by Jo Raven
“Because.” He strokes his rough thumbs over my cheeks, and I melt into his touch. “I’m afraid to lose you.”
“Lose me? Why?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t have much to offer you, Princess.”
“You’ve offered me everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“I love you.”
“You see? Everything.”
“I want you to have the job you want.”
“Also you gave me my freedom.”
“I want you to find yourself.”
“And your total support.”
“To be happy. Tess, are you even listening to me?”
Kiss me, I want to tell him, but nod instead. “Every word.”
“I can’t ask for more,” he whispers.
And I want him to. To ask everything of me, just like he gives everything to me.
I kiss him, pouring my love, my soul into the kiss, until he groans and slides his hands to the back of my head, holding me in place, eating at my mouth.
His body presses against mine, stronger and more muscular than ever, perfected through long hours of practice at school and training at the gym with Rafe and the guys. My breasts push into his sculpted chest, and his hard-on brands my stomach through the clothes.
He walks me backward, into the bed, lowering me onto the mattress and climbing over me, muscular thighs parting my legs so he can lie between them.
Planting his elbows on either side of my head, he leans in to kiss me again. “Never loved anyone like I love you,” he whispers against my lips. “Never wanted anyone so much.”
“Dyl…” I tug on the hem of his shirt, impatiently, needing to feel him naked on me.
He lets me pull the T-shirt over his head. It drops somewhere off the bed, and I lick my lips at the sight of his bare chest, so hard and perfect, his defined abs and pecs, the tattoos swirling over his skin. “You’re the only one for me, Tess.”
“I want you.” I tug on his pants. “Please.”
Something shifts in his eyes. Dark desire flares, and with it… disappointment? Like a light going out.
This makes no sense.
“Dylan?” I let go of his pants to touch his face.
He doesn’t reply, or leave me time to wonder any more about this, crushing his mouth again to mine and worming his rough hand under my blouse. His fingers are hot and callused, catching on the lace of my bra—and then they find my breast and squeeze.
The breath leaves my lungs as desire swamps me, turning off my brain and setting my body on fire. I arch against him, grabbing onto his powerful shoulders before I freefall into the flames.
“Need you,” I whisper, and his answer is a groan as he pushes up my skirt and presses his jeans-clad hardness into my seam. “Now.”
Normally he likes playing with my body, bringing me to the edge time and again before entering me and filling me up—but tonight his playful mood is gone. I thought I’d glimpsed it earlier, but now he’s all dark want as his hands fumble with his zipper and drag out his cock.
Then he’s pulling aside my panties and pushing into me, making me gasp. It burns, and I shouldn’t like it so much when he’s rough with me, but God, I do. He feels so good, stretching me, thrusting into me until there’s not an inch more to go, and his face…
His face’s tight with the effort it takes him to stop still, waiting for me to adjust, to show that I’m ready for him to move, and he’s gorgeous. The clear cut of his jaw, the softness of his mouth, the crescent of his lowered lashes, the gold of his hair, the straining in his chest and those broad shoulders as he bends over me, covering me with his male musk scent, it’s all so sexy, and yet so familiar.
So dear to me.
But have I mentioned sexy? Damn, this boy is hot, and as he locks gazes with me and whispers my name, I rock my hips and haul him down to kiss him, drink in his groan of pleasure.
“Take me,” I whisper against his lips, hooking a leg around his muscular thigh, letting him in deeper, and he shudders. “I’m yours.”
“Are you?” He growls low in his throat, and grabs my hands, presses them into the mattress. “Are you, Tess?”
I frown. “Yes, I—”
“Love you…” His hips snap, his cock sliding deliciously in and out of me, and my thoughts drown in the overwhelming pressure building in my belly. “Tess…”
I kiss him again, tasting his spicy sweetness, and his mouth slams against mine, his tongue thrusting between my lips, fucking my mouth. He’s power and heat, velvet and steel, holding me in place, drawing the pleasure out of me with each roll of his hips, each slide of his thick cock inside me.
