Hurt (The Hurt Series, #1)

by Lydia Michaels

  He glanced at his clothes. “I have scars.”

  Her heart ached at the proof that even a man as stunning as Callan could have body image issues. “They’re just the surface, Callan. I don’t see them when I look at you.”

  His brow tightened, his face twisting with pinching emotion. “My legs... From the fire...”

  Understanding spread through her like a heavy wind pushing a vessel out to see. How silly of her to assume the extent of his scars were on his hands and face. She reached for his fingers and squeezed.

  “I want to see you, but if you can’t, we can—”

  “I can. I just want to prepare you.”

  Uncertainty knifed through her. If she reacted in any way that hurt him, it would crush both of them. But she’d never seen a burn victim before, and she didn’t know what to expect. Didn’t know how her mind and eyes would respond. She forced herself to be still.

  “I’m ready.”

  First, he reached to his back and pulled off his shirt. Her jaw unhinged as sheer glory unveiled before her. Breath rushed from her lungs as she stared, unblinking.

  Hard, angular curves carved into his hips. Muscles stacked like the rungs of a Jacob’s ladder climbed up his flat abdomen. Swells of sinew and tendons bulged beneath his skin. The flat pigment of his nipples and the corded thickness of his ribs seemed all the more menacing with Christ on the Cross hanging down over his chest where the rosary fell. He had bulges in places she couldn’t name, muscles where she didn’t know muscles hid.

  “Holy...” She blinked in awe at his physique. “Wow.”

  He had the modesty to flush, and as his lashes swept low over his blush, she fell a thousand feet deeper in love with him. She smiled with pure, female admiration.

  “You know you’re beautiful.”

  His blue eyes flashed and the side of his mouth hooked. “I show ye the good parts first, to help ye overlook the bad.”

  She laughed. It was a solid plan. “Keep going.”

  The playful smile on his face vanished, and he set to work on the buckle of his belt. His breathing turned noticeably jagged, and his fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans. He paused when he had the belt undone, finger on the zipper, and then he yanked them down, toeing out of his boots and socks and shoving his pants into a crushed pile of denim on the floor before she could fully look at him.

  She caught the flash of some marks on his back. Deep divots of reformed flesh that didn’t quite match his other skin.

  He stood, and her confidence wavered. He was thick everywhere, but not hard. Her gaze dropped to her chest, a terrible thought stabbing into her.

  What if she was pushing too hard, forcing too much too soon? What if he was too much of a gentleman to say no to her? What if the flaccid proof of his nerves was the same as a swallowed scream?

  The wretched sense that she might be bullying him into this gutted her. She couldn’t do it. Her courage toppled.

  The words weren’t easy, but she had to get them out. “If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

  There had never been a silence as ear-splitting as the one that followed.

  “I want to do this. I want to know the touch of your hands on me and the feel of my body in yours.”

  Her gaze lifted and she recognized the desire in his stormy eyes. She glanced down the front of him and relief spread through her as his length hardened. She smiled, and he stepped back.

  She forgot to prepare, too sidetracked by her concern that he didn’t want this, and when his legs came into view, her jaw unhinged. “Oh, Callan.”

  She swallowed, the evident pain the injuries must have caused stabbing into her empty stomach. Beneath his knees, the muscle of his calves twisted around the bone. The flesh was smooth, without hair, and darker than the rest of his legs. The definition of his shins showed beneath the almost iridescent scar tissue, delineated by crossing veins. Blotches of dark and light pigment swirled around his feet.

  “I know it isn’t pretty to look at.”

  Her eyes lifted, her heart so full of sadness. “Do they still hurt?” They looked painful, even if they were only scars.

  “Not like they did. The scars itch and I have to tend to them, but there are worse things. When they pain me it slows me down a bit, but...” He shrugged. “I’m sorry ye have to look at it.”

  She scowled at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing wrong with the way you look, Callan. We all have imperfections.”

