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She shrugged. “I fail to see how it changes anything. You were wrong. Why does it matter what the reason for your wrongness was?”
His scarred knuckles turned white. “What matters is how I felt about it,” he said. “It blew my mind. That I could know for a fact that you were one of his, and still love you. Still be willing to die for you.”
Her mouth quivered. She looked almost scared.
“I thought, at the time, it was because he’d programmed me. But it wasn’t that, Lily. It was my heart that knew the truth, all along.”
She shook her head, eyes squeezing shut. “That’s not fair.”
“I don’t give a shit about fair. King messed with my head that day. But he never touched my heart. My heart never faltered, Lily. I don’t have to make excuses for it. I don’t have to apologize for it. It loved you all along. Only you. It always will.”
Lily rubbed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I don’t know if I can do it again.”
“Do what?” He grabbed her hands, kissed her wet, salty knuckles.
“Trust you,” she said. “It’s not like I have manual controls. It’s an ‘open sesame’ kind of thing. It’s magic.”
Hope leaped up, hot and eager. “That’s no problem,” he said. “I like magic. I go for challenges. I’ll make you trust me again. Let me give it my best shot. You can give me regular updates on my progress, say, every fifteen years or so? Sound good?”
She dissolved in giggles, sniffles. “You are so full of shit.”
“Not about loving you.” He cupped the back of her head, pulling her into the kiss he’d been dying for ever since he jumped out the window of that inferno.And she didn’t pull back.
It bloomed, hot and wild and beautiful, warping them into that magic place, out of time, out of this world. He’d known they could make it back here, to this wild, secret verdant place where their souls were joined. That in this place, he would be able to show her how deep the roots of their love penetrated. To the ends of the earth, and beyond.
He offered himself to her, and joy exploded in him as she did the same. Her heart had never faltered, either, beneath it all where the real truth lay, like a secret pearl.
They twined together, trying to get inside each other.
Her dress was down to her waist and her bra undone before he knew what he was doing. He was cupping, suckling, licking and worshiping her sweet, kissable tits with frantic tenderness while his other hand was busy under her skirt. Stroking and petting for those velvet hot inches of soft bare skin above the gartered hose. He lifted his head to admire her, glowing against the black lace underwear, thighs wide. His heart was going to crack open. She was so beautiful.
He plucked the panties aside, and stroked the tight, furled folds of her pussy, glowing, gleaming with lube. Cherishing her, hungry and breathless and reverent as he kissed her, mouth, fingers and tongue delving, dipping into both sweet hot wells of sensation at once.
He could have made her come right off, but he danced around it. This was too important to rush for a quick thrill. This moment would seal their bargain, for all time. He could wait, and wait. Every sweet stroke a message, a poem. A song of love and longing.
After a whole lot of that, she was lifting herself against his hand, her pussy clenching around his fingers. Pawing the front of his pants.
“Damn it, Bruno,” she panted, crabbily. “Give it to me!”
“But I wanted to make you come before I—“
“Now!” she snarled.
Oh, well. That worked for him. He helped her with the pants, and whipped it out. He was hard as cast iron, hot as a brand. He hoped he’d last long enough to bring her off. Please, God. At least that long.
She grabbed his forearms, her nails digging into the coat of his tux. Their eyes locked, jaws clenched at the terrifying significance of every gasp, every sigh. He fitted himself against her. They moved, seeking the angle…found it…and oh, God. The heat. The wet.
The long, tight, blissful slide to oneness.
They paused. He was terrified to let her move, afraid he’d explode, that it would be over too soon. Then Lily touched his face, and brought her fingertips, wet with his tears, to her mouth.
His fear vanished, drowned in a swell of emotion. Her legs wound around his, and they surged and moved. Her bright gaze was the thread that held him to the world as he knew it. He never wanted it to end, but it wasn’t up to him. It was life itself, swelling up huge and glowing.
Until it burst its bounds, and carried them away.
Some time later, he felt Lily’s hand in his hair, gently stroking the scar. She smoothed the mark on his cheekbone with her thumb.
“There’s something you’ve never said to me,” he prompted. Not giving a shit if he came across as needy or grasping. “I said it to you, but you never said it back. At least, not directly.”
