Irresistibly Mine

by Stephanie Rowe

  With a low groan, he moved over her, and she let him tumble her backwards. Her head hit the pillow, and his hands were already on her hips, and his mouth on her belly, working his way across her ribs. She was so desperate for more touch, for more connection to this incredible man.

  She tugged at his shirt, and he pulled back just enough for her to pull it over his head. The moment that his shirt was off she flattened her palm against his chest, closing her eyes as she breathed in the sensation of his hard, strong body beneath her palms. He was the strength, the foundation, the realness that she'd never had in her life.

  "My turn," he said, his voice gruff as he reached for the hem of her own top. She sat up and held her arms over her head, watching his face as he tugged it over her hands and tossed it aside. His gaze swept over her body with such raw appreciation and desire that she wanted to freeze that moment in time.

  "No one has ever looked at me like that," she said, her voice a mere whisper, afraid to speak loudly enough to break the spell.

  He said nothing, but he bent his head, brushing kisses over the swell of her breast, and the lace of her bra. She closed her eyes, her fingers sliding through his hair as he pressed kiss after kiss to the tender skin of her body. The sensation of being kissed that way was astounding. She could feel the cool night air on her skin. She could feel the prickle of his whiskers on her breasts. She could feel the shift of the mattress as he moved over her, his weight making indents in the softness. She was so aware of every nuance of him, and his kisses, and the experience of being in that moment with him. It was perfection, and she wanted more, so much more.

  He raised his head and took her mouth in a searing kiss that chased away all thought except him. She was vaguely aware of his hand fiddling with the front of her bra, and then her breasts were free, exposed to the night, and to the man whose knees were on either side of her hips.

  As he kissed her, his hand cupped her breast, tweaking her nipple and sending desire spiraling through her. She shifted restlessly, locking her feet around his calves, her entire body crying out for more.

  The ring of a phone echoed in the room, and he swore, breaking the kiss. He stayed still, his body suspended over hers as the ringing of his phone echoed through the dark room. He jerked it out of his back pocket and silenced it without even looking at it.

  He clenched it in his hand, his eyes searching hers in the dim light. "I want to stay," he said. "I want to make love to you all night. A thousand times, maybe more." His voice was raw, broken, just as she felt her own heart was. "Fuck," he said. "I know I should leave, but…"

  "No buts. I need you, too, Blue." She grabbed his shoulders and yanked him down to her, taking his mouth in a fierce kiss. He growled low in his throat, and suddenly the kiss took on epic intensity. She heard the clunk of his phone on her nightstand, and then his hands went to the fly of her jeans, at the exact moment that she did the same to him. Their hands tangled with each other's, and they both laughed as their fumbled attempts to disrobe each other failed miserably.

  "Shit," Blue said, rolling off her. "It's like I can't even remember how to get undressed anymore." He sat up on the bed and quickly began to unlace his boots. Chloe kicked off her flip-flops, which seemed to take the same amount of time as it took for him to get his boots off. Before she could marvel at the speed with which he managed to disrobe himself, he was already standing with his pants on their way to the ground. She was shocked by the thick cords of muscle in his quads, realizing how incredibly strong he really was. This was the kind of man that could hurt anybody he wanted to hurt. He was the kind of man who could kill anybody who he wanted to kill. He was the violence that had terrified her every night when she lay in the darkness as a kid, but he was also the protector that she had dreamed of in the same moments.

  Ditching his boxer briefs in a quick, efficient motion, Blue crawled onto the bed, showering her with tender kisses that took her away from the memories. His kisses locked her firmly in the moment, in his presence, and in his touch. She gasped as he kissed her breast, barely even aware of his fingers on the fly of her jeans, as he quickly unfastened them and slid them down her hips.

  Again, cool air washed across her skin, a visceral reminder that she had no more shields left to protect herself from him. She was naked, not just with her body, but with her heart. His story had stripped her of all the shields that she had erected in her life, as had her own telling of what her childhood had been like. She felt raw and vulnerable, exposed. But just as she was starting to retreat inside herself, Blue stretched up beside her and took her into his arms, protecting her as she'd always wanted to be protected.

