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Curving my lips, I bite down gently, pulling on the distended nub as I release her and repeat the process on her other breast, this time sucking and biting hard enough that her skin blooms the color of wildflowers under my touch.
Her back arches, a strangled sound emanating from the base of her throat, driving me wild. Making me move faster and harder until she’s panting and gasping for air.
Sitting back on my knees, I pop her tit from my mouth and run my thumb over the marks, dizzy from the painting I’ve begun.
“So responsive,” I praise, knowing she needs to hear it. “Now, if only you’d stop being a spoiled little princess for a moment and just tell me what’s wrong, I could let you up.”
As if relaxed into submission, Fiona’s chest rises and falls as she continues glaring, though she no longer tries to escape. Her eyes grow wide, sadness pooling there that replaces her defiance and rage entirely.
Something inside of my chest aches, a chasm cracking open like a scab that’s been picked off and never allowed to heal.
“You knew about my dad and Chelsea.”
My stomach drops, my heart lurching into my throat and catching, regret radiating like a thousand little pinpricks down my back.
Her voice is impossibly soft, so thick with emotion that I almost choke on it. “You knew all this time what he was doing, and you never told me.”
“Fiona,” I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my stubble. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”
“Maybe not, but I deserved to know.”
Now, she does move, rolling her hips as she tries to wrangle her legs away, but I grab her thigh and hold her in place, desperation coursing through me at the heartbreak lacing her features.
It’s sewn into the knit of her delicate brows, the tension tugging her lips down at the corners, and it sends shock waves of apprehension down my spine when I realize what this is a precursor for.
Goodbye.
Panic swells inside me like the sails on a shipwrecked boat attempting to catch a gust of wind and return to its course, inflating but unable to move anything else. I’m frozen, the thought of her leaving pushing me off the edge of a fence I’ve been teetering on my whole life.
“Boyd, I don’t want to play. Stop.”
“We’re not playing, princess.”
Paranoia is what’s driving her actions, convincing her brain that she hates me.
That she can’t trust me.
That she shouldn’t be with me.
Reaching down to the floor, I rip my belt from the dress pants I discarded earlier, shifting so I’m straddling her chest. She lets out a gush of air when I pin her down, legs thrashing behind me as I fold the belt into its buckle, hooking the loops over her hands and yanking tight. Her elbows stay kinked, hands above her head, as she opens her mouth to protest.
Not giving her a chance, I suck on the inside of my cheeks and let spit drizzle from my lips directly into her mouth; she gags, tossing her head back and forth on the pillow, an irritated gurgle coming from the back of her throat as I cover her with my lips, sweeping my tongue over hers and ensuring she keeps as much of my DNA inside of her as possible.
“You want to scrub me off your body, huh?” I ask, pulling back and pressing a kiss to her sweaty forehead. Hopping off the bed, I jog to the door, easing it shut and flipping on the ceiling light, not wanting Kieran or anyone else coming in and ruining this.
When I come back, her legs are propped up as she tries to maneuver into an upright position; I rip the shorts from her ankles and throw them over my shoulder, pushing my boxers down my hips as I spread her legs wide and nestle between them again.
My cock bobs up against my abs, and I spread the bead of precum over the tip, reveling in the way she averts her gaze. So innocent, so completely fucking pure.
As I stare down at her, my shirt bunched around her neck, my belt binding her in place, a sharp realization cuts through me, pushing beyond the notion of liking her from the other night.
It’s so much fucking more than that, something heady and fiery and all-encompassing that simultaneously sets me on fire and douses me in icy water at the same time.
Fuck, am I in love?
I’ll admit, I haven’t even considered the notion since college, but now, staring down the barrel of losing this girl who’s become a benign tumor on my brain, growing until all I do is think about her, it’s the only thought consuming me.
Thoughts of being with her, helping her.
