Page 111 of Just Until You Love Me

I press my face harder against her stomach, arms tightening around her like I can anchor her in place. “Then let me bleed for you. However you need it. However you’ll have me. I’ll give you everything, Eden. Even the parts I swore nobody would ever see.”

Her hand keeps stroking, softer now, like she’s already letting me back in. And I want her so bad it’s a physical ache. I look up, our eyes locking. Her lips are parted, her breathing softer now.

All I can think is that she’s mine.

She drops to her knees in front of me, and it’s such an act of acceptance I feel a sob forming in my throat. Damn it, I hate emotion. I hate all of it.

I just want her. Nothing else. I reach for her face, using my thumbs to wipe away the dampness on her cheeks. And she stares at me, like I’m the one who can make everything better.

“Eden,” I say hoarsely.

“Kiss me, West.”

It’s like she can read my mind. My body. Maybe even my dark soul. I lean forward. Her breath mingles with mine, shaky and hot, and I can taste the salt of her tears before our lips even touch. Then I press my mouth against hers, harder than I intend, tangling my fingers into her hair as I claim her.

She groans, low and hard, her fingertips scratching my face, my body. I can’t tell where I end and she begins, all I know is that I can’t stop this. This attraction, this need to reclaim her.

Her dress bunches around her hips before I know my hands are moving, silk sliding over my knuckles as she pushes me back. Then she’s straddling me, hot and wild, her mouth fused to mine. There’s no patience, no teasing.

I yank at my zipper, shove my trousers down just far enough, and she sinks onto me in one frantic thrust that rips a groan from my throat. Her cry is muffled by my mouth, her nailsbiting into my shoulders as I grip her hips and hold her on me, desperate, savage, perfect.

Fuck.

She rides me hard, her hips snapping against mine, her dress bunched at her waist, her breath shuddering against my mouth. I hold her, locked to me, giving her every dark, jagged piece of myself I’ve spent years burying. Her whimpers melt into our kiss, her body trembling as I thrust into her, raw and unrelenting, desperate for her to know I’m hers.

“Eden,” I rasp against her lips, the word a plea, a vow, a surrender.

Her fingers fist in my hair, her body clenching around me, and then she breaks apart, crying out as she shudders and falls. I go with her, crushing her to me, spilling into her with a groan that feels torn from my chest.

I don’t let her go. Not even when my body is wracked with aftershocks. I hold her tight, her cheek pressed against mine, and whisper how beautiful she is. How perfect.

Mine.

She collapses against me, spent. Boneless. Her face still damp with tears, her mouth swollen from our kisses.

But when she looks at me I see it. The strength. The fire.

The knowledge that I belong to her.

“Can we leave now?” I ask her, brushing away the hair that’s clinging to her cheek. “And as soon as we’re back I want to tell your family about us. I want this all in the open. I’m tired of lying, I’m tired of hiding. I just want you.”

“Yes,” she says, sounding stronger now, her gaze catching mine. “No more lies. We’ve already told too many.”

I nod. “Exactly.” And for the first time since I walked into this library, I feel like I can breathe again.

thirty-one

EDEN

“Are you gonna eat that bacon?” Bennett asks the next morning, already halfway through his own plate as he points at mine. My breakfast looks untouched, and he’s been watching it like a hawk.

It’s almost ten, and West has been locked in conference calls since I opened my eyes. So when Bennett invited me to keep him company at the buffet, I agreed. Better to sit here with him than lost in my own head.

“No, go for it,” I tell him.

Despite hisbanging headache, Bennett hasn’t stopped talking since I pulled my chair out to join him at the table. So far I’ve heard about his encounters with the stars, his terrible pick up lines he used on an actress twice his age, and how he thinks Robert De Niro is his new life coach.

He’s currently showing me Page Six on his phone, who apparently got some photos from the party even though there was a no publicity rule. “That arm?” he says, pointing at a black sleeve. “I’m almost certain that’s me. I’m kind of famous right now.”