I stumbled to the side, my body rock fucking hard and no longer willing to tolerate not being inside her. Spinning around, I marched her to the wall.
Pre-cum rippled up my cock at the thought of taking her.
Urgency made me jerky and mean.
This would be quick and vicious. Whatever softness I might or might not have given last night was gone. Today, I was nothing but brutality.
She wanted it hard.
So did I.
I wanted bruises.
I wanted marks.
I wanted my body to be covered in mementos of what happened here so I would remember.
I will.
She cried out as her spine hit the wall. Ivy leaves scattered around us, landing in her hair as we crashed against the vines. I waited for her to tell me to stop even as my hands grabbed the hem of her dress, ripping it up her legs to bunch it at her waist.
I looked down.
Naked.
No underwear.
No obstruction.
Fucking hell, this woman.
She’d be the death of me.
Not the bastards who’d bought me. Not the guests who’d broken me.
Her.
This girl who found me, wanted me, and promised me she’d stay.
I choked as another wash of savagery ignited. I ripped at my shorts, fumbling with the zipper.
My cock sprung free.
Her hand latched immediately around my length.
My head fell back as I let out a guttural groan. “Goddammit, Gemma.”
“Do you like that?” She buried her face in my neck, her teeth scraping on my throat.
I couldn’t speak.
My mind swam. The garden flickered. All that mattered was her touch, pumping me up and down. I shoved her harder against the wall. I grabbed her chin and plunged my tongue into her mouth.
In return, she fisted me, stroked me, dug her thumb into my crown, and smeared wetness down the hypersensitive veins underneath.
We matched.
Violence to violence.
Lust to lust.
My vision spluttered as I fucked her hand.
My breathing turned shallow, and my entire body became twitchy and desperate. An orgasm built in my belly.
I had to be inside her.
Pushing her hand away, I shoved her higher. Once her hips aligned with mine, I pinned her against the ivy again and fell on her.
My hips surged forward, my cock stabbing the wall, her thigh, everything but her pussy.
“Jesus Christ.” I reached down and went to fist myself, needing to guide my desperation to her entrance.
But I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t touch my own body, and how goddamn pathetic was that?
But she knew.
She reached between us, grabbing me again and lining us up without a word.
I think I fell in love with her for that.
I think I gave over my entire being for the simple acknowledgment of my flaws, acceptance of my faults, and her absolute kindness instead of judgment.
Leaving the head of my cock on the precipice of impaling her, she reached up and locked both hands on my shoulders.
Our eyes met.
They met, and they held, and I wanted her with a gut-shredding pain.
I pushed into her wetness...slowly, agonizingly.
Her mouth fell wide.
I stopped halfway in, tormenting both of us.
Her groan matched mine.
We shivered and trembled.
We were wrapped up and suffocating in the final second while we remained two people. I couldn’t breathe as our eyes never unlocked. I felt as if I belonged and was lost and that nothing else existed all at the same confusing time.
She was mine.
Yet it felt as if I’d never be able to keep her.
Anger poured through me, shattering my self-control.
“You want it hard? Take it.” I plunged into her.
I drove my entire length into her in one deep, deep thrust and didn’t stop until she took everything. Every inch, right to the hilt. “Take all of me.”
Heaven and home, hades and hell.
The walls inside my mind crumbled, the chains around my thoughts unraveled, and I was left free. Free-falling into her, caught by her body, wrapped tight by her pussy, shielded from all the shit in my life thanks to her.
I wanted to kiss her so fucking bad.
But I couldn’t stop looking at her.
Our stares had mated as well as our bodies, binding us together as I pulled back and surged forward, burying myself inside her, again and again.
She smiled with a tinge of sadness. Her fingers reached up to tuck long hair behind my ears. She bounced in my arms as I fucked her.
She was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. The only person I ever wanted. The missing pieces of so many holes inside me. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to share and confess and get on my knees with oaths that she was it for me.
She’s mine.
And as long as I had her, I’d be okay.
As long as she was safe, I—
Whiteness.
Nothingness.
Everything went blank.
I was lost in silence while bleach dripped through my mind. The whiteness turned to chalk, dusting me with despair.
I-I—
I tripped back.
I didn’t know where I was. What I’d been doing. I couldn’t see a damn thing.
Something nudged me, upsetting my balance.
I landed on something hard, biting my tongue as the whiteness slowly faded, followed by the oversaturation of light, sound, and smell.
“Kas...Kas. You’re okay.” Hands in my hair. A woman kneeling before me. “Don’t fight it. You’re fine.”
Who...who—
I frowned, trying to work out who—
Gemma!
Ah, fuck, Gem.
I scooted backward, breaking her hold on me and shoving my broken arm up. “Don’t...don’t touch me. I might hurt you.”
“You won’t,” she snapped, full of conviction and power. “It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a blackout. You had them yesterday. You said they were nothing, but this one...” She sniffed, and her voice cracked. “You weren’t there.” She rubbed her nose, sitting back against the mansion’s wall. “You were gone. Your body was inside me, Kas, yet your mind...I couldn’t reach you.”
