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But instead of saying that, I lift a shoulder. “What about you? Did you fuck anyone else? I’m going to need names and addresses.”
“You’re mental.” He smiles a little before he shakes his head. “There was no one. I don’t even like sex.”
“You obviously do.”
“Only with you,” he whispers, his fingers stroking my pulse point beside the bandage.
Only with you.
Pride swells inside me and I want to probe about that, but that’s not for now, so I ask the most important question. “Does that mean you’ll stay?”
His answer comes in the most beautiful form.
My lotus flower sighs with resignation as he crashes his lips to mine.
23
BRANDON
Ihave survived weeks barely able to breathe, so the rush of life that ripples through me feels foreign.
Intoxicating.
Addicting.
I’m trapped again, completely helpless in the arms of the man who flipped my world upside down and refuses to leave.
The man because of whom I’ve barely slept since last week, sick with a level of concern I’ve never felt. Not even for myself.
I plunge my tongue against his and kiss him deeper, my fingers tugging and pulling on his hair until he groans in my mouth.
Until I’m drunk on his taste, his smell, and his warmth. On his breath and the feel of his flexing muscles beneath mine.
But most importantly, on the pulse that beats in his throat.
He’s alive.
He’s here.
His hands land on my hips, tugging me against him as he kisses me with the same ferocity, digging himself into that nook in my chest evenIhave no access to.
But I don’t care.
As long as I can feel his heartbeat thundering against my chest, as long as I can hear his growls of pleasure, as long as I can smell his intoxicating scent, I can flounder in self-hatred afterward.
I can take on those vicious voices.
I can pretend I’m not an entity of emptiness with no sense of identity whatsoever.
I can takeanythingas long as I have him.
Because Nikolai is the only one who kisses the pain out of me, even if temporarily.
I trace my lips over his jaw, his high cheekbone, and then down his neck, careful not to touch the plaster covering the injury.
The vibration of his groan sends a shudder through me that ends in my hardening cock.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, kissing around the plaster over and over. “So sorry.”
