Wrong for Me

by Jackie Ashenden

  “You’re blaming me for everything that happened to you, and yet you’re not even taking responsibility for that guy you punched in the face. The guy who died.”

  Ah, Christ, he couldn’t avoid them any longer. Couldn’t avoid the truth. That he’d been a coward too. That he’d forced her to shoulder the responsibility for his actions, because he couldn’t handle the fact that he’d killed a man.

  He’d been the one who’d landed the first punch. Sure, it had been in her defense, but that didn’t make it better. That didn’t make it right.

  “What happened with me was not your fault.” His voice had gone hoarse. “And I was wrong to blame you.” He let his thumb stroke the soft skin of her throat, looking into her eyes. “So stop punishing yourself.” He paused a moment. “Or if it’s punishment you want, then maybe you should be punishing me.”

  A tear slid down one cheek, her dark gaze searching his face. “I had a crush on you once—did you know that? Way back when.”

  The hand around his heart squeezed so tight he could barely breathe. She’d wanted him once. All this time and she’d wanted him. Somewhere deep inside, a part of him howled at the unfairness of what they could have had together if only they’d talked to each other, been a bit more honest, a bit older. But they hadn’t. And now they were here with so many broken bridges between them, they probably would never be able to find their way back to each other.

  He almost couldn’t speak. “You never said.”

  “No. You never looked at me like that, so I didn’t want to tell you. And after Evan . . .” She stopped.

  He didn’t want to ask, but he made himself all the same. “Do I make you feel those things? Do I make you feel dirty and cheap and disgusting?”

  Another tear slid down her cheek. “No.” The word was very, very faint. “I thought I would feel that afterward, but . . . I haven’t. I keep waiting for it, Levi.”

  Maybe he should have felt relieved, but he didn’t. He just felt angry on her behalf. Because she was still waiting to feel all those things, and those memories were still in her head. They needed to be gone.

  He had to do something; he had to fix it. But he didn’t know how.

  Life had taken a lot from her, and it felt just plain wrong not to help her. He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t change the decision she’d made all those years ago, when she’d been so young, inspired by the dreams he’d told her were within reach. But he could give her back some of the things she’d lost. He could make her feel good, give her pleasure, give her some good memories instead of the bad.

  Very deliberately, he stroked her throat again, looking into her eyes. Then he slid his hand up her neck, around and behind to her nape, pushing his fingers up into all that glossy, black hair, urging her head back gently.

  She didn’t resist, staring up at him, as if she had no fight left and was waiting for the next blow to fall.

  Yeah, he was going to build all those bridges again. Every fucking one.

  “I want to give you something,” he said in a low, fierce voice. “I want to give you what we should have had together. What we missed out on. I want to make it like he never touched you, like he was never even there. Only me, Sunny. Only, ever me.” He paused, scanning her face. “Will you let me?”

  Before, he would have just taken what he wanted. But not now. Now, he wanted her to choose.

  Her eyes were so dark, like bitter espresso, and there were so many emotions in them that he couldn’t decipher them all. But all she said was, “Yes.”

  Which was all he needed.

  So he bent over her, covering her mouth with his.

  It wasn’t like those raw, demanding kisses he gave her every night, the ones where he took everything and gave nothing back.

  He didn’t do gentle, didn’t do soft, but he tried, running his tongue along the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open. Tasting her slowly at first and maybe even delicately, exploring her mouth as she let him in. Like a first kiss. Like it should have been between them.

  She tasted all salty from her tears and yet with a lick of sweetness that had him wanting more, because it always did. Testing his patience and the grip he had on his control. No one tasted like she did. No one.

  He eased her head back further, sliding his tongue along hers, still gentle, savoring the heat of her and that sweet, honey flavor. She shivered, responding to him, beginning to explore him, her mouth hot and wet, beginning to demand.

  So sweet. And not enough.

  He lifted his head, his fingers wound into her hair to keep her there. Her eyes were very, very dark, her mouth swollen from the kiss, her breathing fast and uneven.

  Desire built inside him, a hunger for her that some part of him knew would be never ending. He would always want her, no matter how many years passed, no matter how many times they hurt each other. Other women had never done it for him the way she did. None of them had ever been right.

  It would always be Rachel. Always.

  “I want to know what you imagined when you thought of me,” he said roughly. “I want you to show me.” He released her and stepped back, moving over to the tattoo chair. “But I’m not going to force you if you don’t want to do it. It’ll be your choice.” He glanced at the chair a moment, then he got into it and sat back. “And if you don’t want to, I’ll settle for that tattoo you promised.”

  Chapter 14

  Rachel stared as Levi linked his hands behind his head, stretching out on the chair as if he were preparing for an afternoon nap. Except there was nothing sleepy about the look in his eyes or the aura of tension around him.

  But it wasn’t anger this time. It looked almost like . . . vulnerability.

  Well, she knew how he felt because she was feeling like that now. Shaky, naked, and vulnerable. Every single protection stripped away. It was scary as hell.

  She’d thought he’d gone, that he’d left her alone, and the tears had come whether she’d wanted them to or not. Tears she’d held back for a long time. Telling him everything had been the hardest thing she’d ever had to do and him leaving . . . Well, it was what she’d deserved, wasn’t it?

