Tears burn my eyes for the briefest of moments, and I let them fall. All the pain I felt for this man and his daughter the day I cried, sitting on the edge of his bed, comes rushing back. I cry once again for them, but even as I feel so terrible for them, I cry for myself as well because it hits me as his chest rises and falls against mine that I’ve fallen in love with a broody man who can never love me back.
I try to step away, needing some distance between myself and those emotions, but he clings to me.
A few seconds later, a shuddering sob escapes his lips, and he holds me tighter.
I have to wonder if this is the first time he’s lost it like this, because even though I don’t know much, I know Cerberus men and women aren’t really the type to show these kinds of emotions freely. They don’t hesitate to show their partners how much they love and desire them, but breaking down in front of people doesn’t seem like their thing.
I hold him, and he holds me back for long moments before he pulls back. He doesn’t step away, just creates enough distance between the two of us for him to look down at me. The man looks wrecked, his eyes red and swollen with tears staining his cheeks. He also looks as vulnerable as I feel.
He leans closer, his mouth brushing mine with a softness he’s never shown before. Our first two kisses have been a brutal taking of my mouth. He pulls back, blinking down at me, giving me the chance to tell him no. I can’t. I want this as much as he seems to want it.
“Please,” he whispers as my towel unwraps and drops to the floor.
He pulls the strap of my bikini over the edge of my shoulder, his hot, slick mouth following the path.
“Don’t stop,” I pant, knowing exactly what he’s begging for.
Gooseflesh covers my skin, and I know it has more to do with the attention he’s giving me than the cool air hitting my still damp bathing suit.
It doesn’t take long for the two piece to join the towel on the floor, and he seems just as desperate as I feel when I lift the hem of his shirt. He pulls it over his head as I press my lips to the center of his chest before reaching for the buckle of his jeans.
I can’t seem to get my fumbling fingers to work, but he doesn’t hesitate to press his mouth to mine once again as he not only opens his belt but also the button on his jeans and then his zipper. The rasp of it fills the room, sending a jolt of electricity through every inch of me. I’m charged and desperate for him as he shoves his jeans down. When he lifts me in his arms and my legs go around his waist as best I can manage with our size differences, I moan in relief as the hot, thick length of him brushes my center.
“Shit,” he pants as he lowers me to the bed, not leaving an inch between our bodies.
His eyes are closed as he rolls his hips back before rolling them forward. Without even having to use his hand for guidance, the man finds exactly what he’s searching for, and I hiss when he presses forward. I’m ready for him, but even the slickness of my desire doesn’t seem like enough to prepare me for taking so much of him so quickly.
I scratch at his back, wondering how it hurts and feels like the best thing in the world at the same time. He still hasn’t opened his eyes, still hasn’t looked down at me to see if I’m okay, and it makes the tears I’d cried earlier renew. It’s an emotional pain, I realize as he pulls back slowly and snaps his hips forward in a calculated rush.
The sex feels amazing. I’d never deny that it does, but the connection I thought I felt earlier when looking in his eyes is now absent.
He’s enjoying the feeling. At least I think he is as his teeth dig into his bottom lip.
“Jesus,” he moans, rolling his hips on the inward thrust.
I whimper in desperation, needing to find my release. I fight for that orgasm, needing desperately to get something out of this because he’s never going to be able to give me anything more than a physical connection.
But I’m too worried about what happens after, knowing he’s going to pull away. He told me he’d regret it. He said those exact words earlier today, and I’m the lovesick fool who thought something like this could change it. Having sex with someone, hoping they won’t regret it when they have already said they would, is a fool’s errand.