CHAPTER 32
The Remnants
Nate
I wake slowly,dragged out of sleep by warmth and a weight across my body that used to be familiar. I stay still, not ready to open my eyes, savoring the awareness of her. The press of Robyn’s thigh thrown over mine, the curve of her hip settled against me, her torso draped across my chest like she claimed back that hollowness between my lungs in the night without asking. Her hair brushes my collarbone when she shifts, soft and faintly damp from sleep.
When I finally open my eyes, hers are on me. The morning light caught in her irises widens the gold ring and makes her seem out of reach and otherworldly.
Without tearing her eyes away from mine, she caresses my cheek with her thumb. The touch is measuring, as if she’s trying to decide what comes next. It would be easy to pretend this is normal and our relationship never caved in so completely we both had to entirely rebuild.
She inhales, breathing in the hollow of my throatwhile she digs her fingers into my hip. When she lifts her head, the gold ring in her irises is thinner, almost swallowed by deep tanzanite blue, and her gaze holds sparks of anger, maybe memories. Her fury doesn’t explode, though. It’s suspended, like a cantilevered roof, by invisible strength.
It’s ridiculous how much I want her. Not the easy version from before everything cracked open when I was too chicken shit to really care for what we had. I want this version, anger and all.
My gaze drops to her mouth before I can stop it, and she notices, lips parting open, wet and shiny from her tongue.
“Robyn,” I rasp, my voice breaking around the edge of her name.
Her look holds no softness. I should stop this. Move away and find a different way to make sense of this moment before it turns into another mistake. But I am also suspended between wanting and every unresolved feeling, including my own anger.
She leans in first, stare unwavering, brushing her lips against mine. We move against each other as if it’s muscle memory. Everything’s different, though—the scrape of facial hair against her skin, the feel of her tongue, more demanding than it used to be. Then the kiss deepens, and the madness takes over. She slides her fingers into my hair. I dig mine into her hips until she’s straddling me—my world narrows to breath and heat.
“I need you, Nate,” she murmurs between kisses.
“We’re not ready,” I whisper against her mouth.
She pulls back, just enough for her gaze to meet mine. “Trust me,” she says.
And I choose to trust her, nodding against her lips. “I don’t have condoms,” I mutter.
She shakes her head, a strained puff of air fanning againstmy mouth. “You’re still the only one I’ve ever trusted enough to go without them.”
Her confession hits like a bucket of cold water, reminding me of the thing I shattered between us in the first place—trust. It’s not enough to kill my hard-on, but it stokes this need to reclaim what’s only ever been mine, vanish any trace of how others have touched her. Jealousy, anger, and guilt bubbling together.
I tug at her lip with my teeth. “IUD?”
She nods, unaware of what’s brewing inside me. I drag her into a kiss that’s all teeth and heat and recklessness, then flip her under me. She’s lying spread eagle, her hair fanned out in a halo of midnight curls.
I grab my sleeveless undershirt from the back of my neck and peel it off. Her pupils dilate, and she darts her tongue out to wet her top lip. She stretches her arm out and traces the metal stud hanging from my left nipple against my skin.
“This is new.”
I nod. “And only yours to touch and suck on.”
She arches her brow, her index finger toying with my piercing. “Are you sure? Because yourlipsweren’t just for me.”
I slide on my knees until my hips are between her open legs. I grab her waist and, when she nods, drag her down until her bottom rests against my thighs.
I click my tongue, bitterness clouding my mind in ways I have no right to. “And whenyourlips weren’t mine…” I slide a finger under the hem of her shirt, skimming upward until her flesh prickles beneath my touch. “Could anyone’s lips make you come again and again until you screamed? Lick until you lost track of what was up or down?”
Her chest rises and falls with each raspy breath, cheeks flushed, blue-gold irises stormy with desire. It’s a beautiful sight—the prettiest sight. Yet I can’t control the urge to eraseevery other man so all she can think about is my tongue, my cock,me.
I hook my fingers under her waistband and strip her from her shorts in one quick pull. My mouth is on her ankles the second they’re free, sucking and biting my way upward, her moans turning frantic the closer I get to her core.
“You’re wearing too much clothing.” She pants. “I want to feel you.”
We peel the rest of each other’s clothes off. Until she’s too impatient to get my boxers off and wraps her lips around the stud at the center of the ring I wear. Her tongue swirls over my nipple and metal while my cock weeps for her.
