous. Seeing it there made her own pleasure soar, until she was barely hanging on. Her clit was pulsing so hard it hurt.
“Jamie, I can’t . . .”
“You can,” he insisted.
“When?” she demanded. She couldn’t help it.
“Look at me. You’ll know.”
His eyes were a force of their own, pulling her in. And she saw it all there—his own desire, the exquisite, renting surge of sensation. She felt herself nod as she tuned in to him on some incredibly deep level, as though his sensations were her own. Her body moved in time with his, his hips slamming into her, hard, harder, brutally. Pain and pleasure. Pleasure and pleasure, his features ragged with it. Then they were coming, both of them crying out.
“Jamie! Ah, God! Yes, yes . . .”
“Fuck, sugar . . . Fuck!”
They shivered, hips crashing together, then slowing, undulating as pleasure peaked, peaked again, then eased like the waves on the shore. Still they moved together, both of them milking their orgasms. Trembling. Panting.
His head dropped to her shoulder. “Jesus, Summer Grace,” he murmured, his Scottish accent thicker than she’d ever heard it in his low, rumbling tone. “You are unbelievable. Just . . .” He paused to draw in a deep breath. “Truly unbelievable, baby. You’re really here with me. Like this. As if we were always going to be here. As if the universe planned this.”
She couldn’t really think. But she knew he was right. “You know what I’ve always thought, Jamie?” she asked him quietly, emotions like a hard shift catching in her chest.
“Except for the last year,” he said.
“No. The only thing that changed was me deciding to step back.”
He caught her face in his hand once more, his hard grip easing bit by bit as he looked into her eyes. Shadows shimmered there, his beautiful eyes going from a dark, mossy green to almost emerald, fevered and brilliant.
“I understand, you know. Looking back, I can’t believe you hung in there as long as you did. But now that we’re here, I want to keep this going. I want to see what we can be. Do you want that?”
She wanted to swoon, all of her girlish dreams coming true in this moment. But something in her knew to protect herself. Had to after all she knew of loss—the kind that happened when someone died. And the kind that happened when the people who were supposed to love you simply stepped out of your life.
Don’t be stupid. Be the smart girl you’re supposed to be. Except that you never have been when it comes to him.
“Jamie. You’re still inside me and I’m still in your chains. Do you think . . . maybe we can talk about this after you take me down and my head is back on straight?”
“What? Of course. Fuck. This isn’t the right time. I know that. I’m being irresponsible. It’s just that when I hold you in my arms, Summer Grace . . . Well, yeah, let’s take you down, baby.”
He stepped on the pedal and there was the low groan of metal parts moving, the sensation of her chains loosening. When they’d gone slack, Jamie carefully unwrapped her, handling her body very precisely, and in some way that made her feel . . . precious. As the words he’d spoken a few moments earlier ran through her mind, emotion spiraled, making her chest ache. For what could have been. For what was right now. With fear about the future—or the lack of one.
What if this doesn’t work out?
Her pulse fluttered. She’d given him her body, and maybe more important, her submission. The stakes were higher than ever. She wasn’t sure she’d land on her feet if he let her fall. Stubbornly, she bit the tears back. She was just subspaced—coming down from the incredible heights of sensation and power dynamic.
Nothing more than that. A simple explanation. It’ll be okay. You can do this.
He kissed her skin where the chains had bitten into her shoulders, so softly it made her want to melt inside. But she fought it. There were places she couldn’t go, even with him. Or maybe especially with him. Places too deep, too dark. She wasn’t sure what was in there herself.
The chains lay in gleaming coils at their feet as he lifted her in his arms, carrying her up the metal stairs that led to a loft area she’d never seen. Her body was soft and pliant against his, seeking the warmth, but inside her a battle was beginning to rage. Her mind was spinning with doubt, possibilities, hope, dread, all at the same time. By the time they reached the top of the stairs and Jamie stepped into a lounge area with a pair of black leather couches, she was biting her lip, biting back the swirling mess of emotion that threatened to come bursting out.
He sat down with her in his lap, pulling a soft, gray blanket from somewhere and wrapping her in it. She was acutely aware of the rough denim of his jeans, the edge of the still-open zipper beneath her thighs. Of his scent—dark, sweet, smoky wood and motor oil and soap, maybe. Familiar. Heady. She could smell his come in the air, and her own. She heard the low whirring of the small refrigerator in one corner, a car going by outside, felt the ever-present humidity of New Orleans. And wondered how she could even notice these things in her present state.
Jamie lifted her chin in his hand, forcing her gaze to his. “Sugar, where are you?”
“I’m here. I’m right here.”
He shook his head slowly. “No, you’re in some faraway place. Talk to me, Summer Grace. Was the play too much?”
“No, the play was wonderful.”
“Then what?”
“It was . . . God, Jamie, it’s everything.” She knew it was all about to explode, but she couldn’t stop it. “It’s the play and the sex and the things you said to me down there.” She squirmed, her fingers catching the edge of the blanket, her muscles too tense to hold still.
Jamie caught one hand in his, lacing his fingers through hers. He said quietly, “Tell me.”
“You don’t see it? The promise that kept you away—you held on to it for years. It’s hard to believe it’s not there anymore, or that your perspective has really shifted. That the shadow of my brother—my wonderful brother—won’t get between us again.” She stopped, took a breath. “It’s us being together exactly as it was meant to be, like you said. But it’s also us being together despite our history, and my brother, and the years of . . . of yearning and anticipation. I can barely stand it—how important it feels. How do we do this? With every other man I’ve been with, I’ve always known exactly what to do. And now, with you, I feel like some virgin. Me, of all people, wide-eyed and innocent somehow—the girl who spent her adolescence sneaking into your bed. How ridiculous is that? But that’s how it feels.”
He’d been watching her very carefully as she spoke, his dark brows drawing together as he tried to understand what she was saying. She knew the words had come out in a tumble of confusion.
“Okay. Okay. It is everything, Summer Grace. It’s intense and a little insane. It’s loaded. Brandon’s presence will always be in both our lives, and losing him the way we did will always affect us. We have that in common, our losses, our brothers. Ian. Brandon. Even my brother Allister sort of withdrew into himself. And we both lost our parents in a way, when losing a child was too much for them to handle. We had to take care of things, take care of ourselves and grow up fast. Don’t think I didn’t see that, that I don’t get it, because out of anyone else in the world, I recognize it. Yeah, it’s all of that. It is important. It will be no matter how this turns out. But how we do this is by existing, being in the moment. That’s how I have to do this. Because projecting into the future has kept me from being with you long enough. Far too fucking long. And now we have this connection that’s powerful and rare, in my experience. Desires we can’t express with just anyone. It feels right, doesn’t it? It’s fucking complicated and insane and beautiful at the same time. It feels so right to me.”
The tears pooled, hot behind her eyelids. She did not want to cry. She couldn’t stand it if he saw her tears right now.
