“I’ve always been yours, Wraith.” She traces her finger along my lower lip, and I hitch in a breath at her tender touch. “One of the reasons it didn’t feel right to be with someone else was because I left my heart with you.”
19
Wraith
“All in or all out, runt. Last chance.”
Wraith’s warning is a vibration against my bones. I ran once, and that mistake cost us nearly a decade, and so much more. There’s a reckoning waiting for me—but not tonight. Tonight, I shove guilt aside because I’m selfish, and I need this after a lifetime of emptiness.
“No more running, Wraith. I’m all in.”
“Thank fucking God.”
The words are a growl that come a breath before his lips crash down on mine. His kiss is a brand on my soul, forcing my mouth open to allow his tongue to sweep past my teeth. I breathe him in as he dominates me, obliterating every insecurity that’s lived in my mind since the first time my father’s anger left a mark on my body.
My entire being hums with life and radiates with heat as his hands roam over me. He explores every hill and valley, leaving no part of me untouched. But I want more.Cravemore. Skin to skin. I need his strength so I can let go of mine. So I can be free, because with Wraith, I’ll always be safe.
I tear my mouth from his and catch the bottom of his shirt. “Take this off.”
“Look at you, being bossy.” He laughs as he tugs the shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor.
Wraith shirtless is a danger to my equilibrium—and no, it has nothing to do with the two shots I did earlier. The complete debacle with Jester slammed me into sobriety. Well, not completely, but enough to move me out of the realm of drunk. More like there’s a lingering relaxation of my inhibitions. Or it could be from what Wraith’s doing with his mouth. The man seems to have way of lifting the burden of a lifetime’s worth of baggage when it comes to my body’s imperfections. And with him teasing feathery kisses along my collarbone, it’s difficult to remember exactly why I’m supposed to be embarrassed around him. But when he moves lower, the spell his mouth is weaving breaks.
I stiffen. “I’m scared.”
Wraith doesn’t lift his lips from my skin. “No shit.”
“I’ll be okay,” I assure myself.
“I know. You’re with me.”
Arrogant much?
But his words ease the tension out of my muscles. I breathe out on a sigh and scrape my hands up his spine, over the ridges of his back. In spite of the scarring, or maybe because of it, he’s a work of art. All taut flesh stretched over hard muscle. He is raw power and aggression. There’s a ferocity in his eyes as he studies me while his fingers work the front hook of my lacy new bra. A silent challenge. One I have no intention of backing down from. I catch the inside of my cheek and hold his gaze, my breathing erratic as I struggle not to come undone from nerves in his arms.
I understand the mechanics of sex, obviously, but there’s a world of difference between knowing what goes where and putting it together and actually doing it. What if I’m bad? Or worse, boring? It’s a fact that Wraith is a man-whore. He has tons of experience to compare me to, and I know I’m going to be lacking in this department. My hope is that I will at least not be so terrible at it that he won’t want to come back for seconds.
But when Wraith unlatches my bra and peers down at me as if he’s etching me into every part of his brain, it’s easy to let go of doubt. Just let it fall away. His gaze misses nothing, and under his slow assessment, I swear to God, I’ve never felt more beautiful.
More alive.
“We should’ve done this eight years ago.”
I shake my head, remembering myself as a fractured teenager. “Back then, I was too broken.”
“Nah. I would have held you together.”
Yes, he would have. I would have never survived the years apart if it hadn’t been for the nine months we spent sitting under our tree.
Wraith’s mouth is hot and demanding. He swirls his tongue around my nipples, sucking and pulling at my breasts until I’m panting his name, losing what fragile hold I have on my control. But he doesn’t linger long before continuing a path down my torso. When he reaches his destination between my legs, he glides a finger along the waistband of my panties, his lips curling into a devious grin.
“Cute.”
“I gave Bertha the night off.”
He chokes out a laugh. “You named your underwear?”
“When they’re as sturdy as her, they’ve earned the respect of a name.”
