Page 212 of These Tears

As his grip eases, I wrench my hands from his and my fingers thread through his hair, keeping him just… there.

Right there…

A sigh breaks out of my mouth as he does something feral with his tongue.

Just as the pressure starts building, he pulls up to my face. The loss of him almost makes me complain with a need so violent I see spots.

And then he’s right where he needs to be – poised at the precipice of the final boundary we have yet to cross.

His weight settles hard between my legs, and he punches through the obstruction. The stretch steals the air from both our lungs as the tip of him settles inside me. He chokes out a sound like a man wounded, forehead dropping to my shoulder as we lock together, my body stretching around him, shaky and alive.

There’s no going back from this.

Our fingers thread as if our bodies need the anchor. He holds tight, I hold tighter.

Pain, relief, hunger and release – all crash together as the wall between us finally, irrevocably breaks.

He doesn’t move though, and it’s almost worse than if he did. Just the feel of him inside me, buried only a small fraction of the way, has my body clenching in desperation.

Our chests are pressed together. The rasp of his beard against my neck sends tremors down my muscles. And he still holds back.

Every inch of me aches with the shock of him. I’m gripping him as if my body has already claimed him.

‘Elias…’ I breathe.

One breath.

He lifts himself onto his elbows, our breaths crashing against each other as he hovers over me.

His pupils are still wide, but there’s panic and horror bleeding into his face.

The hunger drains from it. His eyes dart over mine, then down between us, then back again.

Every muscle of his body goes rigid at once. The air he takes in does not leave him, and his eyes flick over my face with a frantic, searching terror that does not belong to the man who just forced his way past beasts and through everything else to get inside me.

Recognition washes cold over me.

‘Hey…’ I croak.

He flinches as if my voice has struck him harder than my palms earlier.

His eyes close for a moment.

‘No,’ he breathes.

‘Look at me.’

Then again, worse. ‘No—’

He moves as if he means to tear out of his skin. His arm slips; his shoulders give, and for a terrifying second, I think he might bolt blindly through the door – straight back into the ice and the wolves and whatever punishment he thinks he has earned.

He is no longer with me, no longer seeing me.

His weight shifts away.

I ease my hands free from his, so slowly he can see each movement coming before I complete it.

‘Elias,’ I whisper.