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I swipe a tear away with the back of my hand and do my damnedest not to cry for him. For the little boy who had no one. For the soldier who was beaten alongside those he’d finally found a family with. Or for the other guys who’ve become my family too.
No wonder they’re all fractured. All of them were left alone in one way or another. All of them were terrorized.
And Wells … knowing him, I can’t imagine how broken he must’ve felt, watching his men suffer. His need to control every detail, to keep his family in a protective dome, makes even more sense.
I clear my throat, trying to mask the anvil of sorrow sitting on my chest. “That’s enough explanation. Thank you.”
He sets his lighter down and kisses my forehead as a smirk dances on his face, his thumb dragging over my lower lip. “Love you, baby girl. You and your wobbly chin.” Those words are spoken in utter adoration, but before I can return his declaration, his tone grows more serious. “I wish we could suspend time and just stay here, but the clock is ticking. We need to figure out the message Ben was sending you with those books.”
“I know,” I whisper, and I hate the raw emotion that crackles through it.
Why did I take our conversation in such a dark direction when grief is already boxing us in?
“It’ll be okay.” His fingertips draw soothing circles on my arms, his chin resting on my head. “We’ll work through it, find that black book, and move past all this. Faster we get it done, faster life can get back to normal.”
Normal? What does normal even look like? This week has been as close as it gets, and even that’s a far cry—we’re in a safe house, on the run because madmen kidnapped me and more may be after me, all due to the fact that my murdered brother had left me a clue to corruption.
Ivy seems to take the death and blood and torture and chaos as an everyday occurrence. Her knack for compartmentalizing really shines in this world. But normal isn’t a word I’ll ever label our life. I suppose getting back to it is still what I want though.
Just not yet, so I slink down his body and peel back his pants and boxers, rasping, “Soon,” as I free him.
His breath billows with a groan as I lock my eyes on to his and take him into my mouth, relishing the feel of him hardening inside me.
It’s all so intense with Liam. The sex makes sense. And him going down on me feels unbelievably intimate because I’d never permitted anyone to do that before him. But blow jobs were my thing.
And yet, with Liam, it’s so much more. Like my insides are being ripped out and sewn back together simply by making him feel good.
Maybe that’s exactly what’s happening because I’ve never been loved so vehemently by anyone. And I’ve never allowed anyone fully into my heart, into the darkest corners. Not like I have with him.
I’m so utterly in love with this man.
I swirl my tongue around the head, lapping at the salty precum and licking down the vein on the underside of his shaft while kneading his balls.
“Fuck. You’re a dream, baby girl.”
He spreads his legs to give me more room, one dropping over the side of the bed, his heel hitting the floor with a thump. It’s clear by his writhing that he wants to fuck my throat, so I drop to the floor, stroking him as I go.
He stands with eager anticipation, and when my eyes offer a subtle assurance for him to have at it, he fists my hair and thrusts his hips forward, ruthlessly slamming into the back of my throat.
Again.
And again.
And again.
“Jesus, Ace. So fucking beautiful, taking every inch of me. I love those goddamn tears tracking down your cheeks. I want every”—thrust—“fucking”—harder—“one. I am the only one who gets those.”
I murmur in agreement, heady from both the pain and the lust lacing through me. Dizzy from the realization that he means all my tears. My grief too.
Other than Ivy and her parents, no one has ever held my sorrow. My parents and grandparents were always too busy nursing their own. Maybe Liam and I are more alike in that way than I realized. I’ll gladly shoulder any anguish he shares with me.
“Mine,” he pants.
His. Only his.
“Touch yourself,” he demands on another mind-numbing pump. “I see you, so needy. Fuck that pretty pussy with your fingers, Ace. We’re gonna come together. I want to see you fall apart while you’re choking on my cock, drool dripping down your chin, gorgeous, watery brown eyes spilling. And fingers knuckle deep in that greedy cunt. Breathtaking.”
God, I love his filthy mouth—no one has ever spoken to me like that. The world melts away when we’re like this.
