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My responding laughter has him grinning against my throat, his tongue lapping at my pulse which is throbbing in time with another part of my anatomy. “I thought you’d never ask.”
With one last intense kiss, York pulls me to my feet and into the bathroom. Grasping my hips he lifts me up and positions me on the vanity unit. “Don’t move,” he says.
I’m too worked up to respond, instead I watch him as he turns on the shower, before yanking off his t-shirt in that sexy way only men seem able to do by grabbing behind his head and pulling. My eyes drop to the beautiful tattoo that decorates his chest and arms.
“This is the tree we met under, isn’t it?”
He nods, stepping towards me. Taking my hand, he places it on his chest. “It took a week of trips to the tattooist to finish this. I relished the pain,” he sighs. “I hated you for a long, long time, Titch.”
“I know,” I mutter, as my fingers trail over the trunk and up across the branches that extend over his upper chest, shoulders, and biceps. York’s skin erupts in goosebumps at my touch, and his cock jerks beneath his joggers.
“But I never,ever, stopped loving you. Even if I can only admit that to myself now.”
My gaze lifts to meet his and the truth of his confession is right there in his eyes. “Why didn’t you stop me?” I ask softly. It’s a dangerous question, but I can’t seem to help myself from asking it.
“Stupidity, mainly. Anger. Teenage pride. Hurt. Take your pick.”
“We were kids…” My gaze drops, my chin falling to my chest. “Iwas a kid.”
“You were. We were. But we aren’t those kids anymore, are we?”
“No, we aren’t.”
“We’remore—” York lifts my chin with his finger and presses his hot mouth against mine, his tongue searching, probing. I respond, helpless against his ministrations as he presses up against me. I can feel his cock rubbing against my core as my legs wrap around his arse, and my fingers tug at the shorter strands of hair at the nape of his neck. York grasps me to him, his hand on my lower back as he encourages me to grind against his length before ripping his mouth away from mine, one hand cupping the back of my head. His eyes gleam as he stares down his nose at me, his hot breath coming in short pants.
“If it hasn’t escaped your notice, we’remennow, Titch.Capablemen. Some would even say we’re dangerous, violent, and they’d be right. We might have been teenagers blinded by pain once upon a time, but it’s different now. I’m just sorry it’s taken me so long to see what was right in front of my face. Zayn’s filled me in on everything he suspects. We’re on the same wavelength. I need you to know that.”
“York, I can’t—”
“You can’t talk to us right now. You’re not sure if you can trust us. I know that too, but I also know this. If you tell me what’s in there,” he says, bringing his finger up to tap my temple gently, “And you open up here,” he adds, resting his palm over my beating heart, “then I swear to you, Titch, we’ll make this right.”
“We?” I ask, my heart thumping, my pulse rushing in my ears. “Because I know that isn’t true.”
York sighs, scraping a hand through his hair. “I’m working on that.”
“It’s just like when we were kids,” I mutter.
“Titch. You’re wrong, it’snothinglike when we were kids.”
“Dax refuses to even look at me.”
“Dax took it the hardest when you left. He’ll come around. I know him.”
“And Xeno? He certainly doesn’t like that Zayn and I have reconnected. Once he finds out about us—”
“I love Xeno like a brother,” York says, cutting me off, “But I sure as fuck don’t take orders from him.”
“No, is that because you take orders from Jeb?”
York grits his jaw tightly, and I can hear his teeth grinding together. “I did.”
“And now?”
“And now things have changed.”
“Why are you here, York?” I ask, my eyes searching his. For a long time he doesn’t answer, and I realise it’s because he doesn’t know whether to trust me either.
“I tell you what, we’ll make a deal. Today, we bench this talk. Today, we forget about everything in our past and just concentrate on the here and now. Be in the present with me, Titch. Can you do that?” He cups my face, his thumbs pressing into my cheekbones as he watches me.
“Yes, I—”
York doesn’t let me finish my sentence. Instead, he smashes his lips against mine and tugs me in for a kiss that silences all my reservations and turns my insides into mush. This boy—no, thisman, can kiss. The gentle sweep of his lips against mine has gone, replaced instead with a single-minded determination to get me off.
Within seconds our clothing is nothing but a pile on the bathroom floor and we’re standing naked in front of each other. York grins down at me, the most beautiful, dazzling smile pulling up his lips. I reach up and yank on the flop of hair in his eyes just like I used to do so much growing up. His grin widens.
“Zayn may have got to you first, but right here and now, you’re mine, Titch. You’re mine.”
