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Fourteen
He kissed her like he was starving, because he was. Like he was gasping for air and she was the only source.
He should’ve told her his plans. He could see that she was a little bit shell-shocked. The rings, the vows, everything, that it had all been a little bit much for her. And it was tearing him apart. Breaking him open. Because he needed her. He needed this. He wanted... He wanted her to feel like his wife. Because she damn well felt like it to him. He wanted this to matter. He wanted it to be everything.
Maybe he wanted too much.
But life had knocked him down and kneed him in the groin enough times for him to know that things weren’t magic. For him to know that this might be hard. For him to know that he might always be competing with a love that had been thwarted before its time had come to an end. And maybe there was no competing with that. Not ever. But he didn’t want to compete anyway. Not really. He wanted to be different. He wanted to be singular. He wanted to be new. He wanted to be Shelby and Kit, nothing that had come before. And nothing that could ever come after. He wanted to be everything.
And so he kissed her, walking her back to the bed as he stripped the tank top, the jeans, the determined nonwedding outfit from her body. Whatever she needed to do. But he wanted her to be his.
If this was the only way to do it, if this was the only way to reach her, then he damn well would. So he stripped her naked, the sight of her bronze curves filling him with awe, filling him with need. He wanted this woman. He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath.
“Lie down,” he ordered. “I want to look at you.”
“Kit...”
“You’re my wife,” he said. “You’re mine.”
And suddenly, a deep feeling of possession burst inside him. He could scarcely breathe around it. Couldn’t think. All he could do was feel.
“Damn, you’re so pretty. So damned pretty.”
The words came out rough, almost violent. But it was a violence in him. Tearing through him, rioting through his chest, making him feel like a stranger to himself.
And there was a glint of something, something like fear in her dark eyes, and he wanted to make it go away. But he also wanted to push. To push past it.
Because every time they came to this point, and it felt like an important thing, they didn’t get further. Something stopped them. There was a barrier that went up, and he didn’t know what that was. Didn’t know how to fight it. And he wanted to. Because he wanted... He wanted everything.
He stood at the foot of the bed and began to take his clothes off slowly.
He looked at her, and he knew that she wanted him. He knew that she wanted this, this thing that burned between them hotter and brighter than anything.
He slowly undid the buckle on his jeans, undressed and moved to the edge of the bed. “Get on your knees,” he commanded. She obeyed, and it was a strange and beautiful thing to see her, still filled with fire, but not fighting against him at all.
“Take me in your mouth, Shelby.”
And he made sure to keep his gaze locked with hers, to hold her captive with his eyes as she moved forward, curling her fingers around his aching cock as she lowered her head to take him into her mouth.
The soft sound she made vibrated through his body, and he thought his soul had exited the building.
Kit was pretty sure he was deceased. A ghost. Just from that soft, slick contact from her lips. Her tongue. She lowered her head and took him in deep, pulling back slightly when it was clear it was a little too much for her. And there was something about it that thrilled him. Something about it that made him feel like a god. And maybe that was wrong. Maybe it was messed up. But he didn’t care. Because... How could it be? How could it be when he just loved her? When he wanted to possess her in every way. That was the thing. When he wanted all of it, every last thing. Her and nothing more. And he wanted... He wanted her to prove to him right now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was more than just desire. Because while it was desire on a level he had never known, it was something more.
She’d been under his skin for a long damned time. And he knew what it was now. That thing that he was so afraid of. That thing he could never name. And why would he? She’d been off-limits to him. In love with someone else. And it was entirely possible she still was. Entirely possible that he was competing against her love for a dead man. And he was alive. So he would make mistakes. He would frustrate her. They were going to have a child together. They were going to be under different stress. And she hadn’t chosen him. Maybe it would be easy for her to resent him. Maybe he would never be able to live up to all that. But they had this. They had this, and she was sucking him like he was her favorite damn thing. And that was real.
Maybe for her it wasn’t love. But he would take emphatic, absolute need. He would take desire that was undeniable. Desire that transcended common sense. Desire that was more, shot higher, farther into the stratosphere than anything else either of them had ever experienced. And for him, it would be love. Always.
And it was like some truths broke open inside him. All around him. All that stress, all that care. It was love. Always. And the grief that he felt over the loss of his sister was all that love with no one left to care for. But it was still there. Love was something that couldn’t be taken away. And somehow, during a blow job, he was having the single greatest moment of clarity in his life. Maybe because he had never loved anyone or anything more than Shelby. Maybe because he loved the vision of the life they could have. Enough to risk everything. But even if that vision didn’t come out perfect. Even if it was never everything, he would love her. Because love was a sacred space, one he could choose to dedicate his whole soul to. One that could live on, no matter what was given in return. No matter what.
He felt himself reaching the end of his control, and he gripped her hair tight, guiding her head back up. “I want to be inside you.”
Her lips curved up into a coy smile. “I mean. Technically you were.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” she said, but the word was heavy, and it was like she knew. Heavy with need. Heavy with the intensity of all that they were. And he was on fire with it.
On fire with all of it.
