I swallow hard. Her fruity scent fans all around me and all I want to do is roll over and have my way with her. Remind her how good we are together. How perfectly we fit.
Chapter Three
In the dark of the night my pulse races through my veins. Heart beating a million beats a minute. Fisher lays next to me. There’s barely five inches separating us. Him in his charcoal grey boxer briefs. Me in my sky-blue snowflake print pajama pants and a thin white tank. I’m torn between pulling him closer and pushing him further away.
He’s not the man I wish were laying at my side. Guilt coats me, clinging to me like a second skin. I’m using Fisher because I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to face the truth. That I have no place in Death’s life despite the promises he made. We might as well be worlds apart.
Fisher is here saying all the right things. All the things I’ve desperately longed to hear. He chooses me. Wants to put me first. I’ve never been first pick. Not before now. I roll to my side, facing him as he lays on his back, staring at the ceiling.
“You good?”
“Not used to the silence.”
“What was it like…I mean for you.”
“Loud. Scary as fuck. Never knowing when my protection would run out. Never knowing when politics and power would exchange hands. Seen and heard a lot of fucked up shit. Things you can’t even imagine. People murdered in pure cold blood over the dumbest shit. Hearing grown ass men cry out while being raped. Place was fucking horrible. Only thing that kept me sane was the thought of you. One day being right here. Lying next to you. Breathing your same air.”
“Fisher,” I croak. “I’m sorry I didn’t read your letters. I kept them. I just…I had to pretend you didn’t exist.” I hate knowing he’s suffered. My thoughts are all jumbled.
“Coped the best you could, babe. Can’t begrudge you that.” He laces his fingers through mine, bringing my knuckles to his lips.
Why is he being so sweet? I can’t take it. Maybe it’s the guilt eating at me because I know that my sleeping with Death is a betrayal. Club brothers aren’t supposed to fuck another brother’s ol’ lady. Fisher and I weren’t married but we were close enough to getting there.
We lived as though we were husband and wife. Only there were no rings or a piece of paper stating as much.
I roll deeper into his side, pressing my skin to his, wondering if this is where I’m meant to be. If everything happens for a reason—is this fate? I kiss his shoulder and his gaze cuts to mine. The tension between us crackles.
“Did anyone…did they hurt you?” I word my question as delicately as I can.
“No one fucked me physically if that’s what you want to know.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Can ask me anything you want. Only action I’ve had is my hand.”
“So, if you didn’t fuck April, I was the last.”
“Babe. I’m about three seconds from nutting simply from you pressing up on me. Moment I kissed you my fucking dick started leaking. He’s practically crying to be inside you.”
I don’t know why knowing this information turns me on, but it does. I slide a hand over his abs, scratching my nails over his skin. A hiss passes through his lips as my fingers trail lower.
“Fuck, Freya. Shit,” he growls and rolls over, pinning me to the mattress.
He stares down at me with raw hunger in his eyes. Primal need takes over. His tongue rams down my throat as he tears at my clothes. I don’t stop him though deep down I know I should. I give into Fisher. I give him another piece of me. A piece of me I didn’t know survived losing him.
It’s been three years, but our bodies aren’t strangers.
Neither are our hearts.
Fisher jerks my pants down my thighs, leaving them wrapped around my ankles.
“Fuck, I need inside you.” He groans.
“Fuck me, Fisher,” I plead, praying he forces me to forget all about Death.
He jerks my top up and latches his mouth to one of my nipples, sucking the pebbled skin till it hardens. His hands roam my body, rediscovering all the places that have longed for this. My body hasn’t forgotten Fisher despite how hard I’ve tried to.
I kick my pajama pants off impatiently.