Page 57 of Wilting Violets

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That’s what had me sucking him hungrily, what sent one hand between my legs as my desire crawled up again with this act. I moved faster with my mouth, in tandem with me working myself between my legs.

His breathing got heavier, his strong thighs trembling as I worked him and myself relentlessly. I trailed my tongue along his length, languishing in the power I had, in the way his entire body was shaking.

Elden let out a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.

As I reached the apex of my own pleasure, he emptied himself into me, and I took all of it, all of him, greedily.

The second he was done, Elden didn’t hesitate to lift me off my knees, walking us both to my bed.

I promptly curled up against him, almost completely on top of him.

“Fuck, Violet,” he rasped, stroking my hair. “You’re my bad little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I breathed against his chest. “Yours.”

We fell asleep like that, tangled in each other, exhausted from what we’d done. What we’d started again.

What would never end between us.

ChapterEleven

“He isthe most precious thing I’ve ever held in my hands,” I whispered, looking at the closed eyelids of my sleeping brother.

He was still gripping my finger, even in the middle of his slumber.

He had slept everywhere but the bassinet the hospital provided. Most of the time he was in his father’s large, comfortable arms.

Swiss was in love with his son. His eyes gleamed with a fierce kind of love that showed me that my brother was protected, adored.

Swiss had the family he deserved.

My mom, propped up in her hospital bed, barely looking tired and glowing with happiness, had the family she deserved.

She had been relieved to see me arrive at the hospital in the late afternoon—Elden and I had been up at dawn to catch our flight, not speaking as we got ready in the morning—and the trip itself had been quiet.

It was strange to do something as benign as travel with him through an airport. Everyone stared at him. Because of the cut, maybe. But also because he was something to stare at. He was imposing in a way that had nothing to do with his muscles, the topaz gaze, strong jaw or even his badass goatee—one that had marked the inside of my thighs last night—and had eyes that anyone would ache to have land on you.

I’d scowled at the women shamelessly checking him out in the security line and I’d felt an irrational amount of anger that I couldn’t shout out that he was mine.

So, fueled by jealousy, I’d slipped my hand into his after we’d retrieved our bags from the x-ray belt. He didn’t have anything but a small duffle, and he refused to let me even roll my compact suitcase.

He’d frozen when my small hand slipped into his large one. My stomach twisted, preparing for his rejection. But instead of letting me go, he held me tight, pulling me in for a quick but firm kiss on the lips.

It was a thrill, like a rebellion to walk through that airport without our secrets, without pretending we weren’t something to each other. It felt right. No one stared at us … well, beyond the people who stared Elden. When I passed a mirror, I saw a bearded man with icy eyes and a Sons of Templar cut with a shorter woman, her eyes bright, hair pulled off her face. Though I wasn’t wearing any makeup, I didn’t look young, didn’t look like it was ridiculous for us to be together.

We fit.

Until we didn’t.

Until Elden subtly but purposefully created distance when we landed in New Mexico.

It stung. Burned. Even though I knew it was the right choice.

I pushed it to the back of my mind when I made it to the hospital, when I told everyone half truths about where I’d been, what I’d been doing. I had been studying. Then I had been drinking at a bar without cell service. Then I went home to sleep before flying here.

I told my mother all of this, not having to make eye contact because I was too busy falling in love with my brother. Neither my mother nor Swiss had any inkling I was lying because they were both tired and distracted by their world growing bigger and more beautiful.

“I want to hold him forever,” I whispered, rocking him gently.


Tags: Anne Malcom Romance