Della

Della had her out. It should have been easy. He gave her the opportunity to tell him that she was done. That she wanted to leave. That she didn’t want him. Thomas laid it all on the line. Himself. Their life.

She should have taken that option. The easy way out. But she couldn’t.

I’m sorry Evie. I can’t do it. I just can’t do it. She’d imagined this for years. Closing her hands around Tommy’s neck, caressing his shoulders, the hard planes, and masculine ridges, the tenderness of his lips on hers… she hadn’t let herself get beyond it. It was wrong. It was always wrong.

It still was now, especially now, but she couldn’t stop herself. There was no longer any holding back or denying herself.

He needed this. And so did she.

Thomas’ dark eyes stared straight into hers. He looked through her, saw straight into her soul. “He said it wasn’t my fault.” He coughed loudly to clear his throat. He leaned against the front door and closed his eyes. “But it was. It was my fault that I wasn’t the man you needed. I went away… I went away for such a long time.”

“You’re wrong,” Della whispered. Her traitorous feet carried her forward, closer to that closed door and the man who leaned so heavily against it. “You may have gone away, but you’re here now.” She closed the distance between them with a final step. She leaned in until Tommy’s breath was warm against her cheek. She found his ear, the good side of his face and forced out words she should never have spoken. “You’re here now and so am I.”

He moved, the action happening as though in slow motion. He turned his face and his lips met hers, hot, hungry, searing, sipping and tasting, nipping, biting, furious and infinitely gentle all at once. His hands came up to frame her face, the hand that felt everything and the hand the fire had deadened. They touched her the same. Caressed her cheek, warm, soft and ragged in turns, but utterly alive.

She came alive under his fevered touch. Her body burned as the rawness of her hunger overcame her.

Just for right now, he’s mine. He’s mine to love and care for and prove that he’s still beautiful.

He kissed her breath right out of her lungs, swallowed the whimpers drawn from her throat. His lips were alive on hers, claiming, teaching, awakening. She answered every single movement with one of her own, deepening the kiss, her tongue sweeping into his mouth and tasting him, stroking him.

God, she wanted to stroke him everywhere else. To touch the parts of him that as his fiancé, she had a right to.

His hand moved away from her cheek, shifting to the back of her neck. A shiver of anticipation ripped her up spine at the heat of his fingers.

Tommy’s hand stroked lower, leaving her neck. He caressed the rounded globe of her breast, his finger skimming over the nipple that hardened instantly. Della gasped for air as his lips left hers. She let out a muffled cry of surprise when his hands circled her waist. He lifted her effortlessly into his arms.

She didn’t have to ask where he was going when he started walking. He carried her through the living room and down the hall towards their bedroom.

No, his bedroom. Not mine at all.

She couldn’t stop him. Her hunger, her need, was as great as his own. Neither of them could have stopped.

The blinds were still drawn from that morning. Dull light trickled through. Della looked up into Thomas’ face when he set her down gently. Her bare feet hit the cool hardwood. Tommy’s eyes glowed, alive with the same hard intensity she felt deep in her own soul.

He bent his head and claimed her lips again in the most perfect kiss she’d ever tasted. She’d fantasized for so long about what this would feel like and now it was real. It was real and wondrous, and she’d remember it for the rest of her life.

Her pulse hammered hard as Tommy’s hands started to strip away her dress. Her mind went blank, black spots danced behind her closed lids.

Respond. Touch him.

Her mind whirled. It was so hard to force her limbs to move. This was real. All of it. Every single moment.

She came crashing back when Tommy broke the kiss. She realized she was almost fully naked, stripped down to the black lace bra and panties that were her sister’s. She shook away that thought. It brought her up short, made her hesitate.

Tommy froze. His eyes slowly changed, the hot, liquid passion icing over. “You don’t want to do this, do you?” He bent, scooping her dress off the floor. “Here. It’s alright.”

“No!” Della backed up a step. “What do you mean?” Her eyes searched his, waiting for an answer.

“It’s alright. I get it.”

“You don’t get it,” she whispered hoarsely. “You don’t get it at all. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Thomas. Everything. Then. Now. Always.” She stepped forward, realizing he’d taken her momentary hesitation as a slight against himself. She couldn’t stop now. She didn’t know what was worse. Stopping or not stopping. Either way, it was going to break her heart. She just needed to save his. To save Tommy’s.

Her hand trembled as it landed on his jeans. She slowly worked the button until it was undone and slid down the fly. He froze, his eyes searching her face before she dropped them down to her hands.

“I want you,” she said huskily. “I want you to undress and let me look at you.”

“Evie…”

Della froze at her sister’s name. She blinked hard. Just save Tommy. Save his heart. “No. Don’t say it. You are so much more than those scars. They don’t matter. You’re still beautiful. Tremendous. Sexy. The man that I want more than any other in the world.”

