by Eden Summers
I shouldn’t want this. But I do.
I want to gorge on the kindness. To never, ever leave this moment.
The swirl of fingertips descends in minute increments, from my abdomen, to my hip, my thigh, then the hem of the T-shirt. When skin meets skin, I suck in a breath, the heated contact far more potent in its perfection.
“Too much?” he asks.
“No. Not at all.”
He skims his hand under the shirt, hiking the material gradually as he ascends. There’s nothing demeaning about it. Nothing threatening or brutal. It’s pure gentleness, the only abrasion coming from the brief scrapes of the calluses on his palm.
My heart hammers the farther he travels along my thigh. The sensations are entirely new. Slow and soft and sweet.
“You’re in control,” he murmurs. “Tell me to stop whenever you need.”
I nod into the darkness, incapable of words.
“Penny, you have to answer me. I won’t keep going unless I know you’re comfortable.”
“I’m comfortable,” I pant. “I know how to tell you to stop.”
“Good.” His touch skims to my inner thigh, the sensitive skin bursting into a valley of goose bumps.
It’s remarkable. All the tingles. The burn where his attention doesn’t even touch.
The approach to my core is painfully lethargic. He takes his time, learning every inch of me, creeping forward one minute, only to double back. Circling. Grazing. Branding.
By the time he reaches the juncture where leg meets groin I’m a mess of rampant breathing, my throat dry, my core pulsing.
I contemplate telling him to stop.
Ending this now—happy and blissed—is far better than the uncertainty that awaits. I can’t get through this without acknowledging my trauma. Can I? Being like this with him can’t be that easy. I have to break down soon. It’s inevitable. I’m merely waiting for the switch to be flicked.
“Luc…”
“Hmm?” He guides my legs apart with slight pressure, exposing my vulnerabilities.
He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t move his body closer to mine. He only continues to circle and swirl. Tease and tempt.
It’s nothing like my past.
A completely foreign experience. Strikingly, agonizingly different.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and clutch the sheets as he circles my pussy, the lightest glide of two fingertips moving around and around my outer edges.
This is far beyond what I wanted.
It’s more passion. More kindness.
I envisaged sterility. Fear. Sorrow.
Yet here I am, tempted to beg for more, my hands itching to clutch him to my chest as his inhales labor.
Tension builds inside me. Sweet, needy tension.
I don’t know how to sate the pulse becoming an adamant force deep down in my core. It makes me mindless, all the tingles and bliss.
He continues the circles, gliding closer and closer until he’s brushing my pussy lips.
I shudder, anticipation trapping the breath in my lungs.
I don’t know what comes next, but I want it. I need it.
“Luca?”
“Yeah?” His voice is breathy. Graveled.
“Don’t stop.”
He groans, his digits parting my folds to slide through slickness. My back arches. My breasts tingle. One finger enters me. Gradually. Agonizingly slowly.
I pant, wanting more as I close my eyes.
But bliss doesn’t greet me in the mental darkness. Luther does. His conniving face stares back at me, smirking.
I scramble backward, the claws of panic snatching at me.
“What is it?” Luca asks. “What happened?”
“Turn on the lamp.” I scoot to the head of the bed as the light flicks on, my arms around my legs, my knees near my chest. I gasp for breath.
The man who comes into view washes away the fear. He holds the memories at bay with the concern in his expression. The silent promise of protection.
“I took it too far.” He covers my legs with the sheet.
“No, not at all. I was loving everything until I closed my eyes.”
He winces. “It’s okay. There’s no rush.”
There is to me.
There’s now a finish line I want to pass. A victory over past demons I have to claim.
I reach for him, my fingers tentatively gliding over his chest. He sucks in a breath at the connection. Tenses.
“I’m wound tight, shorty.”
“Me, too. But I don’t want you to stop.” I sink back onto the bed, turning onto my side to roll into him. “I need you to keep going.” I can’t quit here or I may never return.
“Why don’t we save this for another day? We’re not—”
“Please, Luc.”
His nostrils flare, his frustration clear in the heavy exhale. “Whatever you want.”
I’ve seen enough men consumed with lust to recognize the sight before me. He’s pained with need. And his restraint is a monumental gift I’ve never received before.
Men don’t hesitate to take from me. They steal and torment and punish.
But not Luc.
This time he guides my thigh to rest on top of his, propping my legs apart. He looks down at me, pussy splayed, wetness dripping.
“Fuck you’re beautiful, Pen. So fucking beautiful.”
I wilt for him, completely slump into a puddle of adoration. “Please kiss me.”
I drag my hand around his neck and pull him close. He groans as our mouths meet, the vibration sinking into my chest.
I lose myself in him. Sucking. Licking. Biting. But most of all, learning. I notice the way he growls when I sink my teeth into his lower lip. I pay attention to the way he deepens the kiss if I inch back.
We smother each other, the passion climbing higher and higher with each sweep of our tongues until his fingers sneak back between my thighs.
I didn’t think I could become needier than I was before. I never would’ve thought desire could be this painful. Or that bliss could be entirely consuming, like the way it is when his fingers slide back inside me.