  “Imperfections. That’s a big word with a small meaning. I know I’m mangled, Em’ry. And yer immeasurable beauty only makes the truth more clear.”

  “Stop. No matter what you think you look like, in my head, you’ll always be better looking than me. So when you put yourself down, know that I’m still several rungs below.”

  “But you’re not—”

  “In my head I am. So let’s not do that to ourselves. We’ve got enough damage on the inside that we don’t need the pressure of our shortcomings on the outside, too. Deal?”

  “Deal.” He shifted his feet and his hands fisted at his sides. “Should I join you?”

  “Yes.” She flipped back the covers, and he rounded the bed, sliding in beside her.

  They both lowered to their backs and stared at the ceiling.

  “Your bed’s soft.”

  “Thanks.” Silence unfolded, like a napkin turning into a blanket until it enveloped them and was all she could feel. “You can kiss me.”

  She could hear each breath passing through his nose. The covers lifted, and she gasped as his body pressed over hers, his lips surprising her and seeking before she had time to acclimate.

  A soft sound left her throat as his tongue stole into her mouth with deliberate purpose. The heat of his erection weighed heavily against her hip, its implication burning through her skin.

  Fumbling to find the emotional balance she seemed to have lost, she put her fingers in his hair and slowed the kiss. His hips moved, nudging her thighs apart.

  “Can I put my hands on ye?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, taking control of the kiss and slowing it to a pace she liked.

  Heat covered her breast as he cupped her. She moaned, and his fingers teased the tip. His mouth broke from hers, his breathing heavy as he traced his lips along the edge of her jaw, finding the frantic beat of her pulse.

  Her body arched into the warmth of his touch and, when his fingers flexed against her skin, she caught his hand, dragging it lower and pressing it to the wet folds hidden between her thighs.

  “Touch me, Callan.”

  He stilled and then softly petted over her curls, teasing her sensitive clit. Her knees fell open, and as he leaned back, the covers fell away.

  “You’re so soft here.” His gaze held hers as the tip of his finger traced the edge of her slit, gathering moisture and spreading her wider. He slowly pressed the finger inside of her, and she inhaled sharply.

  Panic flashed in his eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. It’s good. Keep going.”

  He drew back his touch, frowned, and shoved the finger deep.

  “Ah—” Cool air covered her as he withdrew his touch and jerked his body away.

  “I’m sorry. I dinnae ken how to touch you. I’m no gentle touch, Em’ry—”

  “Callan,” she snapped, her voice breaking through the hysteria ganging up on him. She caught his arm and pulled him back over her, pushing his hand back between her legs. “Just not as rough. You’ll get me there. Gentle.”

  Tension carved deep lines into his face as he hesitantly touched her again. The now tender way he pushed his thick fingers in and out of her had heat spreading through her limbs and warming her core.

  “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes closing and her pelvis softening under his touch. “Like that.”

  His confidence shined in his efforts as he lowered his mouth to her breasts. The tight pull of his lips closing around the tip of her nipple unleashed another moan. His wet fingers slipped out of her sex, and c
losed around her breasts, plumping the soft flesh.

  She smiled, her body tipping back as he spent time getting to know her breasts. No hesitation like before. Now, he couldn’t seem to get enough of them.

  “I want te drink from them,” he rasped. “Do you think if I suck long enough I could?”

  A hot blush rushed down her front. There was a strange innocence to his question. “I don’t think it works that way.”

  His mouth closed over the turgid tip, and he pulled the nipple deep into his mouth, suckling hard as if he didn’t believe her. Her breath caught as a surprising knot of pleasure tightened in her womb.

  The cool beads of the rosary gathered on her stomach. She gasped as pleasure spiked downward, triggering the sharp twinge of an orgasm, but he wasn’t touching her sex. She arched, and he lifted her to him, feasting on her breasts.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders. How was this happening? She typically took lots of patience and skill, but Callan seemed on to something.