His movements are fast and hard, punishing. He nips at my lips, then trails his mouth down the side of my neck and bites.
His teeth sink into my flesh, and I arch, crying out, the pain flowing in my veins like gunpowder, meeting the fire of my desire and exploding.
I writhe as I come apart, clenching around his length, a startled yell leaving my lips.
His teeth release my skin and his mouth finds mine again, silencing me. He rocks into me, panting against my lips, his body shuddering, his movements losing their rhythm.
Still riding the waves of my orgasm, I moan when he starts to come. I can feel his cock jerk inside me, his hot cum flood me, and I tighten again, sparks of pleasure shooting into my core.
I feel like I’ve gone supernova. A brilliant eruption, a total destruction, a flight into darkness, floating on sparkling light.
And he’s in my arms, falling, too, his eyes wide, his body trembling with aftershocks, crushing me for a sweet moment before he struggles to push off me.
I don’t let him. I drag him back down, wrap my arms around him.
“I love you, too,” I whisper, inhaling his scent of leather and pine and clean male sweat, so happy to be connected to his body, to be part of his life. “You have no idea how much.”
Chapter Eighteen
Dylan
I’d be lying if I said that seeing the dark hickey I left on Tessa’s pale neck doesn’t make my blood run hot. I stare at it as she moves around in the kitchen in the morning, dressed in one of my T-shirts and her lacy panties, and heat unfurls in my chest and my groin.
She’s mine.
I’ve never marked her like this before, but last night the need was impossible to ignore.
The need that’s been riding me lately, to put a brand on her, to growl at other males until they turn tail and leave. Leave her to me.
What’s wrong with me?
Fucking nerves. Just ask her, propose to her and be done with it, I tell myself as I watch her drink her coffee, checking her emails on her phone by the window.
But it has to be done right. I have to talk to the guys more, decide how.
And right now all I wanna do is take the phone and mug from her hands, slam them on the counter and bury myself in her. Last night wasn’t enough.
It will never be enough.
She frowns at something she’s reading, her brows drawing together, her cute nose scrunching up.
In two strides I’m in front of her. “You’re up early.” I put my hands on her hips, haul her closer, lick at her mouth. She smells of cinnamon and vanilla, and I breathe her in. “Can’t wait to start working?”
She shoots me a vaguely horrified and definitely guilty look. “I was waiting for an important email.”
“Did you get it?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” I pluck the phone from her fingers with one hand, the mug with the other—as fucking planned—and push her back against the counter. I drop the things there and press against her, letting her feel how hard I am for her. “Here’s another message for you.”
Kissing her is an addiction. Her taste is driving me crazy. The feel of her soft curves pressed to my hulking body is mind-blowing.
I lift her on the counter and continue kissing her. Her legs wrap around my hips, her arms wind around my neck, and fuck, this feels so good. My brothers are still asleep, and w
e haven’t had sex in the kitchen in a while.
“Want you,” I breathe, dragging down her panties, letting them fall to the floor. “Want you now.”
Want you always.
“Yes,” she murmurs. “Yes.”
Pushing down my pants, I grab my hard dick and sink into her, a groan rumbling in my chest as heat and silky pressure surrounds me. Her pussy sucks me in, and I grip her legs, lifting them higher so that I can rock into her.
God, I wanna get her pregnant, wanna feel our child growing in her belly. I’m stung by the baby bug. Is that a thing or should I worry? I’d always wondered what pushed people to have children, and with parents like mine, that’s a serious question—and now I know. Now I feel it.
When you love someone so much you want to create a family with them.
With her.
We rock together, her nails scratching down my back, her legs sliding off the counter as I pound into her. I hold on to her, hold her up as I thrust between her legs, in her heat, my world reduced to my girl and this moment.