I dig my nails into his neck. Cling. Claw.
“Oh, God.” I gasp.
He resumes his slow torment. His digits glide into my pussy, stroking, then retreating completely. Back and forth. Over and over, delving deeper with each pass.
His breathing increases as he continues to kiss me, scraping me with his stubble.
This man may think he’s falling in love with me, but my feelings are certain.
I adore him. Treasure him. Love him.
He put his future on the line. His life. All for me.
My gratitude will never die.
He slides his fingers farther inside, deeper and deeper, the heel of his palm placing pressure on my clit.
I need more.
So much more.
I grate into him, following his rhythm with my hips. I kiss his shoulder, his jaw, his cheek.
He stiffens further, his chest and arms becoming stone. Still he doesn’t take from me. He gives and gives and gives. Not protesting when I dig my nails into his skin. Not backing away when I bite his neck.
“How did I get so lucky?” he growls into my ear. “What the hell did I do to deserve you?”
His adoration triggers something inside me. It breaks open the hardened fear and sets my demons free.
I latch onto his wrist between my thighs, rocking harder, faster, until my world splinters away from the destruction and pain and realigns with peace.
I realign with him.
I come undone, my core spasming. Pounding jolts of pleasure blindside me.
My breath is stolen with another kiss. My thoughts, too.
“Keep going, shorty.” He speaks against my lips. “Don’t fucking stop.”
I don’t want to. I could stay like this forever.
Thrumming.
Throbbing.
I cling to him, rock, rock, rocking, until the waves
of bliss recede and all I’m left with are peppered kisses, depleted energy, and an overwhelming sense of exhilaration.
Wow.
“You’re incredible.” He holds my gaze as I collapse onto the mattress. “How are you feeling?”
“Breathless,” I pant. “Overwhelmed... Happy.”
“Good.” He places a peck on my temple. “Because I need to leave you for a minute.”
I don’t want him to go. Not now. Or ever. But I don’t protest as he slides from the bed, giving me an unrestricted view of all the scars peppered across his back like confetti.
“I won’t be long.” He walks to the bathroom door on the far side of the room, latching the lock behind him.
My euphoria rapidly recedes.
I’m almost lonely now.
The shower turns on, and the rapid rush of water falters, then rhythmically sloshes. He’s pleasuring himself.
Without me.
I turn cold. Should I have offered him relief? Or maybe he ran so fast because he didn’t want the offer at all. Maybe he didn’t want to be with someone who could be harboring a wealth of STDs, because no matter how paranoid Luther was about the cleanliness of the women he raped, it doesn’t mean I’m not dirty.
Luca hadn’t wanted to touch me to begin with. Had barely bridged the space between us before I asked him to turn on the lamp.
“Stop it,” I snarl to myself and slide from the bed, unwilling to let the negativity burrow further. Not tonight. Not after what just happened.
I make my way to the bathroom down the hall, distracting myself by using the facilities and freshening up.
I even tidy the vanity cupboards in an attempt to keep the taunting thoughts at bay, but it doesn’t help. I question myself, wondering if I moved too fast. If the intimate moment should’ve been more difficult. If I’m a fraud for not being shattered by a man touching me.
Should I have hated the experience?
Why was it easy for him to bring me pleasure after so much pain?
The thoughts pound through my mind, gaining force, stealing away what bliss I had and replacing it with a cage of mental torture.
A tightening, restricting cell.
Breathing becomes harder, my lungs unable to be filled.
The light thud of approaching footfalls soothes me. Luca is here. Outside the bathroom door. I can feel him as if he’s on the other side of the wood, waiting for me to come out.
“You’re not okay, are you?” he murmurs through the barrier between us.
His insight draws a sob from my throat. “I’m confused. That’s all.”
The door creeps open, and I’m forced to step to the side as his stern face of concern bears down on me, authoritative and strong.
“Talk to me,” he demands in a gruff growl.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say whatever’s in your head. Did I hurt you? Are you scared of me? Did I push you too far?”
“No. It’s none of that.”
“Then why are you upset?”
“I’m not. I promise. I’m just overwhelmed. Both happy and… I can’t explain.”
“Self-sabotaging?”
I open my mouth to protest, but pause instead. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I just thought that either way, this exploration had to end badly. Either you hated it and felt accordingly. Or you didn’t, but your mind and body are so used to feeling like shit that you don’t know how to react any other way.”
I cock my head, blinking as I hold his gaze.
Maybe that’s it.
Maybe that’s exactly it.
I want to be happy. The euphoria and bliss were everything in the heat of the moment, then as soon as thoughts had the time to fester, they turned the light to dark. “How did you know?”
He gives a sad smile. “’Cause I’m brilliant.”
“No, really. How did you know?”
“Trauma has a lot of shitty bonus prizes that tend to bite you on the ass when you least expect it.”
“You know from experience.” It’s not a question. I can see it in his eyes.
“I know enough. But none of that matters now. Let’s get you back to bed.”