  Her body gushed with desire. Her voice climbed with needy cries as she clung to him, holding him tighter to her chest with every shoot of pleasure. Her feet pressed into the bed, lifting her hips as the building swells broke, crashing over her in an astonishing shock of glitter and shivers.

  He wasn’t done. He moved to her other breast, cupping and pulling and suckling hard.

  “Callan,” she rasped. She had no idea her breasts could provoke such interest—or such a response.

  His hips moved against hers, the slick trail of pre-cum dragging across her thigh. The fact that he loved touching her so much only added to her pleasure.

  “More,” she whispered. “Yes.”

  Her nipples had never been so adored. The tight, swollen tips throbbed with wet sensation. The more he nibbled and twisted and pulled the more she felt. Wave after wave, pleasure crashed over her. And when his fingers found their way between her legs again, she shattered, her drenched sex welcoming him.

  “Now,” she gasped, her body trembling in a rush of sensation and euphoric chills.

  His mouth broke from her nipple, her flesh deliciously abused and divinely sore. He fumbled with the condom, and she considered telling him to forget it, but he had it on before she made up her mind.

  He stroked a large hand down his latex covered cock, and her eyes widened. He was bigger than before, bigger than—

  That door in her mind slammed shut. Only her and Callan. Nothing else. She wanted no bitter thoughts to intrude on this moment.

  Swallowing tightly, she forced her knees to fall open. “Come here.”

  His jaw twitched, a hard line of concentration carved into his brow as he crawled over her. She cupped his face, needing to look into his eyes.

  “I love you, Callan.”

  Always one to measure his words, he drew in a slow breath and let it out completely. “I love you, too, Em’ry. I’ll love you always.”

  Her body stretched as he entered her slowly, the broad crown of his cock trying tender tissue with such gentleness that the fragile reed of her womanhood, the spine of her broken confidence, trembled. Tears gathered in her eyes, distorting her view of his beautiful face and she panicked, swiping them away.

  His lips pressed to her cheeks, his mouth whispering against the damp skin where her tears had fallen. “I love you. I love you...”

  Breath filled her as he pressed completely inside. Her eyes closed at the intrusion, welcoming the weight of his body over hers and soaking up his tender affection.

  “Don’t let go,” she begged, needing him to hold her so tight she wouldn’t fall apart.

  “Never,” he rasped, crushing his chest to hers. His breath beat against her ear, his lips pressing to her cheek. “Nothing has ever felt so g—good.”

  His voice broke, and she caught his face, turning it to hers so she could kiss him. Only then did she notice his tears. They fell from his eyes, and she kissed away the trails.

  “I have you,” she whispered. “Just like you have me, Callan, I won’t let go.”

  Tension twisted in his face, an agonizing show of his need for physical affection. She tentatively lowered a hand to his back and tried to soothe him with gentle strokes.

  “Shh, it’s okay.”

  The force of the sob he tried to hide from her wracked his body. He dropped his head to her shoulders as the terrible sound ripped from his lips, flowing into her with such force she could no longer control her own tears.

  He didn’t move, but he filled her. And she held him. It was the most intimate moment of her entire life, perhaps the precipice of her purpose. She wished she could take his pain away, eradicate all the hurt.

  As her hands traveled over his arms and shoulders and down his back, he gasped, shaken by the contact and nuzzling into her touch for more. She wasn’t sure how long they held each other like that. And it wasn’t always clear who was holding whom. But they never let go.

  She never knew such a sense of oneness could exist. The way he completed her, filled her, softened all her jagged edges, it was spiritual, existential, and life-altering. No empty places of her soul left unfilled. So brutally broken when alone, yet beautifully complete when together.

  She didn’t need his verbal confirmation to know he felt it too. They communicated through something stronger than words and more permanent than any promise.

  Drenched in dispersed emotion and exercised pain, their first movements were clumsy, but soon they found their way. Callan, despite his efforts to handle her like the frailest glass, wore intensity like a second skin and couldn’t always manage gentle.

