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Leaning over me, he rests his forehead against mine as we just stand together, breathing the same air between us.
I don't dare move. I can't. I'm frozen in this place where I want to be strong and showcase my backbone, but all I can do is melt. I can't for the life of me find a way to push him away when all I need is him close. It's confusing, it's frustrating, and it rips through my heart entirely.
“I'm sorry, D,” he whispers again in that gravelly, cracked tone. The tone that inadvertently forces you to feel the pain of the person emitting it.
He kisses my forehead, his tender lips lingering against my skin as I feel a tear escape my lashes.
I don't want to close up and be strong anymore. I want to let go and feel that freedom of being lost in love. But I can let go on my own. I can't get lost without someone there willing to find me. Guide me home when the path disappears before me.
“Oh, God,” his broken voice utters, noticing my tears and wiping one away with his thumb. The words drop from his mouth as fast as his heart falls to the floor. “I'm so sorry.”
He kisses my cheek. “So sorry.” Kisses my other cheek, capturing my tears. “I'm so fucking sorry.” He nuzzles his face along mine, uttering the words again and again like he's supposed to. But it's not making me feel better. It hurts me to know how much I mean to him, because I feel just as tormented.
I couldn't stand it if he silenced me. I'd die if he didn't take my calls and ignored me as I did him all afternoon. I couldn't go a night without seeing him, just like he can't seem to finish this night without standing outside my door, apologizing endlessly with his words, with his pained eyes, with his broken heart.
Lips hover over mine, and I break. I give into temptation, silencing the powerful, independent woman in me as she screams. I press my mouth to his and a deep groan of relief escapes his throat. Calloused hands travel, one to the back of my neck and the other down along my side until it reaches my hip. He pulls me into him, cradling me in his arms.
This kiss, if I could define it, would be titled Tender Truths.
It's gentle, it's sympathetic, it's truth-telling in its own right. Everything our heated kisses normally aren't. This kiss is his apology. My heart is the paper he aches to carve himself into, his unabating tongue, the pen. He writes his remorse against my lips with every swirl of his tongue, every pained groan into my mouth.
Words that are voiced cease to exist. He's communicating solely with his actions now.
Fingers grip the hair at the back of my head as he walks me backwards toward the table of bills and papers behind me, his mouth staying planted on mine. He picks me up with one arm wrapped around my lower back, setting me on the table. My legs open and he seals himself against me, holding me tightly in his arms.
I separate from his lips, needing a breath and some clarity amidst the raw passion that absorbs us whenever we're together. His hand slides around me until it reaches my hip. Fingers claw into the skin near my thigh as he winces, his forehead dropping against mine again.
“Forgive me, D,” his voice cracks. “I beg you, please.”
I sigh against him, contemplating kicking him out and closing off the part of me only he's ever opened, because I know just how to do it. I've done it before. Surely I can do it again.
But I know I can't.
My mind screams at me to wake up, but my heart forms a fist around it, sinking its claws in deep, choking it off, unrelenting in its mission to keep this dream alive.
These walls guarding that heart have crumbled with the force of his wave.
And I'm not strong enough to hold out anymore.
45
Dylan
Documents,bills,checks,andpaperwork lay sprawled on the wooden table, defenseless beneath us. The tenderness has molded into something more powerful. The passion that now builds between us screams for release. In record time, Lake's lips leave mine and the energy throughout the tiny apartment shifts.
Gripping my arms with determined hands, he helps me off the table, setting me on my feet and turning my back to him. I twist to face him as he curls his tall frame around me. His mouth seals to mine from behind and I gasp as his tongue seeks mine, noting the sweet taste of peppermint lingering on his lips.
Curious hands slide down my abdomen until they reach the aching place between my thighs. My body molds to his, the weight of his swollen cock pressing against my lower back.
His tongue swirls inside as he nips my upper lip before softly kissing the corners. My chest heaves as his fingers press firmly against my clit. The heaviness in my head clouds my vision, and I drop my head back against his chest as another breathy moan escapes me.
Large fingers graze and tease over my pants until he's gripping my chin, tilting my lips up to him. Kissing me madly, his hand slides up and into my sweatshirt, cupping my breast. This man can kiss, and dammit if it doesn't send me into another realm each time that tongue so eagerly flicks mine.
Sucking on my bottom lip, his hands slide to my waist, where his fingers claw down my sides, creating goosebumps in their wake. He finds the edge of my leggings, pulling them down over the curve of my ass. I arch my bare backside, pressing into him, feeling the strain in his sweats so close to where I long for it.
“I'm so fucking sorry,” he murmurs against my neck.
“I know,” I whisper breathlessly. “I know.”