I feel her contract around my cock, hear her breathless moan, and curse as my dick refuses to wait any longer and starts jerking. Pleasure crashes into me, and it’s all I can do to keep my hold on her as I ride it out, my whole body clenching with my release.
We’re both breathing hard when I deposit her back on the counter and pull out of her with a hiss.
She gasps when I do, and then lifts her hands to my face. Her eyes are heavy-lidded. “Morning to you, too.”
I grin. “Damn. We should do this every morning. Right here.”
“One day one of your brothers will walk in on us.”
“We’ll lock the door.”
“Mmm. That’s an idea. I’ll—” Her eyes go wide, and she points at something. “Oh God, I’m late!”
“Late?” I don’t even bother turning to look. I can barely breathe, I’m so spent. Sated. Happy. “It’s early. What if I carry you to bed and have breakfast there?” I nuzzle her neck. “Or I could have you for breakfast. I think I like this idea even better.”
“No, I’m late, I have a flight to catch!” She scrambles off the counter, shoving me aside and searching the floor for her panties.
I groan. “You’re traveling again so soon?”
“I know, I know, it was a last minute thing, because Mason couldn’t go.”
“Goddammit, he never can.” I sigh, rub a hand over my face. “Fuck, I need some fucking coffee.”
I grab her mug, down a healthy amount of caffeine and tell myself not to argue, or brood. No brooding. This was exactly what I feared—holding her back, not letting her live her dreams.
“I really couldn’t avoid it,” she says, and something in her voice has me looking up.
Is that a sheen of tears?
“Tess…”
She turns on her heel and walks out of the kitchen, and I almost trip over my feet going after her.
“Tess, wait.” She’s in the bathroom, and fuck, she locked the door. “I’m sorry. You like traveling, I know that. You love your job. Come on, Tess, open this door.”
No reply.
Fuck me.
“What’s going on?” Miles asks, standing at the door of his room, his hair sticking up in all directions. “You guys fighting?”
“No, we’re not fighting.” Suddenly I’m so tired I can barely stand straight. “It’s nothing. Go back to bed, I’ll wake you up when Tess is done with the bathroom.”
“Is this why you guys aren’t getting married?” he mutters, and I freeze.
“What?”
“Because we only have one bathroom, and women hog bathrooms. Fact of life.” He wanders back into his room, and I wonder if he’s even really awake.
Am I?
And is it true, do we keep fighting? Am I that selfish that I get upset over what makes her happy? That I want to take it away, convince her to marry me and start popping babies when what she really wants…
…what she really wants is to keep traveling away from me.
***
Before I know it, she’s packed a bag and gotten dressed, and now she’s giving me the quickest hug in history before heading out.
“Tess…”
“We’ll talk when I’m back.” Her hair is pinned back, and she’s dressed in a white shirt and pencil skirt with high heels.
I blink. I haven’t seen her dressed so conservatively since that last huge fight with her parents. What the hell is happening?
She’s gone before I decide how to ask her what’s going on, and I’m left with a mug of cooling coffee, her scent on my skin and a fucking headache.
Instead of talking, I fucked her, and then made her angry, and now she’s gone again, before I can even muster enough brain cells to give a proper apology.
I shouldn’t have gotten angry myself. I just… fucking miss her. She’s rarely here anymore, and when she is, she’s working.
Fucking hell. Drowning in a glass of water, when others have bigger problems, when I need to calm down and get my shit together.
My brothers. I’ve got my brothers to think about, see if I can take them to the zoo today or to a park to have a good time.
And Zane. Fuck, I said I’d search for this guy whose name Zane remembered.
No time like now. I carry the cooling coffee to the living room and turn on my laptop. Where to look?
First, I try Truthfinder.org. I plug in my credit card info, input the name and surname of the guy, and the state, and wait for the database to run through all their police and birth records.
There are many matches, a long list. It will take me quite some time to download the data. I want to have Zane look at the pictures, just in case he sees the guy’s face. The photos aren’t always correctly matched to the names, but you never know. We might luck out.