  She tangled her feet with his, closing her eyes as he showered tiny butterfly kisses across her face. One of his hands was cupping her chin so gently, and his other hand was sliding along her hip, down the outside of her thigh to the back of her knee. He wasn't going right for the gold. He was seducing her with touches so tender and tantalizing that she forgot to feel afraid. She just hovered in breathless anticipation, waiting to see where his hand would go next, desperate to see where his mouth would land.

  She ran her hands over his shoulders, drinking in the curves of his muscles beneath his skin. His skin was so soft, and his muscles were like steel barely contained by his skin. She could feel scars, little marks, at various places on his body. She realized then that the scar on his face was not an aberration. It was just the only one she could see. How many times had he been shot? How many times had he been badly hurt in his quest to save the innocent?

  She thought back to his comment about how he would continue his work until there was no one left to rescue, or until he died. She realized then that dying was not his greatest fear. His greatest fear was of the darkness, of the gaping wound inside him. His greatest fear was losing himself to that. If it took being shot in the heart to feel like he had defeated it, he would take it in a heartbeat. "Oh, Blue," she whispered softly. Blue might have saved a lot of people, but she knew that the world needed him still in it. Getting shot tomorrow, or next week, or the week after, wasn't the solution. Even the thought of it made her own heart ache, and the gaping sense of loss assaulted her.

  Dammit. How could she already be experiencing that sense of loss at the idea of losing him? Wasn't she protecting herself against that? Wasn't she —

  His mouth closed on hers in a kiss so raw and vulnerable that she forgot to be afraid. All she cared about was wrapping this incredible man up in her arms, and her kiss, and trying to give him a little whisper of comfort that he would never give himself.

  The moment she gave herself over to the kiss, it took on new levels of intensity. Suddenly all her shields fell, and she put herself into him, into the kiss, into the intensity of the connection with him. With all the foster kids she'd tried to help, the actual number that she'd made a difference for had been infinitesimally small. But with Blue, she felt like she could make a difference. She felt like maybe she could help him, at least in this moment.

  He shifted slightly, his hand going between her legs. The moment his fingers touched her, her whole body writhed in response. Need escalated in her, searing her veins, making her heart race, as if it was searching for oxygen that only he could provide. She locked her arms around his neck, trying to bring him closer, needing him desperately.

  As soon as she did so Blue moved his hand, sinking between her hips. She could feel his hardness press against the part of her that she had shared with no one in so long. But with Blue, it felt right. She wanted him inside her. She wanted him connected with her in a way that was so personal, so deep, and so forever.

  Blue broke the kiss, and pulled back, framing her face with his hands. His forearms were on the pillow by her head, framing her with his bulk and his strength. He searched her face, his brow furrowed. "Chloe? Do you want me to stop?" She heard the edge in his voice, and knew how much it had taken him to pull back, to give her space to turn him away.

  "No," she said. "Don't stop."

 
His face softened, and he kissed her again, a sweet, beautiful kiss, that made it feel like he was pouring sunshine into her heart. Then he shifted his position, moving even more intimately against her. For a split second, he hovered there, and she had a sudden rush of anticipation, of excitement, and then he slid inside, effortlessly and smoothly, her body accommodating him instantly.

  Desire rushed through her, brilliant and electrifying, the way it was supposed to be, and the way it had never been before. He sank deep inside her, connecting them so intimately she knew she would never forget this moment and all the sensation stirring inside her. He whispered her name, as he drove deeper, and then withdrew. Each time he withdrew, he drove a little bit further, stoking the fires in her with relentless, tender loving.

  The sensations ricocheting through her were extraordinary, and she clung to him tightly, needing to feel his shoulders under her hands, needing to feel that it was him, this incredibly amazing man who had touched her heart in a way she had absolutely refused to ever allow again.

