“I really need you inside me right now.” And this time when he lifts me, I catch his shoulders as he presses inside me, and I pant with the sensation of him sliding deep while I ease down the length of him. My lashes lower, my entire body vibrating with the intensity of what I feel right now that is far from just physical. He is a part of me, and I was incomplete without him.
He is my person and I don’t even want to think about how I reconcile that with what is between us. I just want him. Now. Right now.
“God, I missed this,” he murmurs, kissing my neck and then cupping my face, and tilting my gaze to his. “So damn badly, Ana.” His voice is aroused, emotional, the rough baritone intoxicating.
His hand presses to the center of my shoulder blades, molding my breasts to his chest, his mouth coming down on mine as he lifts his hips, and I arch into the movement, moaning against his mouth. We are no longer two people torn apart by life and death, but rather two people holding onto it in each other’s arms. The air pulses with our need for one another.
If the music is still playing, I don’t hear it—there is the thundering of my heartbeat, the heaviness of our breathing. We rock together, slow and sultry, savoring every moment, his eyes and hands all over me, mine all over him.
But there is a shift between us, a building need between us that is tangible, combustible.
We’re moving faster, each meeting of our bodies a thrust and grind. Neither of us are in control now. My fingers tangle in his hair. His catch my nipples, creating a delicious ache in my breasts, in my body. I’m on the edge again, and I desperately don’t want to tumble, not yet. I catch his hand, try to slow down, but I can’t stop what is already roaring between us, the friction that is our bodies burning for more.
My release rushes over me, out of my control, my sex clenches around him. I bury my face in his neck as my body trembles, shakes. He groans with the impact, pulling me down against him as he lifts his hips and shudders into orgasm. I fade into the sweet release, the ultimate pleasure, but it’s inevitable that it must end. I become aware of the music and the room, of his arm wrapped around me a little too tightly, as if he really does believe I will run away. I don’t want to run. In fact, I hold onto him, too, trying to beat back reality.
But accepting it is another thing that is inevitable.
The fine line between love and hate between us is real.
The reason we fell apart still exists.
And my confusion over wanting him, hating him, loving him, is just as real.
I don’t know how to fix us. We’re still broken.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
LUCIFER
When I want to hold onto Ana, she is quick to slide off of me, grabbing a tissue which is expected until she says, “Bathroom.”
Which is also a thing. She goes to the bathroom after sex. Don’t most women? But she doesn’t look at me. She also grabs her clothes on the way out of the room, which has me focusing on all of the tension in her spine, not her perfect ass. She enters the bathroom and doesn’t shut the door, and yet, a shut door is exactly what I’m feeling right now.
I sit there, seconds ticking by that turn into even more seconds, and then more, waiting on her to return.
Maybe I pushed her too hard, considering all that is between us right now.
But damn it, I needed to know she’s all in, I needed to know that she’s willing to give herself to me again, to trust me.
The truth is that when I met her, I was a man with a history, a man I didn’t want her to ever know, and yet, I couldn’t resist getting to know her. She was Kurt’s stepdaughter. She knew my world. She knew my nickname, my job, and my past added up to more than how I flew a jet. She demanded the truth from me, extracted all the good and bad parts of me. She knew everything about me.
And she accepted me.
She loved me.
Now, maybe not so much.
The shower turns on, which feels like avoidance. No. Not happening. She will not hide from me. I stand up and I don’t bother with my clothes. Sure enough, I find her in the shower. I open the door and join her, pulling her to me.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She folds her arms in front of her, almost shyly. Ana is not shy. “I just needed the hot water,” she adds.
“What’s going on?” I repeat, guiding her out of the flow of water and against the wall.