Christ, if this guy is the one who hurt Zane, I’ll fucking lynch him.
While waiting for the data to download, I try People Search USA for Wisconsin and get only a couple of matches, none of them in Madison. I go through a few more sites, then return to Truthfinder to check the process of the downloads.
Are you one of these people? I ask the digital folders on my computer. Are you in here somewhere?
Are you hiding, or are you innocent?
Are you hiding, or do you think nobody will ever go looking for you?
After I get my brothers up and make them breakfast, I call the agency, give the guy’s name and ask why his address isn’t in Zane’s file.
“Apologies,” a nice-sounding lady tells me. “Sometimes data is incomplete for one reason or another. I am double-checking now, but it looks like we don’t have the address you’re looking for. It’s not in our files.”
Tyler had been right. I thank the lady and hang up.
So that one was a bust. It’s okay.
I’ll get this guy. I’m on it.
The one thing where I’m completely off my game is Tessa. Next time I see her, I’ll make it clear to her I wasn’t thinking straight today and that she shouldn’t worry. I’ll cook us something good, go pick her up from the airport with Miles and Teo, and everything will be normal once again.
Only then it strikes me that I know nothing about this trip. Where she’s going. When she’s coming back.
She never told me.
Goddamn.
***
“So are you guys okay now?” Miles asks as we walk through the park, dappled sunlight filtering through the foliage overhead. He’s been walking by my side instead of running about with Teo like he would have done a year ago.
Not sure how I feel about these changes that mean he’s not a little kid anymore.
Then again, going through the things we did last year would take away anyone’s innocence. Our dad visiting to write ominous things on their faces, predicting the end of the world, then setting the house on fire and dying in it…
Dad had gone off the deep end, and now Miles is a little grown-up, already aware of the craziness of the
world and the instability of it all.
Teo doesn’t seem affected, though. He’s already running ahead of us, chasing a butterfly. It’s like a scene from a Disney movie, I kid you not.
“Are you, like, taking time apart?” Miles asks.
“Me and Tessa?”
“No, you and Santa.” He rolls his eyes.
“We’re not taking time apart. Tess has a lot of work.” Or she’s trying to keep away from me. Wish I knew which it is. “Couples argue sometimes. It’s normal.”
“You don’t argue.”
True. Until now we never did.
“You love her.”
I shoot him a sharp glance. “Yeah.” And then wait, because Miles has his moments of insecurity, too. Once, when Teo was really sick, he ran away from me at the hospital, crying that I didn’t love him as much as I did Teo. I don’t want him to feel I love Tessa more than him.
But Miles just nods. “She’s cool.”
A weight lifts off my chest. “Good.” I lick my dry lips. “Hey, Miles… if Tessa and I were to have kids, how would you feel about it?”
“Are you guys having a baby?”
“No, not yet. I mean, I don’t know if we are going to. Thought to ask you first.”
“Shouldn’t you be asking her first? I kinda think girls are the ones having the babies.”
Damn, he’s right. “You’re a clever kid, Miles.”
He makes a face. “Yeah, I’m not a kid. I’m twelve now.”
Yeah. “So it would be cool with you if I asked Tessa to marry me and had kids with her?”
“Whoa. Marry her?”
I frown. “Is that a problem?”
“Will I have, like, to wear a tuxedo and shit for the wedding?”
“Do you want to?”
“Hell, no.”
“Language,” I say, grinning when he grimaces. “So a tuxedo is a no-no, huh?”
He nods solemnly.
“You’d look good in a tuxedo, you know, with a bow tie and—”
“You’re shitting me.”
I snicker—and hey, how can I stop my brother from swearing when I’m doing it all the damn time? “Yeah, I am. No tuxedos necessary. I swear.”
“On your balls.”
I choke on that and fight the urge to cover them, just in case. “On my… balls. Sure.”