  Except, he hadn’t left. His arms had come around her, turning her, and, before she knew what was happening, she was pressing her face against the hot skin of his bare chest, weeping as though her heart would break. And he’d held her the way he’d held her in bed, keeping her together, or else she would have fallen apart.

  And now he was sitting there looking at her with that searing look in his eyes, as if he wanted her, even knowing all about Evan and what she’d done. As if she hadn’t been tainted by that stupid, naïve decision she’d made back when she was so young.

  Her mouth burned from the kiss, from the gentleness in it, desire gathering into a small, hard knot between her thighs. Desire she’d never wanted because it always reminded her of the bad things. Of the shameful things.

  Of her little bedroom with its single bed and Evan on top of her. Of desperately hoping her gran wouldn’t hear him moaning. Of thinking it would help if she shut her eyes and pretended she wasn’t there.

  “Why?” Her voice sounded all thick from crying. “Why do you want that? Why do you even want me?”

  His focus never wavered from her. “Because I’ve always wanted you, and nothing will ever change that. Because I don’t want you to have those memories. I want you to have something better. Because everyone’s taken things from you, including me. And now I want to give you something back.”

  She swallowed, wanting, aching, and yet still afraid. “Every single choice I’ve made has ended up with my regretting it, Levi. What’s to say this one will be any different?”

  He stared at her for a long moment, and then his mouth curved slightly, an almost smile that did strange things to her heartbeat. A smile she recognized from years ago. “I’ll make sure you don’t regret it, Sunny. I promise.”

  I promise.

  She shouldn’t trust those promises, but her body was moving befor
e her mind had a chance to catch up, going over to the chair, her heart thumping, her breathing getting short and fast and hard.

  He reached out and pulled her into his lap like he had done before, only this time, he made her face him, straddling him. As her legs spread on either side of his hips, her miniskirt rode up to the tops of her thighs, no doubt giving him a prime view of her dark purple lace panties.

  She shivered, the denim of his jeans rough against her bared skin, the heat of him like a furnace. She really should be used to him by now. But she wasn’t. She was fully clothed, and yet she felt utterly naked.

  Levi let her go, leaning back in the chair again with his hands behind his head. “So, you wanted me. Tell me what your hottest fantasy was.”

  She could feel heat rising in her cheeks, God, heat rising everywhere. “It . . . it wasn’t very dirty.”

  “Yet you’re blushing.”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s fucking hot.” His gaze traveled down her body, before settling between her thighs. “Tell me.”

  She took a shaky breath. “I used to imagine you touching me.”

  “Where?”

  “Between my legs.”

  “Show me how.”

  Once she’d pushed those thoughts out of her head so hard, she’d almost forgotten they were there, not wanting them to be tainted by what had happened with Evan. Now it was impossible to think of anything else.

  She stared at him. His eyes glittered, the flame of desire burning strong, his focus concentrated fiercely on her.

  He knew what she’d done. He knew her darkest secrets. And yet he was still looking at her as if she were the only thing worth looking at in the entire universe. As if she were special.

  As if she still mattered.

  Something inside her relaxed all of a sudden, something that had been fighting a long time.

  She could have this moment for herself. She was allowed. And if it all went to shit in the end, well, it would have been worth it just for this alone.

  Rachel moved her hand down, her fingers sliding over the damp lace of her panties, watching his gaze move down along with them. “Like this.”

  “That’s good, sweetheart. Show me more.”

  Her mouth had gone dry, her breathing getting faster. The pulse of desire had gotten stronger, but this time, as she watched that same desire reflected in his eyes, she welcomed it.

  She moved her hand again, pressing down with her index finger, feeling the heat and softness of her own flesh. “Here,” she whispered. “I imagined you touching me here.”

  His attention was riveted to where her hand was, color staining his high cheekbones, his rapidly hardening cock pressing against her butt. And she felt a certain kind of power flow through her all of a sudden.

  Perhaps it was something she’d always known, that she could affect him as strongly as he affected her, yet she’d never fully grasped it until now.

  It only added to the desire, building it higher.

  He shifted restlessly beneath her. “I need to see you.”

  “Say please.” She didn’t know where she’d gotten the confidence, but it shot through her blood like adrenaline.

  He blinked, his gaze flicking up to meet hers in surprise, and she smiled, unexpectedly enjoying having the balance of power tip her way for a moment.

  The look in his eyes flared, hunger burning there, and his mouth curved as if he was enjoying the change, too. “Please.” The word was rough and raw and sounded like a demand, but hell, he’d said it.

  She eased her miniskirt farther up her thighs. “Better?”

  “Oh yeah,” he murmured, his attention flicking down again. “Much.”

  And, Jesus, but that made her feel good. The desire on his handsome face, the evidence of how much what she was doing affected him.

  She’d never known there was power in this, had been too afraid to even try to understand it. But somehow, now she wasn’t. Somehow he’d taken her fear away.

  It made her want to explore this newfound power further.