  She welcomed his passion. Met every forceful thrust like the shore meets the sea, resilient and true. He was a large man, but he was hers, and she wanted all of him.

  He pounded into her, his thick erection not only thrusting between her tender folds, but his body opening her, stretching her to accommodate each heavy fall of his hips. Their bodies glistened with slickened haste as his physical demands challenged them to the point of exertion.

  Her strength waned long before his, but she wanted him to keep going. She wanted him to take all of her until there was nothing left untouched.

  Eventually, his rhythm slowed and his head lowered to her chest. His mouth closed over her nipple, and she moaned, her fingers combing softly through his hair. Part of her wished they could stay like that forever, but she sensed him fighting back his release.

  His hips flexed slowly, never letting her forget they were connected. When he lifted his chest from hers, she remembered how it felt to draw a full breath, but she hadn’t missed it. On the contrary, she missed his weight and wanted to pull him back to her.

  “You’re radiant,” he whispered, with that intoxicating rhotic accent.

  Heat tickled her cheeks, and she tipped her face to look at him, silently begging for a kiss. A sort of language had been constructed, and they no longer hesitated to take what they wanted. His tongue delved deep into the crevices of her mouth, and she sparred with him, playfully nipping at his lips and jaw.

  His hips thrust, asserting his dominance, and she grinned, handing it over. He growled and bit at her neck, driving his erection deep with renewed speed. His thick length stroked her insides, and her body wept with a warm welcome.

  His mouth pressed to hers as his body lowered, his chest crushing deliciously against her breasts and his hands pushing the hair away from her face to stare into her eyes.

  “Dinnae look away, love.” His breath hitched with jagged jolts of pleasure. His mouth pushed to hers as they rocked as one.

  And the last of the veil fell away. His unearthed secrets showed in every fleck of his crystal blue eyes as she stared into his open soul. He trembled with completion, shivering over her and then letting his body blanket hers.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Saratoga Springs, New York—America

  Present day

  They stayed in bed all day, talking more openly than they’d ever talked. Em’ry nibbled on the pancakes Cal
lan had brought that morning, not caring that they were cold and dry. Not caring that she hadn’t worn a stitch of clothing all day.

  “And what about yer parents?” he asked.

  Hugging a pillow to her front, she tore the floppy pancake with her teeth and shrugged. “They’re very literal in their faith. I was raised in a Christian Science household, so I was never vaccinated, and we weren’t allowed to watch much television. Suffice it to say, the second I could get out, I did. I only applied to colleges in other states and sold anything I had of value my senior year of high school so I could afford a place to stay.”

  “You dinnae speak to them?”

  “I do. I mean, I love my mom and dad, but as an only child, I can’t take their magnified, undivided focus on my life. They’re very ... critical. And we don’t share the same views.”

  “Do they know what happened to ye?”

  She shook her head. “There’s the chance they might hear it on the news, but they’re all the way in Kentucky. And my mother and father stopped watching the news after Nine-Eleven.”

  Lying on his side, his long body twisted in her blankets, he lovingly traced a finger over her knee. “I’m sorry. I’d think, goin’ through all ye been through, it would be nice te have the support of loved ones.”

  She forced a smile. “When they found out I wasn’t a virgin they threatened to throw me out. I wouldn’t be able to handle their scrutiny on top of everything else.” She didn’t like discussing her parents. “Besides, I have you.”

  She pushed the Styrofoam container of pancakes onto the bedside table. “Tell me about Uma.”

  His eyes became alert at the mention of his niece. “What do ye want te know?”

  She squirmed under the covers beside him. He pulled her close, tucking her against his hips and cupping her breast. The heat of his chest burned into her back and she let it warm her.

  “You love her like a daughter.” It wasn’t a question because she knew the answer. She could see how much he cared for her the second she saw them together.