I scrambled farther away, glancing at her body. Her peach-tone dress covered her legs, her hair held ivy leaves, but there was no evidence I’d been inside—
She held up her hand, pointing at my crotch. “Before you argue that sex didn’t happen, look at yourself.”
I followed her finger, and my teeth snapped together. My shorts bit into my thighs, and wetness covered my very erect cock. Wetness from her. Wetness that said she’d wanted me as much as I’d wanted her.
Instantly, desire shot through me. The hiss in my balls for a release. The tingle down my spine to finish.
I shifted to touch her. To fill her again.
But I shied back.
No.
No way could I finish.
What if I blacked out again? What if I hurt her and didn’t even know?
Christ, what is happening to me?
Shaking my head, I forced myself to go back a few minutes, trying to learn what triggered me. Slowly, pieces returned. Pieces of promises, thrusts, and souvenirs of rough sex against an ivy-vined wall.
And I froze.
Because the obviousness of it was too big to ignore.
My walls had fallen the moment I’d sunk inside her. The trip wires and safety measures I’d installed after my memories came back after five years of nothing were decimated.
She’d done that.
She was so good, so perfect, that every part of me relaxed in her company. Even my mind relaxed, giving her everything.
Never.
I could never afford to do that.
Those walls were there for a reason.
“I...I have to go.” I staggered to my feet. My fingers fumbled with my zipper as I pulled up my shorts, wincing as my cock argued about being confined and denied.
Lust still hummed in my blood. I wanted her with every fiber of my being. But I wanted to keep her safe more.
Gemma stood too, watching me carefully. “You said that last night, and I let you go. I’ve regretted it ever since.” Stepping toward me, she whispered, “Wherever you go, I go. I’m not letting you out of my sight today.”
“That’s not a good idea.” I swallowed hard. “I...I need some time to—”
“Firewood!” she blurted. “Let’s go collect firewood.” Giving me a wobbly smile, she added, “Let’s stick to the original plan, okay? No thinking. No worrying. Whatever just happened, let’s forget it. Let’s just stay busy...together.”
I looked past her to the house.
To the thought of hiding in an empty dorm, in an empty valley, with an empty heart.
Alone.
Loneliness was my prison—a place where I understood the parameters. I could control it, even if I couldn’t get free from it. But I couldn’t do that around her. She threatened all my foundations and all my barriers.
But her offer spoke to the darkness inside me. The part of me that was sick to fucking death of being alone. It wanted her. It wanted to be with her, in every capacity, all the damn time. I didn’t even have to be inside her. I just wanted to be near her. And what sort of curse was that? To find peace with the one person who was killing me?
A cloud skidded over the sun, casting us in shadow, taking away the heat in the sky and reminding me, all over again, that the chill in the air was because autumn had arrived and winter wasn’t far behind.
Our chores couldn’t wait.
I could continue having my mental breakdown while working.
“Just...promise to keep a safe distance. Don’t get too close to me.” I turned my back on her and moved toward the treeline.
She didn’t reply, and I didn’t stop.
We no longer had a chain locking us together, but she’d follow.
I knew she would.
We were joined in so many ways these days, so many disastrous, dangerous ways.
Sure enough, the soft patter of her feet chased me all the way into the trees.
Into my madness.
Into a hell I couldn’t get free from.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
STRANGE HOW LONELINESS COULD creep from nowhere.
It wasn’t as if I wasn’t used to sleeping alone at night. I’d lived alone ever since I moved out of my mother’s place. Most of the time, I liked the independence. I enjoyed never having to ask a partner’s permission to jump out of bed at midnight and go hunt a boulder. I didn’t have to bother with a boyfriend’s hurt feelings, trying to explain how I’d rather spend the weekend climbing a lump of granite than spend it with him. I’d even decided against roommates as I wanted the freedom to do my video editing until dawn without disturbing anyone.
Yet...here I am.
In a house shared with a man I’m in love with, and I’m lonelier than I’ve ever been.
Sighing, I stared at the dark sky with its wispy silver clouds hiding the moon and stars, grateful that the conservatory roof kept the chill at bay. I doubted it was much warmer inside than out, seeing as no heating had been turned on, but it still gave me comfort to know I was in a house and not exposed to the elements that could turn so quickly.
I didn’t know what the time was, but I guessed it was close to one in the morning.
I ought to be fast asleep. After the stress of sex with Kas in the garden, the panic of his memory loss, and the never-ending lugging of firewood, every part of me was exhausted.
I could barely feel my fingers after they’d been used to grab, carry, and stack rows upon rows of kindling and logs. We’d barely made a dent in the quantity required for a full season of snow. It would take days of solid labor to gather what was needed. I thought I was fit and strong. However, it turned out that lugging wood was an entirely different workout from climbing.
It hadn’t helped that Kas didn’t pay any attention to me. He flat-out ignored me when I reminded him not to do so much with his broken arm. He barely grunted at me as we hunted through the forest for fallen branches, dragging longer ones back to hack with the ax and gathering armfuls of smaller ones, perfect for starting a flame.
