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“Charity.” His thrusts became wild. “Please,” he ground out, whether to her or himself, he didn’t know.
Then she rocked her hips against his, and all was lost. He put his hand between them, rubbing his thumb over her sensitized bundle of nerves there, as she cried out her release, permission for him to give in to his own.
He roared, control completely beyond him in the moment.
“Mine,” he said, kissing her shoulder.
She looked up at him, and there were so many questions in those blue eyes, and he feared he didn’t know the answer to them.
“How did this happen?”
He knew exactly what she meant. Only weeks ago they’d never touched each other. Now it was like this need was air.
“I think it was always going to,” he said. “I think it was fate. I haven’t given a lot of thought to that sort of thing. But I was born into pain beyond my control. The way my old man saw me, I didn’t choose that.” He gritted his teeth together. “So maybe this is beyond our control, too. Maybe the good and the bad. Maybe they just come to you.”
Her lips curved up. “You’re sort of a romantic.”
“I am?”
She adjusted their position, put her hand on his chest. “Yes. The way that you believe my father is here watching. The way that you believe in the miraculous. The good, and not just the bad. I think it’s incredible.”
“Well. Not too much,” he said. “I just can’t believe it’s random. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“I like it,” she said.
He wasn’t sure if he did. Not always. Because that meant he had been fated for a certain amount of suffering, and that wasn’t the nicest thought. But then there had to be a reason.
He liked for the world to run in order. To have a purpose to different things. To make some sense. But it didn’t really matter now, not one way or the other. Because if it was more about karmic debt, and she was the thing that he got in return, he’d take it. He’d take it every day.
“As long as you like it. That’s all that matters.”
“Is it?”
“It matters a hell of a lot.” He let his hand drift over her shoulder, down her arm. Over her bare skin. “Tell me this. Really, why didn’t you think much about sex?”
“You can’t imagine not thinking about sex?”
“Not really.”
“Well, that makes it feel like it’s more special for me than it is for you.” She looked insecure.
He gripped her chin and tilted her face so that she was looking up at him. “No. Don’t think that. I used sex as a method of blocking out the things that hurt me. I used it to fill this gaping hole in my soul.” This was about as deep as he got. About the darkest he went. He felt... Dammit, he just felt a whole lot of things.
“It was so dark,” he said. “For a while I could feel good. Feeling good seemed like a gift. So I used it. But I used it the way people use drugs. It wasn’t to strengthen anything in me. It wasn’t anything good. Anything that fixed the broken places in me. It just distracted me for a while. Made it so I didn’t think so much about it. I had a sex drive, but it wasn’t about anybody.”
He cleared his throat. “Until you. You’re the only woman that’s ever mattered. It’s aboutyou. It’s not about sex. And that’s different.”
She was silent for a moment. “I suppose it’s a bit of the same thing for me. It was to protect myself. I felt like it would be easy... On some level, to want you. Because you were beautiful. And so I just...let all your glory blur out around the edges.”
He snorted. “Myglory?”
“You’re beautiful. You know that. You have to.”
“It doesn’t mean anything, though. I’ve always felt a little bit like a snake. They flash their shiny scales, but they’re not up to any good, are they? Their looks are just a trap.”
“You’re not a trap,” she said. “Or a snake.”
“I might be a little bit. Remember. Apples. Original sin.”
