Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chloe
I looked up at Lachlan’s beloved face, so sincere, and raised my hand, tracing his cheekbone with the tips of my fingers.
His eyes were so blue and warm. He was looking at me as if I were the only other person in the world.
“What if you regret it?” I asked him, forcing myself to voice my deepest fears. “It’s forever, Lach. You’ll never be free of me.”
His eyes closed at my words, as though they hurt him. When he lifted his lashes, my breath caught at the raw emotion in his gaze.
“There is nothing to regret, Chloe. Not unless you don’t want me.”
My throat constricted at his words. Of course I wanted him. I wanted to hold on to him and never let him go.
“I—” I stopped and licked my lips, gathering my thoughts. “I do want you,” I whispered. “I have since…” I trailed off.
“Since when?” he pressed.
“Since I realized you were my mate,” I replied, so softly that I was surprised he could hear me.
“When did you know?” he asked, smoothing back the strands of hair that had come loose from my ponytail.
I couldn’t meet his eyes any longer. It was too difficult to bare myself so completely. “Not long after Belinda died.” My words fell between us and I felt him go completely still on top of me. The only movement in his body was the beating of his heart. He wasn’t even breathing.
I forced myself to continue. “You were so…broken. I wanted to heal you.” My breath hitched. “If I could have brought her back, I would have. I hated to see you in so much pain.”
I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and cursed myself inwardly. I’d cried more in the last few weeks than I had my entire life.
“So that’s why you stayed,” he breathed.
“Yes.”
His thumb traced the trail of dampness the tear left behind. “That’s also why you left, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I answered. “You were finally getting stronger. You didn’t need me anymore and it—” I couldn’t continue because my throat convulsed. I swallowed hard, forcing back more tears.
“It hurt,” he finished.
My throat wouldn’t loosen enough for me to speak so I nodded my head.
“Chloe, look at me.”
“Lachlan,” I began.
“You call me Ian when we’re in bed together, Chloe. You have since the beginning.”
My eye opened at the thread of steel in his voice and my gaze collided with his. Though he didn’t look angry, there was a resolve in his eyes, as though he’d made up his mind about something.
“Ian,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry, Chloe,” he apologized. “I’m sorry that I put you through that.”
My hands squeezed his shoulders reflexively. “Why should you be sorry?”
His lips brushed my forehead. “Because I learned over the last three days that there’s no pain like the one you feel when you watch your mate suffer. And you bore that in silence for nearly two years. For that, I am sorry.”
My heart thumped against my breastbone, one hard bump. “I would do it again because you needed me,” I replied.
“Jesus, Chloe,” he said, his voice rough, before he kissed me again. “I can’t let you walk away now. Not after this.”
I couldn’t breathe as his mouth found mine once more.
When he lifted his head, he said, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing to make up, Ian. I wanted to do it.”
“Then you have to stay with me,” he insisted. “Because I still need you. I’ll always need you.”
I looked up at him, seeing everything I’d ever wanted wrapped up inside him. Love, warmth, family. He was offering it all to me.
“Make me yours,” I said, curving my hand around the back of his neck. “Now.”
He kissed me again, giving into my urging touch. As our mouths opened, our tongues tangling and tasting, his hands moved to the hem of my t-shirt, lifting it over my head. Beneath it I wore a simple cotton tank that disguised the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra. It followed my t-shirt to the floor.
My own hands were busy, diving under the hem of his tee as well. He reached over his head, his hand grasping the material between his shoulder blades and pulled it off.
My flip-flops had fallen from my feet when he laid me on the bed, but he released my mouth and straightened, tugging my leggings and underwear down my thighs, over my calves, until I lay bare before him.
He rose to stand at the end of the bed, unbuckling his belt. I watched as he kicked off his boots and socks and shoved the jeans off. When he rejoined me on the bed, we were naked, our bodies twined together skin-to-skin. He barely took his eyes from my face as his hand roved over my body, trailing over the pink scar tissue on my side, down over my belly button, and from hipbone to hipbone.
I laid my hand flat on his back, smoothing it over his skin. My fingertips brushed the bumps of his spine and I felt the flex and bunch of his muscles beneath my palm. He was warm and heavy, his body enveloping me.
When his fingers dipped between my legs, I gasped and arched my back. The sharp hunger I felt for him was insistent as though it had been months rather than days since he’d last touched me.
“Ian,” I breathed.
He smiled before he kissed me again, his finger circling my clit. As my hips began to move, his mouth moved down my neck, the tip of his tongue light against my skin.
Then his mouth captured my nipple and I gasped again. His lips tugged and sucked at my breasts as his hand continued to move between my legs, his fingers toying with my clit before they slid deep inside me.
“I want you inside me, Ian,” I demanded, my nails digging into the flesh of his spine.
“I am inside you,” he whispered against my skin.
I shivered at the sensation of his voice vibrating against my breasts. “That’s not the part of you I’m talking about.”
I felt his smile and retaliated by dragging my fingernails over his back in the way that I knew drove him crazy.
He groaned and removed his fingers from my body. Moving over me, he reached between us and guided his cock to my entrance. I lifted my legs, my thighs hugging his hips, as he slid inside.
He stilled when he was fully seated in my body. “There, I’m inside you.”
I growled at him. “Move, Ian.”
He pressed his hips tighter to mine. “Say please.”
I shook my head, resisting even though I wanted to give in. My pussy clenched hard as he nudged a place inside me that made my nerve endings spark. It was enough to crack my resolve. “Please, Ian.”
He withdrew and thrust again, his movements slow and deliberate. He set a languid rhythm that felt good but wouldn’t bring my body to the clamoring release it ached for.
“Ian, faster,” I urged.
“No,” he replied.
My nails dug into his ass as I pulled his hips toward mine, pushing him to move more quickly. “Yes,” I hissed.
“Your injury is still healing,” he argued.
“You’re the one who’s about to be injured if you don’t stop teasing me!” I growled.
He chuckled, his hips moving at a faster pace, but it still wasn’t enough. When I snarled at him, his chuckle turned into full-fledged laughter. He lifted me, turning us so that his back rested against the wall. With one hand supporting my spine, his other splayed across my lower belly putting his thumb in just the right position to roll against my clit.
I leaned into the hand on my back, giving him room to maneuver as I rose and fell against him. As the orgasm swelled within me, he pulled me up and gripped my ponytail in his hand.
When the first wave crashed into me and I cried out, he sank his teeth into my shoulder exactly where his mark had been before. This time I didn’t fight the urge. I turned my face into his neck and latched on.
He groaned against my skin and I knew he was coming. Together we rode out the orgasm, our bodies crashing together as it seemed to continue on and on. When it finally ebbed, something clicked within me, a void in my heart that was no longer empty. I lifted my mouth from his shoulder and ran my tongue over the mark I’d left behind. I felt Lachlan do the same. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to the bite.
“Now you’re mine,” he murmured. “And I’m yours.”
“Always,” I replied.