  Blue slipped his hand between their bodies, touching the most tender but I don't like however the reason I feared out as I remember the show for see what happens if you said as much as he did when I said what is on I was thinking of letter what you did communicate site but as I'm sitting here thinking I might hug so about school clear you next for you as writing a journal part of her. The moment that his hand made contact, an orgasm ripped through her, eliciting a cry from her throat. He bucked against her as the orgasm shook him. Together they rode the wave, an extraordinary, intimate sharing between two souls who had never been vulnerable, except in this moment, except with each other.

  It was everything she ever wanted, and everything she ever feared, because feeling something this extraordinary would leave her with only shadows when he was gone.

  As Blue sank to the pillow beside her, and pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her temple, she knew that it was worth every second of darkness and loneliness that might follow. This moment, with Blue, was what life was supposed to be about. The connection with another human being so deep that it carved promises and love into her heart, promises that had never reached her heart before.

  Chapter 16

  Blue refused to go to sleep, as he lay in Chloe's bed with her tucked in his arms. He knew damn well how to keep himself awake even when he was so tired that every cell in his brain was screaming at him to shut it down. He knew how to keep himself awake when his life depended on it, and he felt like that right now. He felt like if he missed a moment of feeling her body against his, and her soft breath against his throat, that his soul might simply deflate and disappear forever.

  He pressed his face to her hair, breathing deeply. He decided that he needed to start learning the names of flowers, so that he could learn to identify them and connect them with Chloe. "What's the scent of your shampoo?"

  "Mmm..." She mumbled sleepily. "I think it's eucalyptus."

  "I'm going to have to buy some."

  "Some of my shampoo?"

  "No. Eucalyptus."

  "You like the smell?"

  "I like that it reminds me of you. I'm going to need that when I leave here. I'm going to need some kind of reminder that there's beauty left in this world."

  Chloe stirred in his arms, and he felt her press a kiss to the inside of his wrist. Her back was against his chest, and his leg was over her hip, pulling her flush against him. He couldn't see her face, but he smiled when he felt her lips on his wrist. "I like that."

  "You have a lovely wrist." Her voice sounded sleepy, and he liked that as well. He liked that she felt content and safe enough to doze off in his arms.

  He spent his life saving other people, but somehow the fact that Chloe felt safe enough to sleep in his arms was exponentially more rewarding than every single other person that he'd rescued. There was something about her heart that touched him, that made it impossible for him to stay emotionally hard. He'd thought he liked to be hard. He'd thought it made it easier for him. He was sure it had, actually. At the same time, however, feeling the softness of Chloe against him, and breathing in her scent, and feeling the utter contentment of his muscles, was infinitely more beautiful than anything else he'd ever experienced.

  If he was a different guy, maybe he could've had a life of this. But he was damn glad that he'd gotten a few minutes of it. She made everything in his life make more sense. He understood more now why his parents and all of his family had been unable to look him in the eye after that day. The day that Brian had disappeared, they had lost this kind of connection with Brian, and they'd thought that it would never come back again. This is what he'd stolen from them with his inattentiveness to his brother. He understood that now in a way he never had before because of how deeply this moment was affecting him. If he thought that he'd have Chloe forever, and then he lost her, it would rip him apart. That's what had happened to his parents.

  He pressed a kiss to her hair and rested his cheek against hers, tightening his arms around her. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Thank you for showing me the depths of human emotion that exists."

  "The depths of human emotion?" She sounded amused, sleepily amused. "That sounds so clinical. This doesn't feel clinical."

  He smiled, snuggling deeper into the mattress. "What would you call it then?"

  "I would call it as close to love as anything I've ever experienced."

  Something warm settled in his chest at her words, and he went still, almost afraid to breathe or say anything. "Love?"

  She nodded, and he felt her finger tracing designs on his forearm. "My whole life, I wanted to be loved. I always wanted to feel like there was someone there who would always see my soul as beautiful, no matter what I did or said, no matter what else happened. I always wanted to know I could be as ugly and horrible as possible, and yet be certain that there was someone in the world who would never change their opinion of me, no matter what happened. Someone who saw beauty in me even when I couldn't see it. To me, that's love."

