“It was another loss for you,” said Blair, an ache in her voice that matched the one in his chest.
“Another moment of sheer helplessness. Another time in which someone important to me was suffering and I could do nothing to help. And not having my mom there afterward to hug me and tell me everything would be fine forced me to accept that she was gone.” Luke paused as pure feminine despair zipped up their bond. “We can stop here. I can tell you the rest another time.”
She shook her head. “No, get it all out.”
Half-wishing she’d asked him to stop, he nonetheless went on, “I didn’t really grieve the way I should have. I was conscious of how hard it was for my dad to cope without her that I thought it best if he didn’t need to deal with my pain on top of his own. And I think part of me felt that, after what I’d said to her before she died, I didn’t feel I had the right to grieve anyway.”
“So everything just built up inside you—anger, hurt, guilt, shame—and never found a way out,” she understood.
“I ventured into an emotional dark place I didn’t know existed. There was this sheet of ice between me and the world. An emptiness. A thick fog. An ever-present mental storm that dragged me under.”
“Sounds a little like depression.”
“Whatever it was, it reached a point when I even felt a sense of detachment from my cat. Everyone thought that I was fine, because I made sure I seemed fine. Only a few people sensed I was having issues—Tate, Deke, Elle, and later my dad. For a while, he was caught up in his own pain so he didn’t sense mine.
“They tried to help, but they couldn’t. No one could. I was lost. Until you.” Luke palmed her face, sweeping his thumb over her cheekbone. “I saw you, and everything changed in an instant. The ice fractured. The fog around me lifted. The emptiness faded. The mental storm calmed. You were a light that pierced the endless blackness—a light I followed like a beacon that showed me the way out.”
At that point, he’d had to confront the anger, guilt, and shame he’d buried deep. It had been hard, but he’d done it, determined to never emotionally check out on his mate. Those dark emotions still lived inside him, but they were no longer a hum in his blood. Instead, they were small, weak, flickering flames in his belly.
Sometimes those flames flared up, which was why … “The mental storm I mentioned occasionally begins to build. But you always quash it in time. You’re what stands between me and that dark, empty place. It’s a hell of a weight for you to carry—I know that. I wish it wasn’t so.”
She frowned and jabbed his chest with her finger—the last thing he’d expected. “It’s not a weight, it’s a privilege,” she said. “You’ve been my shield all these years. It was never a burden, right? You were glad to be whatever I needed. Well, same goes.”
His heart squeezed. Shit, she got to him. Like nothing and no one else ever had.
He dropped his forehead to hers, dragging a breath into his lungs, drowning in her scent. Needing her taste, he closed his mouth over hers, swallowing her little gasp.
Arousal thickened his blood, but he didn’t roughly dominate her mouth. He sipped. Savored. Gently feasted. Poured everything of himself into it.
They touched, stroked, teased, explored. Then he was inside her. Each thrust was soft and lazy and exquisitely sensuous. They tumbled over the edge together, her pussy spasming as harsh blasts of come erupted out of his cock. Peace once more stole over him.
Shuddering from aftershocks, he buried his face in her neck, enjoying the feel of her fingers ghosting over his back.
“Thank you for sharing all that with me,” she said.
He pressed a kiss to her throat and then lifted his gaze to hers. “Thank you for telling me about your sister.”
“And thank you for making me come really, really hard.”
He felt his lips quirk. “I aim to please.”
“Hmm, well, I’ll do the pleasing in the morning. Right now, I need sleep.”
“You’ll do the pleasing?” he asked, intrigued. “What does that mean?”
She gave him a mysterious smile. “You’ll find out when you wake up, won’t you?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A handful of her hair bunched in his fist, Luke watched as his mate swallowed his cock over and over. He’d woken to the feel of her tongue lapping and swiping along his shaft. Once she’d been sure he was fully awake, she’d taken him in her mouth.
He’d spent the past ten or so minutes battling back the orgasm that was hot on his heels. He was losing that battle. The heat of her breath, the tight suction of her mouth, the little hums she let out, the rasp of her tongue against each ridge and vein … There was only so much he could take.