I want to pry, to learn the parts of him he keeps hidden. I want to know everything there is about this man. “Will you tell me about your experience?”
“Sure. If you stick around long enough.” He winks and takes my hand, leading me to the hall. “For now, though, you need to get some rest.”
17
Luca
She settles into her side of the mattress, her silhouette unmoving beside me.
Even in the shadows she’s becoming easier to read.
Back in Greece, she hid everything—her thoughts, emotions, reactions. Now it’s as if she’s a written text, understood and deciphered from the slightest cadence change to her breathing.
“Get over here.” I reach for her, dragging her into the middle of the bed.
She lets out a gasp of shock, but there’s no protest. She comes willingly, draping her arm over my chest. Maybe her escape attempt was a blessing in disguise. Or it could’ve been, if she hadn’t almost died.
We wouldn’t be here otherwise.
She wouldn’t be mine.
In my room.
In my arms.
But she’s quiet. Too quiet. That isn’t a good sign.
“What’s on your mind, Pen.”
“You’re tired,” she whispers. “There’s all the time in the world to talk tomorrow.”
“I don’t need sleep. And apparently, neither do you. So spit it out.”
She chuckles, subtle and breathy.
It’s so fucking good to hear that sound from her. The comfort after all the pain.
“It’s nothing.” She rakes a finger over my pec, her touch pausing on scars. “I was only thinking that I don’t know a whole lot about you.”
“You’re thinking that now? Isn’t it a little late to be having cold feet?” I add humor to my tone to hide my apprehension.
I’m all in with this thing between us. Balls to the wall. Heart on my fucking sleeve.
I don’t want her second-guessing anything. Let alone me.
“No. It’s nothing like that. I was just thinking about all the things I know…”
“And wondering about all the things you don’t?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “I barely know anything, apart from the way you make me feel and how you like your coffee.”
“So ask.”
“Okay…” She shuffles beside me, raising on to her elbow. “Where are you from? And how did you end up here? You told me in Greece you used to be a SEAL, but never explained why you aren’t anymore. I also want to know more about your brother. And your parents—”
“That’s quite a list.” I stop her there. Deliberately. “We’ll be up until sunrise at this rate.”
I don’t see her smile. I feel it. There’s something in the air that warms with her happiness.
This Penny isn’t like the warrior I rescued from a predator. Her edges are softer. She’s more woman. Less wild, caged animal.
“I’ve barely even started.” She chuckles again. “How long have you lived here? When was your last relationship? How did you end up working for Torian?”
“My brother.” I tread carefully, wanting to get this over with before she nosedives any further into unwanted territory. “I was on a mission overseas when I found out Benji had gotten tied up with the most notorious crime family in Oregon. I dropped everything in the hopes I could pull him out before it was too late.”
“But ended up working for them instead? Did they force you? Threaten you?”
“No.” Despite her probably wanting a different answer, I tell her, “I’m here by choice.”
“You gave up being a SEAL to work for Cole Torian?”
“Not exactly. I gave up for the love of my brother. It was a case of leaving my post too often to maintain my role. And the last time was in the midd
le of an op. But Benji needed me, and he’s all I’ve got. I’d do anything for him. So I acted against instructions not to abandon my post. Even ignored my superior’s threats to have me court marshalled.”
There’s a beat of silence where her hand freezes on my chest. “Weren’t you worried?”
“I was more worried for my brother.”
There’s another pause, then, “Did they go through with their threat to court martial?”
“You bet your ass they did. I was dishonorably discharged.”
The only stability I’d ever had in my life was gone. I’d been left with nothing. Nothing but Benji in a fucked-up situation.
“That’s a heavy price to pay for being the older sibling.”
“I’m not older. My big brother has a few years on me. Doesn’t change anything though. It’s how it’s always been. He gets in trouble, and I try my best to drag him out of it.” I place my hands under my head, feigning calm. “Isn’t that what family are for?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one. I barely remember what it’s like anymore.” She sucks in a deep breath and sighs. “How about your scars? Are they from your time as a SEAL or from working with Cole?”
I force myself not to flinch as she makes a direct hit on a shitty subject. “That’s a long story best saved for another day.”
“You don’t want to share it with me?”
I don’t want to share it with anyone.
Not now. Not ever.
“Does it have something to do with the trauma you mentioned before?” She looms over me. “I’m not pressuring you to spill secrets… I just thought if we had something in common…”
“It’s not a conversation I want to have, Pen.”
There’s a slight tweak to her muscles. A flinch that consumes me with guilt.
“I’m sorry.” She rests back onto the bed, stealing away her touch. “I won’t ask again.”
No, I bet she won’t. She’s too considerate for that.
I’ll just be left to feel like shit for denying her.
“I’m getting tired.” She rolls away from me to wrestle with her pillow. “Good night, Luc. Thanks for everything.”
Fuck me.
Fuck me for pretending all my ducks are in a row when clearly they’re not.
Fuck me for forcing her to face her past when I barely attempt to face my own. It’s not fair. If only I knew how to function any other way.
