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But mine to keep.
Clive didn’t know anyone who was looking for waitresses, but I had managed to get a few hours a week at a café a few blocks away that mostly served lunches to the hungry tradesmen who worked in the industrial areas nearby. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
People openly staring at my scars wasn’t new to me, but at the café it seemed more of a morbid curiosity than anything else, so I didn’t mind so much. I wasn’t there to care what they thought of me anyway. I’d had only two shifts, and after both, I’d race home and to the bedroom, hoping to find Zaqiel awake. But so far, nothing.
I didn’t want to admit to myself I was starting to lose hope he’d ever wake.
He had told me he would be okay, and he wouldn’t lie to me. So I had to trust and have blind faith he’d be okay.
But it was hard.
On the seventh day, I woke from an uneasy sleep and rolled over, placing my palm on his chest and feeling his steady breathing for a while.
“I hope you didn’t take advantage of me.”
I scrambled into an upright position, my feet tangling in the sheets, and I had to fight with them a few seconds before I was able to sit up and cup his face, staring at him. His eyes were still closed, but his lips were curved into that almost smile.
“Zaqiel?”
When he opened his eyes, I was again lost in the blue of them. It was like being refreshed and reborn, seeing those eyes again, but without the pain and worry.
Without the flames licking at his chest and neck.
“Evie,” he whispered. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“I see your rest didn’t take away how cheesy you are.”
He smiled, and before he was able to respond, I pressed my lips to his, aware I was crying and trying to keep my shoulders from shaking. But he knew. Of course, he did. He could feel my pain as acutely as if it were his own. So he wrapped his arms around me, crushing me against his torso while I buried my face in the crook of his neck. I felt him inhale deeply as my hair fluttered around his face. He grumbled and shifted his weight, pulling me so I was lying on top of him and pressed me against his body again.
I guess he didn’t want to let me go either.
I flushed with the thought. So this was what it was like to be needed, to be loved.
I never wanted to be without it again.
Without him.
“You scared me,” I whispered against his skin.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m just thankful I have you back.”
His arms tightened around me, almost knocking the breath from me. I squirmed until he relinquished his grip and pressed my lips against his again. This time he kissed me back, slowly at first, moving his lips against mine. Before his tongue snaked into my mouth, strong and dominant, taking what he wanted, I broke away long enough to take a breath and say his name. Then his fingers curled into my hair and pulled my mouth back against his.
“You need to rest.” I gasped, our lips so close they were almost touching.
He kissed his way along my cheek, my chin, flicking his tongue over my earlobe and making me groan. “I’m done resting.”
I nodded as I took his mouth again, and his hand wandered down my body, grabbing my ass and pulling my hips against his. He was hard against my thigh, and I felt a warm rush between my legs at the thought of having him again. It had been much too long, and I never wanted to have to go that long again without him touching me, kissing me, being inside me.
I started grinding my hips against him, desperate for the friction.
He chuckled. “Now who’s eager?”
I giggled and grabbed at the short hair on his head, retaking his mouth. He grabbed my ass with both hands, moving me against him, using his erection to stimulate me through the sheets and my clothes.
Too many layers.