  Easing her thighs apart to give him a better view, she moved her finger, sliding it up the center of her pussy, then back down again, shivering as the sparks of pleasure became tiny flames.

  “Fuck,” he said roughly, his voice low and guttural. “Is this what you wanted me to do to you?”

  “Yes.” Her own voice was unsteady as she looked into the dark shadow and silver blue of his uneven gaze. “I wanted you to stroke me. Your fingers on my pussy just like . . . this.”

  “Where? I want to see it.”

  “Here.” She pressed her finger down on her clit and circled around it, those tiny flames of pleasure licking higher.

  He shifted restlessly beneath her, and she could feel him, long and hard and thick. “And how did I make you feel?”

  She slid her finger back and forth, the material of her panties getting damper, getting wet. “So good, Levi. God, you made me feel so good.”

  It was impossible to look away from him.

  He wasn’t leaning back now, but forward, his gaze pinned to the movement of her hand, his face drawn in lines of fierce hunger. And she couldn’t stop staring at the way the light hit the perfectly carved angles of his face, creating shadows that hid his eyes and made his cheekbones stand out. It caught the gilt in his dark blond hair too and the stubble along his jaw.

  He was so beautiful. She wanted him so much; she always had.

  “Keep going,” he said hoarsely, and reached forward to tug aside the crotch of her panties. “Please, Sunny.”

  Ah, that please. It undid her. Like the look on his face undid her. It made her want to give him whatever he wanted.

  So she slid her fingers over her own slick folds, stroking over and over, the pleasure winding tighter and tighter.

  “More.” His voice was a dark whisper. “Show me more.”

  She slid one finger deep inside her sex, feeling her muscles grip on tightly, gasping at the sensation. She shut her eyes, hardly even aware of doing so, remembering being in her bed before it had all happened with Evan, thinking about Levi. Touching herself, tentatively at first, then harder, faster. Imagining his hand instead of her own, his mouth on hers, the feeling indescribable.

  “How does it feel?” he murmured.

  “Incredible.” She eased another finger inside herself, sliding them out, then back in again. “Your fingers inside me made me feel . . . so fucking good.”

  “Yeah, I know.” His hands were on her knees, pushing them even wider, and he made a soft growling sound of approval. “You’re so wet you’re glistening. And I can smell you, too. Christ, it’s delicious.”

  She’d begun to shake, the movement of her hand and the tight grip of her sex around her fingers increasing the pressure inside her, building it higher and higher.

  “Did you imagine my cock inside you?” Levi’s voice wound around her, rough and heated. “Did you imagine what it would feel like to have me fuck you?”

  “Yes, God, yes . . .” Her thighs were trembling, her muscles tightening. “I wanted it. I dreamed about it.”

  “And did you make yourself come, Sunny? Did you imagine my doing that too you?”

  “Yes . . .” Her voice had gotten so thick. “Every time.”

  “Good. Because I’m going to do it now too.” And then his fingers were wrapping around her wrist, pulling her hand away, and it was his fingers on her wet, swollen flesh now. His hand.

  She gasped, her body arching helplessly, her thighs shaking even more.

  “Open your eyes,” he ordered. “Look down.”

  And she did, obeying him without thought, looking down between her spread legs, at the hand moving on her, the ink of his tattoo dark on his knuckles.

  It was the most erotic sight she’d ever seen in her life.

  Then his finger pushed in deep, tearing a groan from her throat, making her flex against his hand, shuddering with the indescribable pleasure of it. And he sat up, s
liding the fingers of his other hand into her hair, drawing her head back so all she could do was look up into the shocking beauty of his face.

  “Take it, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

  He pressed his thumb down on her clit, making everything get so bright and so intense she couldn’t even cry out. All she could do was shudder in his arms as the orgasm crashed over her and swept her away.

  * * *

  He covered her mouth, taking her cry of release, holding her as she trembled and shook against him. He was so hard it hurt, the clutch of her pussy around his fingers insanely erotic, and he wanted nothing so much as to lift her up and bury himself inside her.

  But he didn’t quite yet, waiting until her shudders had quieted and her soft cries died away. Then he lifted his mouth from hers, staring at her. Her lashes had come down, veiling her gaze; her cheeks were flushed. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his chest and he let her, gazing at the light glossing her hair.

  Watching her touch herself while she’d told him what she’d imagined him doing to her had been so fucking hot. Watching her give in to her own desire, explore her feminine power, had been incredible.

  He felt half desperate, and when he lifted his hand to stroke her hair, it was shaking. “Sunny . . .” The word was all ragged. “Sunny . . . Jesus Christ.”

  She’d imagined him doing all that to her. Imagined him as more than a friend even back then. All that time they’d both wasted . . .

  What about your plans?

  Ah, fuck, what did they matter? He had his dream right now, sitting on his lap, shaking from the effects of her orgasm. And not only that, she’d let him hold her as she’d wept, had leaned against him wanting support.

  No more walls. No more barriers.

  This was what he’d wanted. What he always had wanted.

  She shifted in his lap, lifting her head to look up at him, her eyes so dark they were almost black.

  “Tell me what you want.” He could hardly speak. “I’ll give it to you. Anything, it’s yours.”