He kissed me.
He clutched me close and kissed me deep, shutting me up, telling me he trusted me, assuring me he was okay.
I crumpled in his arms, submitting entirely to his hot mouth and skilful tongue.
His fingers slid into my hair, cradling me as he bowed over me, tucking me into him, doing his best to join us together in all the right ways.
On and on, we kissed.
Heads dancing.
Tongues licking.
Hearts racing.
Ren had always been a masterful kisser, but something was different about this one. Something new and honest and true.
He held nothing back.
He tasted me and let me taste him.
He commanded possession and let me possess in return.
And the entire time we kissed, I didn’t tell him what else I remembered.
How, when he was eighteen, I knew he dreamed of someone he wanted because he’d cry out in his sleep, waking me to see his young face straining with want and misery.
How, when he was nineteen, I knew he pleasured himself in the dark once our beds were separated and we could no longer touch, and I’d hear his soft groan as he came—the same groan I now recognised as a woman.
Ren had kept everything he was going through a secret from me, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t aware.
He was a boy.
He was human.
He was perfect.
My lips tingled from his as I reached for his undone waistband.
He shook his head, rubbing our lips together. “No—”
“Yes.”
His heart pounded harder as I pushed the material down. His face drained of colour as I broke our kiss and looked between us. There, on the bare flesh of his hipbone, with his boxers and jeans pushed low enough to reveal the splattering of hair but not enough to reveal his cock, was his brand.
The same brand I’d kissed before, licked before, pressed my cheek to and cursed my parents for what they’d done to him, all while thanking them because, in a way, they’d bought him for me.
Time had used them, too.
Time had ensured they brought us together.
The oval brand with its Mc97 glinted cruelly in the light. Running my fingertip over the scar tissue, I whispered, “This room is nothing more than a room. The only thing that means anything is you and me.” My fingers drifted to the dark warmth of his underwear, ducking down and fisting his hard length. “You can touch me, Ren. You can kiss me. There’s nothing stopping us. I want you to touch me. I need it…and I think you need it, too.”
He shuddered again, his breath short and fast, eyes wild and black. “You’re pushing me too far, Della Ribbon. I don’t know how much longer I can keep saying no.”
“Good because I want you to say yes.”
“But it’s not right.”
“It is.”
“I can’t stop thinking, ah—”
I squeezed him, making his head tip back, revealing a long, powerful throat with its five o’clock shadow and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. With his eyes closed, he strangled, “But I nursed you when you had chicken pox in that very bed. I sat in that chair as you learned about sex, and I hid just how much I didn’t know. I watched you sleep when you were still a kid. I had dreams that—”
“None of that matters now.” Pushing firmly, I backed him toward the single bed that used to be his. The one with black sheets and no colour. The one I’d curled into, when he wasn’t looking, to smell his pillow.
He tripped backward, his jeans slipping to half-thigh. Landing on his ass, he snapped out of whatever trance I’d put him in and shook his head. “No.” Standing up again, he begged, “Let’s go rent a room somewhere. Or pitch the tent. Somewhere it’s just us. I want you, Della. And you’re right, I need you. But…this place is too much.”
“Please, Ren.” Colliding with him, I dug my fingers into his hair and wrenched his mouth back down to mine. “Please.” I kept my fingers lashed in the soft copper strands, piercing my tongue into his mouth.
And finally…he snapped.
His hands clamped on my ass, hoisting me up with impressive strength and encouraging my legs to wrap around his hips.
The moment I latched on, he moved until he slammed me against the wall. My spine bruised as he wedged me tight, rocking into me, his lips harsh and dominating as the kiss I’d given him turned into one of crushing need from him.
His hands trailed upward, squeezing my breasts before cupping my cheeks and holding me steady.
And then he kissed me.
Truly, deeply, deliciously kissed me.
His mouth opened wide, his tongue dancing with mine, our heads shifting and breaths hitching as he consumed my every thought.
“You just had to push, didn’t you?” He nipped my lip, biting and licking his way down my jaw to my throat. There, he sank sharp incisors into my flesh, making me cry out and claw at his shoulders. “Had to make me do this. Had to make me accept.”