  Blue thought about that. "I like that," he said. "I've never really thought much about love. I just put my head down and go to work. But what you described is beautiful." He hesitated, uncertain about how much he wanted to say, or about how much he even wanted to acknowledge to himself. "I think…" He began carefully. "To have someone see beauty in you when you don't even see it in yourself, and don't even believe it's there, is an incredible gift. It changes the whole foundation of your world."

  "I agree." Her voice was soft, and he could hear the depth of emotion as she spoke. "Isn't it funny, that we both came to Birch Crossing from careers we've dedicated ourselves to, both of which were designed toward erasing the pain of the past? And yet when we got here, we realized that what we both needed was some glimpse of that thing called love, unconditional love?"

  He smiled, and pulled her tighter against him, his whole body sinking into the moment. He took a deep breath, his lungs expanding more than he was pretty sure they'd ever expanded in his life. A deep, penetrating sigh of relaxation and peace. "When I was fourteen, I was much too young to have any grasp of what love was. After my brother was kidnapped, love became a nonfactor for me. All I could see were the broken pieces left behind from my one moment of inattention. That's all I ever saw."

  "That's all I ever see, too, in my own life," Chloe said. "I see these kids, and I see me, broken."

  "Sweetheart," he said, brushing his lips over the side of her neck. "You're as far from broken as anyone could ever be. You have an amazing heart. You have a great sense of humor. Hell, you can even make me laugh, and that's no easy task. You spend your life trying to help kids have a different life than the one you had. How in the world do you think you're broken?"

  She was quiet for a moment, but he knew she was awake from the rhythm of her breathing. He smiled, resting his chin on her head. He felt like he had all the time in the world to wait for her answer. There was no pressure. There was just peacefulness, and easy exchange and dialogue that
just seemed to fit.

  After a while, she finally answered. "The reason I feel broken is because I don't think I really know how to ever have the family or the home that I always wanted. I was with my ex for so long, but never once did we have a moment like this. He was always traveling. I was always working. When we had sex, it was just sort of a duty, but there was never this kind of intimacy. I think I always knew that there was no love or connection, and I was okay with that. I think it made me feel safe. I'm not sure I would have been able to handle it if it was actually the kind of love or forever that I wanted, because then I would have been terrified of losing it. Does that make sense?"

  "Absolutely, but I don't think the fact that you chose something like that makes you broken. It was probably as much security as you'd ever found, and you were willing to hold onto it, rather than risk ending up with nothing." He was actually kind of impressed with that answer. He didn't generally consider himself particularly thoughtful about things like relationships in humanity, but Chloe seemed to bring out a side of him he hadn't seen in himself before.

  Chloe snuggled more deeply against him. "I like that. It makes me sound a little bit tough, like I was willing to handle fifty percent, even if it wasn't perfect. But, you know, you've now ruined it for me."

  He grinned. "Have I? Tell me more."

  He felt her smile, even though he couldn't see her face. "You know why," she said. "Now that we've had this amazing bonding moment, I'm not going to be able to go back to some cold, impassive, affection–phobic workaholic. I'm going to have to hold out for something that's built on this kind of moment."

  "Good."

  She looked over her shoulder at him, her brown eyes adorable as she wrinkled her nose at him. "You're happy you ruined my life? You're happy you've deprived me of mediocre relationships that are easy to find and not so challenging to endure? What kind of support and friendship is that?"

  He laughed, and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. "No, I'm not happy I ruined your life. But, I'm not going to lie, I'm happy that you're going to be stuck thinking of me for the rest of your life. It's that ego thing. I meet a cute girl who makes me laugh, she drags me out of my self-imposed isolation, and teaches me to appreciate flowers. She's going to be stuck in my head for the rest of my life. Every time I see a flower, I'm going to notice it now and think of her. If I'm going to be stuck with a new worldview, then I think it's fair that you are too. So yeah, I'm glad it's a mutual thing, this contamination of our brains for the rest of our lives."