olute despite the circling of her hips against my hand. “I got your letter. I know that this is more to you too.”
Fully inserting two fingers into her tight sheath, I watch her in fascination as her brown eyes roll back into her head behind the lids. I know this isn’t the time to question why she didn’t reply to my letter, but fuck my body needs answers. My body. My head. My heart.
“Why didn’t you write me back?” I groan, my own erection agonizing as it juts against the zipper of these pants that the costume designer is not going to want back.
Her clutch tightens around my arm, and I know that she’s close even if the rocking of her hips and tightening of her channel don’t give it away. “I did, Devyn. Oh, God,” she cries out in one quick breath before she detonates at my hand.
Larsen’s breasts press against the confines of her bra as she catches her breath. I slide my hand free from her panties and hover my body above hers, my arms caging her in.
“What did you say?”
It takes her a moment to come back into herself and then she’s peering up at me in confusion. “I. ..I wrote you a letter, not long after I received yours. I just. . .”
“You just what? Explain,” I ask, dropping from my full arms to rest on my elbows, bringing our noses and mouths within inches of each other.
“I went hiking with Cole and his friends. He kissed me and I felt like I had betrayed you, which is silly because we aren’t anything, but my heart ached. I wrote to you right after. I needed to tell you. I thought he was what I wanted, but then I met you and all that changed. I never heard anything back, so I just assumed you were over me. Then I got the plane tickets.” She shrugs as if that should clarify everything, and to her, it probably does, but it leaves me with more questions.
“I never got a letter.”
“Oh. Well, that explains why I never got a reply or a call,” she tries to joke.
“Tessa found the picture of you and Cole that he posted. I won’t lie. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to hate you. But I couldn’t.” Internal anguish swarms through me at the thought of that man putting his hands, his mouth on what’s mine. The agony is overwhelming, and I bend my head down, resting my forehead against hers. Then Larsen’s hand settles on my cheek, calming me instantly. My talisman.
My agreement from the other day swirls in my gut and I spew it forth without a second thought. “I’m in a fake relationship with Elena. It’s just for publicity for the movie.”
“Okay,” she whispers as if she understands the conundrum.
My head jerks upward. “You’re okay with it?”
She shakes her head, those strands of her beautiful blonde hair shimmering in the delicate afternoon sun. “We’re not together. You’re free to do what you want. I just want you while I can have you.”
Her confession shouldn’t feel like a dagger digging into my chest, puncturing my lungs, but the torture festers within.
“You’re mine, Larsen. I’m a selfish bastard.”
And a possessive asshole.
“Okay,” she agrees with an innocent smile.
“I’m going to hurt you. Fuck, I already know I’m going to hurt you. But I can’t stop this even if I tried.”
“You can’t break me more than I already am.”
Yeah, I can. Those tiny shards will turn to dust at my hand.
I want to tell her more, to say to her that she isn’t broken even though I know that a piece of her innocence was taken when she was left by her mother, but a ringing noise sounds near our heads.
“Oh,” she cries out, shimmying out of my hold and reaching for her bag.
Our moment is broken. I watch as she slips a sleek phone from her bag and begins typing out a message.
“That a cell phone?” I ask, remembering she didn’t have one when we met, hence the phone tag and letters.
“Yeah. Uncle Jeff kind of forced me to get one before I traveled here.”
At the mention of her uncle, the dagger wedged deep inside my central cavity twists again.
“Yeah? How is the old man?”