His teeth graced my nipple, making my breath catch. “I wanted so much to be your first. For you to be mine.” He suddenly stopped licking, pressing his forehead against my sternum and wrapping trembling arms around my body. “I’m so sor—”
I tugged his hair, stopping him from apologizing again. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Now—right here, right now—this is our first time. No one else exists—the past, the memories, the revenge. None of it matters. Not anymore.”
His forehead furrowed as he bit his lip. A delectable flop of long hair covered one of his eyes. “Fuck, it makes me hard when you control the situation. It always did. Even when you were a bossy ten-year-old.”
I laughed, amazed that the intense sexual moment could have so many facets. “You fantasized about me when you were thirteen and I was ten?” I scrunched up my nose playfully. “That’s just gross.”
He chuckled. “You know what I mean. I didn’t want you like that. I just couldn’t… I couldn’t understand you. I couldn’t get you out of my mind—not because you were so cute with your bouncing red hair and fierce green eyes, but because of your ginormous attitude.”
His hands traced down my rib cage, his thumb skirting the hollow of my belly. He kept going, ghosting over scars and colors. His eyes burned, drinking me in, and the urge for conversation quickly faded.
My back arched into his touch.
He hissed, pressing his throbbing cock against me. “I need to be inside you, Cleo.”
My eyes snapped closed at the use of my name. A full-body tremble at finally knowing where my home was.
In his arms. In his heart.
“You like that?” he murmured. “You like it when I call you Cleo? My Cleo?”
I moaned as his mouth trailed over my jaw and down my throat. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you, Cleo? I’m going to lick every inch, inhale every part, and then I’m going to sink slowly into your heat and make you come with your legs wrapped around my ass.”
My eyes were so damn heavy, I struggled to open them to look into his gaze. “You want me to wrap my legs around you?”
He nodded, his beautiful lips wet and red. “I want your chest against mine. I want your arms tight around me, and I want your breath in my mouth. I’ve wanted you to touch me since the last time I saw you. Give me what I’ve always denied myself because I couldn’t stomach any other woman taking your place.”
“I love you!” he called from across the compound. The sun soaked into his dark hair, the floppy silky strands mussed from our make-out session behind the garage.
“I love you, too! Don’t be late tonight.”
He grinned, waving once before jogging to his house.
My breath caught at the memory. Had that been the last time I’d ever seen him?
The melancholy and confusion threatened to destroy the heat in my heart. I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him close. “I want you to look into my eyes when you slide inside me. I want you to see how much having your body in mine affects my soul.”
He groaned, kissing me hard. His lips were weapons, his tongue a tool, making me writhe and want.
I wanted him to make love to me.
“I want to steal your breath, so you only survive while I breathe for you.” The agony in his voice hurt me deep. He had so much still hurting him.
Whispering, I said, “I want you to come inside me, so I can claim a part of you.”
His eyes flared, kissing me gently. “You don’t know if you’re on protection.”
I shook my head. I did remember. A random memory to have come clear, but there it was. “I had a coil inserted a few years ago. I can’t get pregnant.”
His eyes bored into mine. He didn’t ask why I’d taken such serious measures to never get pregnant. He didn’t ask how many lovers I’d had. He just scooped me closer and breathed, “I’ve never been with a woman without a condom. Never.”
I held his cheeks, my fingers burning from his heat.
His lips parted and he pressed me bone-breakingly hard against him. We fell together, kissing, touching. My hand wiggled its way between our glued bodies, finding his hard length and cupping boldly.
I stroked him. Hard, possessive—claiming.
His mouth opened wide beneath mine, coming undone. His legs twitched and a guttural groan sounded in his chest.
My heart raced as I grew wet with power. “Do you like that? Like having my fingers around you?”
His eyes snapped tight. “You have no idea. Being touched—it feels so damn good. But knowing it’s you? My Buttercup.”
A cry fell from my lips.
Kill gathered me close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Mean to what?”
“Use that nickname. I know it belonged to your dad.”
I shook my head. “Use it. It’s yours as much as his.”
Concern for my parents hit me quick and hard.
… it belonged to your dad.
What did he mean by that? Past tense because of us, or had he died?
My heart fisted at the thought of my parents gone. Then my stomach cramped at the thought of them living the past eight years believing I was rotting in the ground.
“God, my parents.” I clutched Kill’s shoulders. I wanted to ignore the need to know—it wasn’t exactly the best time to ask—but I couldn’t stop the question falling between us like a blot of ink. “Where are they?”