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I sucked in a sharp breath when he placed another teasing bite to my too sensitive clit, trying to twist away and close my legs even when his broad shoulders prevented the movements.
A low laugh rumbled in his chest and his dark eyes flashed up to meet mine. With another graze of his teeth along my thigh, he removed his fingers, sliding them down, down, down until my body arched and a plea tumbled from my lips.
“Fuck,” he groaned, teasing me for another second before he removed his hand and gripped my wrists to place my hands flat on the bed again.
He stood from the bed, his eyes swirling with need as he removed his pants and boxer briefs. The heat in my belly intensified when he fisted his length in his hand, pumping slowly as he knelt on the bed between my thighs.
“Say it, Elle,” he begged. “Give me after.”
Before meeting Dare, I was sure when I died, that would be the end.
In reality, I had died, until I found him two years ago in the café. His unconcealed strength, dark yet light force, unforgiving resolve shown through his notes and self-control . . . somehow, even in our silence we’d become us. Our souls had known each other, even in our wordlessness.
As a result, even death couldn’t extinguish what we had.
The connection that hummed between us proved that.
We would always find each other. We would always be together.
So I would love him until the end of this life . . . and then I would love him long after, wherever death took us.
“I’ll be yours forever.”
A stuttered breath ripped from my lungs when he pushed into me. He grasped my hips to hold me still while he pulled out with agonizing slowness, his length trailing over me before he slid back in, inch by inch.
He bent to hover over me, his tongue flicking and flattening against my nipple as his forearms came to rest on either side of my head. And then he moved. His hips rolling to fill me again and again while his whispered words filled my head.
I was his.
He was never letting me go.
Forever. Forever. Forever.
It was the sweetest bliss and purest torture.
I clung to his back, holding tight when he found his release deep inside me.
His mouth brushed along my shoulder when a little aftershock passed through my body and into his. “I don’t know where you came from, Firefly, but, God, don’t ever leave.” His pleading eyes met mine when he breathed, “I love you.”
After. Please . . . love me after.
Dare and I spent the night wrapped up in each other, eating Thai and laughing over stories of what it was like growing up with his generation of Borello members. We’d spent hours kissing and touching, learning what drove the other crazy.
All the while I knew it wouldn’t matter come morning.
And when he’d finally fallen asleep, I allowed myself a few minutes in his arms before I’d slipped out of bed to dress, fighting back tears the entire time.
For the first time, I let myself linger.
I told myself we could figure things out. I told myself he would get past his need for revenge if he knew who Lily O’Sullivan was. But I knew I was only kidding myself.
So Beck had found me waiting outside the house he’d dropped me off at the night before, thinking over my time with Dare and trying to commit it to memory.
He took one look at me when I slipped into the passenger seat and let loose a sigh, squeezing my hand in a wordless apology.
He knew.
I bit down on my cheek, forcing myself not to cry in front of Beck. He wouldn’t understand my tears—would most likely be insulted by them. I had to be thankful he’d given me one last night with the enemy who had become my everything.