Thomas hesitated for a minute. She thought he was actually going to deny her, then his hands slowly worked his jeans down his legs. He stripped off his t-shirt next and stood, wearing only his black boxers.

Della gulped. Her body burned with need. Wave after ferocious wave washed over her. This was real. She was really doing this. Her eyes slowly, unabashedly took in every single detail. Tommy looked past her, over her shoulder. He was obviously uncomfortable, but she needed that minute to memorize him, to burn every single detail into her mind, to shore up those memories for the lifetime she wouldn’t have him.

He was incredible, even with the scars. His shoulders were still broad, his chest muscled even after his lengthy stay in the hospital. He was one of those men that could never quite manage to look bad, even if they lost weight and muscle tone. His limbs were long and sleek and naturally graceful, effortlessly athletic. The scars ran all the way down his one side. They curled over his leg, ran up his pelvis and chest, reached his neck and stopped at his cheek. The skin was twisted, the scars unnaturally smooth and ridged in turns throughout the entire length. The other side of his body was as wondrous as it always had been. He was a handsome man, the kind of man who would always look good to Della. Always.

“I love you, Thomas,” she whispered. There was no stopping the words. “I love you so, so much.”

His eyes snapped back to her face and his lips parted a fraction, as though he couldn’t quite believe her words were directed at him.

“I love you too- Evie,” he stammered.

She nodded. “Yes. Now come here. I want you to show me. Show me how you want me to love you. Tell me what to do.”

The muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed hard. “I… you know what to do.”

She raised a brow even though her palms began to sweat. “Do I? Even if I do, I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me what you want.”

It finally registered with him exactly what it was she wanted. He took a step back. “Are you sure, Evie? Are you sure you want to do this?”

She stepped forward boldly, hardly able to control herself any longer. She stopped, so close they were almost touching. She could feel the heat of his skin radiating against her body and a delicious, heady heat pooled in her stomach and unfurled in her pelvis, her thighs, her sex.

“I’m sure.” She slowly sunk to her knees in front of him and Thomas groaned. She boldly reached up and cupped the bulge in his boxers with her hand. “Take these off and tell me what you want,” she commanded gently, her voice like silk.

“God, Evie.” Thomas’ hand came down and buried itself in the thick mass of her hair. He slid his boxers down with his other hand, kicked them away then brought her face back.

Her hand slowly closed over his shaft. It was fully erect and thick and throbbing with need. So large she could barely wrap her hand all the way around it. She closed her eyes and even though everything inside of her screamed with the need to do everything at once, to move quickly and sate the horrible ache inside, she went slow. So very slow.

She suckled him gently, taking his cock right to the back of her throat before moving her head away. Thomas’ body jerked as she circled the top of the head with her tongue, lapping at the salty droplets of arousal. She wrapped her lips around his shaft and took him deeper again. She kept at the rhythm, drawing back, suckling him, circling him with her tongue, teasing and caressing and tasting, until he wrapped a hand in her hair and pulled her face away.

She slowly wrapped her hand around his shaft and continued to work him slowly, with a flick of her wrist, stroking him from tip to base. His entire body trembled and his breathing grew harsh and raspy.

“If you keep doing that,” he said hoarsely, “This is going to be over in a few minutes.”

His words gave her a heady sense of power. This was the man she had spent so many years longing for. The one she wanted to please and take pleasure from.

“I’m pretty sure it won’t be,” she said coyly as she glanced up.

Thomas groaned. He took charge so swiftly, turned the tables on her that Della almost didn’t have time to register his swift movement. One minute he was holding a fist of her hair, the next he’d pulled her up to standing, wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his hips automatically, on pure instinct.

His cock throbbed into her belly, so very hard. Her body ached to take him inside, to ease the ache that was always with her, that pounded so furiously in her entire body.

Thomas bent his head. She thought he was going to kiss her, but he didn’t. Instead, his lips grazed hers and he nipped her, just hard enough to create a heady sting on her mouth. He continued down her jawline, over to the tender skin of her neck, down, to her chest.

Della gasped and whimpered. She thrust her breasts against his chest, cursing the chafe of her lace bra over her sensitive nipples.

Thomas knew what she wanted. He knew what she needed. She wasn’t Evie at all. He’d never pleasured her, but somehow, he knew exactly what she desired.

He steered them over to the bed and they fell heavily, him over top of her. He thrust himself up, supported himself on one arm and all but tore away the offending bra. Luckily it did up in the front and the clasp gave without complaint.

He bent his head again, claiming one of her straining nipples in his mouth. He gave her a taste of her own medicine as he suckled her nipple, rolled it between her teeth, nipped her gently until she was mewling, her pelvis straining upwards, her hips grinding hard into his even though she still had her panties on.

“Tommy,” she panted, unable to say anything else.

Then, because he knew exactly what she needed, he released her nipple and trailed hot kisses over her chest. He moved lower, lower and when he stopped between her and his tongue flicked out to taste and caress her sex through the lace of her panties, she saw stars.