SEEING THAT DISGUSTING SPECIMEN OF a man put his hand on Vi made everything inside my body snap. My mind, my temper, my muscles, my sanity.
My heart.
The word “mine” screamed in my head as I bulldozed through the crowd and wrenched him away from her. The scene was so much worse than the one with Ethan at Club Shay. I actually feared for Vi’s safety tonight. A fear that ripped through me like a pain that I’ve never felt before.
Fuck.
Fuck!
This is all happening too fast. Too quick. Too much. She’s just so open, and trusting, and giving. She’s got no idea about the deeply rooted fear that lives inside of me every time I’m with her. We make our way up to her flat in a heavy silence. A silence that I’m not even sure how to fill at this point.
I’m fucking falling for Vi. And it terrifies me so much because she somehow turns me into a loose cannon. I lose all my control and all my sense. The immense possessiveness I have inside me regarding her safety and well-being is terrifying.
“Do you want to talk about tonight?” she quietly asks, squatting down in the dark kitchen to pat Bruce affectionately as he laps at the fresh water she’s just poured for him.
I sigh heavily and ruffle my hair. “To be frank, I just want to take you to bed and bury myself inside of you until I can’t think anymore.” I don’t tell her that being inside her is the only time I feel like I truly have her.
She rises to her feet, watching me with a sombre expression. Then she bends over and peels her dress up over her head. Her hair cascades around her shoulders as she stands before me in nothing but a black strapless bra, a black thong, and her black heels.
Desire throttles me as she drops the dress on the floor. In four strides, I’m on her. Kissing her harshly and painfully. Roughly, I toss her up on top of the counter, and she flinches at the cold granite against her bare arse. I grab her jaw gruffly, squeezing tightly as I cut my narrowed eyes to hers in warning.
Her head tilts back as her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips. I place my finger in her mouth to jerk her face back down. She responds with a firm bite into my flesh and then soothes the connection with a deep suck on my digit from root to tip. I pull it out and punish her harder with my tongue, thrusting it deep into her mouth so that she only feels my presence in her, snuffing out any sensation of her own returned kiss.
When I break away from her, arousal floods into the pools of her eyes. She wants it. She feeds off of it. My aggressive passion. She bites her lip and grips my shirt, ripping it open with one harsh yank. The sound of buttons hitting the counter and floor don’t slow her from tearing off my shirt. She kisses my peck and rubs my bulge through my denim pants, releasing a sexy as fuck moan as I thrust my cock into her greedy hand.
Unable to wait another second, I cup her arse and lift her up so she wraps her legs around my waist. They grip me tightly as I walk us into her bedroom, shutting the French doors on Bruce’s crestfallen face.
I toss her sexy fucking body down on the bed and lie on top of her. “What do you want, Bunny?” I ask, my voice husky. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” I’ll give you anything, I think to myself.
Her long lashes lift and her blue eyes twinkle, piercing me with something I didn’t expect. “Make love to me,” she says.
My heart seizes in my chest and I huff out a nervous breath.
Her face falls as she stammers, “I didn’t mean—”
I cut her off, kissing the doubt right off her mouth. I swallow it whole and bury it deep inside of me to live with the self-doubt that is commonplace in my own soul. I frantically tear off the few pieces of fabric separating our skin-to-skin contact and work toward kissing every bare inch of her luscious body. Finally, our mouths reconnect as I rest my back against her grand headboard and she straddles me. My bare cock pulses with need against her slickened folds.
Assurances that condoms are no longer necessary happened the last time we were intimate, so I’m rock-hard with anticipation of feeling her bare on me for the first time. She places my tip at her entrance and quirks a sexy brow as she slowly slides down on top of me. I groan loudly at the incredibly intimate wetness gripping my shaft. My fingers bite into her lush thighs as I breathe deeply to maintain some control of myself.
Fuuuuuck. She feels so fucking good. So fucking right. So fucking everything.
I bring her mouth down to mine, desperate to connect our bodies even further as she gyrates against me. Her tight nipples brush against my chest and I cup the heaviness of one breast in my hand. Needing to taste her everywhere, I break our kiss to pay homage to her perfect, pink bud. I suck hard and tap my teeth down lightly. She cries my name out with a throaty moan.
Hugging her tightly as she sits astride me, I swallow hard at the glorious intimacy of this encounter. The closeness I feel having her like this.
Suddenly, my leather cuff catches in her hair, and I quickly detach it to bring my hands forward to continue their exploration of her body. She stops my action by gripping both of my wrists in her hands. Her small hands clasp around the worn brown leather.
My eyes find hers in confusion and she gives me a look that scares me. “No, Vi,” I say in a warning tone. I attempt to pull my wrists free, but she isn’t easily deterred.
“Please, Hayden.” She says my name so reverently that I close my eyes, begging for my will to be strong. I want to give this woman everything, but only what I have in me to give. She has me. She has all of me, yet she still asks for more.
Sudden tears burn in my eyes. I open them to find her watching me with a soft, warm expression. She leans in and kisses both of my cheeks comfortingly.
“Please, Vi,” I beg, my voice quaking with fear. “I don’t think I can.”
Her face remains calm, serene, loving. “I’m here, Hayden,” she says. “You can.”
Her blonde hair fans a wall beside us as she looks down and takes one of my wrists in both of her hands. With my palm facing up, she releases one snap of the leather cuff. A sharp intake of breath on my part has her eyes looking up at me. She nods slowly before releasing the second snap, then the third, all the while maintaining eye contact with me. My hand tremors as she opens the cuff to reveal the bumpy ridge of the scar along my wrist. I look away ashamed, traumatised, and completely fucking sickened.
Two wet lips touch the scar, and I hiss in horror as my eyes find hers. She leans back again and takes my other wrist in her hands, popping the buttons on that one and repeating the same soft kiss.
I shake my head and sniff. “They’re hideous.”
“They’re mine,” she says, kissing them softly again and holding them to her bare chest over her heart.
My eyes look to hers in a pleading surrender. I’ve given her so much. So much she still can’t even possibly understand. But the intimacy of this is overwhelming. I can barely look at the scars myself and this woman…This woman worships them.
She strokes my hands over her chest and adds, “Your scars make you My Hayden.” She inhales a shaky breath and utters three soft words that I’d never imagine hearing from a woman seeing me this way. “I love you.”
Sadness lifts from my soul at her proclamation and the absolute devotion swimming in her eyes. She loves me? How? How can she possibly love me after everything I’ve told her? What kills me-—what completely guts me—is the attachment and love she displays for every part of me. All of my flaws. All of my darkness.
She looks at me as if my scars allow her to love me even more.
My voice is gone. Unwilling or unable to reply and return her feelings. Probably both. A knot creeps up my throat because I’m not even sure I have that emotion in me to reciprocate in the way she needs me to. It died inside me a long time ago, and I have nothing more to give her. And fuck! She deserves it. Vi deserves more. So much more.
Instead of watching her loving eyes turn to pain from my silence, I yank her to me, slamming my lips to hers in a hard, all-consuming kiss. It’s all I can give her right now.
My touch. My passion. Even my pain.
As I hug her body to mine, the silky skin of her back feels foreign as it brushes against my bare wrists.
Scars against flesh.
Hearts against souls.
And it’s in that one moment that 11:11 ticks by and I physically choose to live in this moment and not wish for another.
If only it didn’t make me feel so wrecked.