It spoke the words he couldn’t say out loud.
Revealed his soul in ways nothing else could.
My beautifully broken man had so much love to give and when he lavished it upon me in this way, I sent out prayers of thanks that I’d found him.
When he’d finished with my breasts, he undid my bra and removed it. His hands skimmed down my sides, over my hips and rested on my thighs for a moment. Looking up at me, he said, “I’ve struggled to think of anything but you today, sweetheart. Do you have any idea what you do to me? Any clue how wrapped up in you I am?” His husky voice spread goose bumps over my skin. Or perhaps it was his words that caused that.
I took hold of his face with both hands and kissed him. Long and deep. And then I answered him. “I think I have an idea of how you feel because I feel the same way, Donovan. It’s like you’re stalking my mind, always there in everything I do. And I spend every hour counting down the minutes until I get to see you again.”
His gaze had me trapped and he didn’t let me go. Those dark eyes of his reached inside, communicating wordless needs and desires to me. There were no words to describe the energy flowing between us in this moment; all we needed to do was feel.
“Fuck,” he growled as he stood. His movements were swift as he lifted me with him.
A moment later, he had me on my back on the bed while he positioned himself over me. Staring down at me, he said, “It’s going to be a long night, baby.” And before I could even form a thought in response to that, he thrust his cock inside me, and I realised my slow and gentle man was gone, and my hard and fast man had returned.
And I clung on for dear life.
His grunts filled the room, arousing me, his pace almost exhausting me. When we finally came, we came so hard I thought he might shatter me.
I continued to cling on to him.
I never wanted to let him go because even though he had the power to break me apart, I knew that wrapped in his embrace was where I needed to be.
Safe.
Protected.
Loved.
He held me for what felt a very long time before letting me go and pulling out of me. “You okay, baby?” he asked, his eyes tender – the complete opposite of the way he just fucked me.
I smiled. “Yeah, you just sent me somewhere though.” I wasn’t sure if he would understand, but I should have given him more credit. For his rough exterior and hard ways, Donovan was a deep man and felt things on a level that I’d never known another man to feel.
“I went there, too,” he admitted as he rolled onto his back. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he said, “Fuck, it’s been one of those days actually.”
Shifting on to my side, I propped myself up on my elbow and placed a hand on his chest. “Tell me,” I encouraged him softly.
His eyes found mine again and I saw the turmoil lurking, as it often was. His father still troubled him - Marcus’s ghost haunted him most days. And as much as he tried to deal with that in his own way, and avoided talking about it, some days it got too much for him and the only reprieve he could find was through discussing it with me. “I can’t get him out of my head. It’s like he’s lodged in my brain, always taunting me. Still giving me hell from the grave.”
“Why?” I had an idea but I wasn’t sure if I was on the right track so I needed to hear him say it before I gave him my thoughts.
A frown lined his forehead. “Baby, if I knew why, I could fix it and move the fuck on.”
“Donovan, a person only has power like that over us if we let them. And a dead person? That’s a lot of power for someone not even around anymore to have, so this is coming from you. What’s going on in that head of yours that’s allowing you to give your father that power?”
He stared at me, his eyes almost vacant, and I knew that meant he was thinking hard about what I’d said. Finally, he spoke. “I feel guilty. I’m watching my mother move on with her life, happier than I’ve ever seen her, finally putting herself first, and I feel fucking guilty that I didn’t take care of him sooner. I should have done more for her. I should have been there more for her and protected her better. I hate him for what he did to us and for what he did to his other family. And then, I watch Storm dealing with the fallout of his death and I feel guilty that I put them there.” He pushed up off the bed and stood. Shoving his hand through his hair, he blew out a long breath. “Either way I look at this, I fucked up.”
His words made my heart ache but I was glad he’d searched deep and found them. I left the bed and joined him. “You’re consumed with hate and guilt, and until you come to terms with those, he’s not going to leave you alone. You’re too damn hard on yourself. You take on and carry all this responsibility for those you love but it’s only hurting you. And they don’t want to see you hurting anymore so you’ve got to find a way to let it all go.”
His body was so tense, so tightly wound as he stood listening to what I said. “How do I do that, Layla? I’ve been looking out for people my entire life . . . I don’t know how to stop, and fuck, I don’t know if I want to stop. I need to know they’re okay.”
I gave him a smile. “You don’t have to stop looking out for them, Donovan. You just need to realise that not everything is going to go your way or their way.” I paused, and then added softly, “And you need to forgive yourself. The bad things that happen to the people you love are not your fault. You can’t control everything so don’t beat yourself up over that stuff.”
He took all that in but I knew it would take him a lot more than simply hearing what I’d said to act on it. All I could hope was that he would process it and, in time, find a healthy way to deal with it. Until then, I’d be here for him every step of the way, loving him and doing my best to soothe his pain.
Pulling me to him, he put his arms around me and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Thank Christ I
have you,” he murmured and then pulled back a little so he could see my eyes. “Promise me you’ll stick around, even if my shit gets too much.”