Once the sun sank out of the sky, and it grew too dark to see in the forest, he grudgingly called it a day. We walked side by side, silent and highly aware of each other as we washed our hands, stood awkwardly in the kitchen, and tried to decide what to do next.
Kas had looked as if he’d pass out on the spot. His skin had an unnatural grayness, his eyes were bracketed with pain, and he breathed heavily even though we were no longer bending and stacking firewood.
I’d offered to cook. I’d braced myself for permission to harvest a few veggies to make something decent to fill our empty stomachs. His eyes had narrowed, hinting he might have forgotten about our bath, but he hadn’t forgotten my lack of rationing or respect when it came to survival.
He’d stormed outside without a word.
He’d returned with a few carrots, a couple of potatoes, and grabbed half the cabbage that was left in the fridge.
I’d kept him company while he sliced the produce, grabbed a big pot, and placed all of it on the stove. The entire time he’d cooked, I’d stood quietly beside him. I couldn’t stop watching how capable he was, how familiar with the chore of feeding himself.
It didn’t matter that he was so capable at cooking because he didn’t have a choice. He’d wanted to survive. Therefore, he’d had to learn how. He’d had no one else. No help gathering firewood, no help cleaning this giant place, no one to turn to at night when his dreams wrenched him awake with torment.
Hadn’t I wanted a man who didn’t rely on a woman to keep him alive? A man who wasn’t afraid to do what was necessary?
I’d shivered with desire as his strong hands wielded knives and dishes. I’d sunk into a strange kind of awe, my chest swelling with a total sense of domestic contentedness.
Kassen Sands was literally everything I’d written on that internet dating profile. He was rugged and masculine but was also skilled at making a life out of nothing and no one. He was aggressive and possessive, but beneath the tangled vines of his past, he was caring and kind.
I had no doubt, if he could open himself up to me, without his nightmares and concussion snatching him back, he would be loving, protective, and sweet.
Yes, sweet.
One hundred percent, he’d be the sweetest, kindest man I’d ever met.
I’d almost swooned in the kitchen while he was completely unaware of my further tripping into feelings. I’d itched with an almost manic desperation to make him see me. To help break him free and talk because if I could—if I could show him how to be happy—he would be my best friend, life partner, and soul mate.
And that’d hurt.
Watching him cook with his jaw clenched as if to stop himself from talking to me and his body language stiff and threatening, I’d made a promise not to push. Not to ask the many, many questions I had. Not to rattle off about my own life, wanting him to know me in return.
I’d let silence cushion the strained connection between us as he tipped water into the well-cooked veggies and smashed it all together, forming a hearty soup, working as fast as he could in case the power went out.
When he’d handed me a bowl full of delicious, comforting food, I’d wanted to throw my arms around him. To kiss him. To show him just how grateful I was, regardless of how agonizing it’d been in the garden. How much my body still wanted his, an orgasm still unfinished, my skin humming to connect again.
Having the man I was in love with suddenly vanish right before my eyes was a gut-wrenching experience. His cock still inside me, his arms still holding me close, yet nothing in his stare. No recognition. No emotion. Just emptines
s, followed by him staggering away from me, dropping me to my feet, and our bodies being torn apart, all thanks to his splintered mind.
Giving me a small smile, Kas had led me out of the kitchen to the dining room.
It’d felt strange eating at the large table still set for a party of monsters. The polished knives and forks glinted, placemats with their leather and ribbon were pristine.
There’d been no salt or pepper, no butter or other condiments to increase the flavor of the basic soup he’d made, but it’d been the best meal I’d had since arriving here. Mainly because Kas ate with me, silent and wary, but at least he stayed by my side.
Eating our meal in the extravagant dining room had allowed my mind to run wild with ghosts of the past. I studied the empty walls where mirrors used to sit, ready to refract the light cast by a few bulbs that hadn’t burned out in the chandelier above the table. Light bounced off the crystal bumblebee napkin holders, and the scent of bygone dinners seemed to swirl around us.
It truly was a decadent mansion; if only it hadn’t kept children trapped and allowed such sick monstrosities to take place.
Kas finished his dinner before me. He’d swooped to his feet, bowed stiffly, and spoke more words than he had all day. “Thank you for your help...with the wood.” He raked a hand through his unruly, long hair, keeping his eyes anywhere but on mine. I hated that he’d pulled away again. I wanted to go back to the garden where something had built inside him. Something had unfurled between us. A decision had been made in his heart.
The sex between us had been wild and real. I’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted me. I’d been prepared to give him everything, but then his mind had gone and ruined what could’ve been. Again.
I pushed my empty bowl away and smiled up at him, weary from physical labor but also drained from emotional trauma. “You’re welcome.” It took so much control not to grab his wrists and force him to stay with me. To tell him how I felt, what I would do for him, that he only had to drop his guard and we could be together.
But I held my tongue because as much as I didn’t want to admit it, having him switch from kissing me with passion, thrusting into me with need, to a man who didn’t see me, hear me, feel me, had reminded me that for all my daydreaming of domestication and futures, he was still unsafe.
I still risked my life living with him.
Fable of Happiness Book Two Page 37
