Itâs what he wanted, what he needed. AndâIâm not surprised at all to realizeâthat itâs what I so desperately needed from him as well. Proof that thereâs a connection between us.
Declan chooses that moment to slide his hand up from my breast to my collarbone, his long fingers circling my neck in a moment of utter domination, utter possession that might have felt threatening if it was anyone but him holding me like that. But it is Declan, and his touch feels both as hot as hell and as natural as breathing to me.
His thumb comes up, rubs over my lips again. This time I bite him, hard, and thatâs all it takes. His hips slam into mine and I shatter. Heâs right there with me, and as his body pulses against mineâas he empties himself into meâthe pleasure swamps me, takes me over.
For long, endless seconds there is nothing but Declan and me and the soul-searing ecstasy we bring each other. And though I know better, though life has taught me better, I canât help thinking that I want it to be like this between us forever.
Six
F or long moments, I just lie there on top of Declan, too drained to move. Usually when we make love it energizes me, makes me feel like I can take on the world. But tonight I donât want to move, donât want to think, donât want to do anything but lie here and pretend the whole world away. I want, just for a little while, for it to be only Declan and me.
No ACW. No Shelby. No worries about being soulbound. Just two people who like and respect each otherâtwo people who just happen to catch fire the moment they touch.
Yet even as the wish flits through my head, I know itâs not to be. Itâs been seven years since our first kiss, but only two weeks since we met again, even less than that since weâve become an actual couple, and there is so much I donât know about him. So much I donât want to know. So many questions Iâm afraid to ask.
But thatâs on me, not on him. As are these overwhelming, all-encompassing feelings for him that well up inside me when I least expect them to. I canât help the way I feel, though. I canât help the hold he has over me any more than he can help the one I have over him. And itâs not just the soulbound thing. Itâs the way he looks at me. The way he touches me, as if Iâm fragile, important,
precious
. Itâs the way he respects my strength and my right to do things on my own, but is always there to pick up the pieces when I hit the wall. And Iâve hit that wall a lot since my powers have kicked in. I canât forget that Declanâs been there, every time, to put me back together.
Part of me knows itâs dangerous to feel so much for him, especially when things are so uncertain between us, when it would be easier for him to kill me than to live with this tie between us. Oh, deep inside, where logic has no place, I know heâll never hurt me. I know he would rather die than let anything bad happen to me. After all, heâs saved me from death twice in the last two weeks. If heâd wanted me dead, it would have been easy enough to just walk away when I needed him most.
He didnât do that, though.
And still, Iâm afraid. Not of him so much as the forces that surround us and make my feelings for him so improbable, so impossible. Thereâs a darkness in him that I canât touch, and though he keeps it under wraps, I know itâs there. I can feel it in him as surely as I can feel his skin hot and slick against mine.
And still I cling to these moments of peace with bloody, battered fingertips. Declanâs right about one thingâI do feel fragile right now, as if Iâll crack if one more rug is pulled out from under me.
Declan sighs, his hand tangling in my short, razor-cut hair. I can feel his need to speak just as I can feel his hesitation. Maybe, like me, he is unwilling to shatter the quiet between us.
Declan chooses that moment to slide his hand up from my breast to my collarbone, his long fingers circling my neck in a moment of utter domination, utter possession that might have felt threatening if it was anyone but him holding me like that. But it is Declan, and his touch feels both as hot as hell and as natural as breathing to me.
His thumb comes up, rubs over my lips again. This time I bite him, hard, and thatâs all it takes. His hips slam into mine and I shatter. Heâs right there with me, and as his body pulses against mineâas he empties himself into meâthe pleasure swamps me, takes me over.
For long, endless seconds there is nothing but Declan and me and the soul-searing ecstasy we bring each other. And though I know better, though life has taught me better, I canât help thinking that I want it to be like this between us forever.
Six
F or long moments, I just lie there on top of Declan, too drained to move. Usually when we make love it energizes me, makes me feel like I can take on the world. But tonight I donât want to move, donât want to think, donât want to do anything but lie here and pretend the whole world away. I want, just for a little while, for it to be only Declan and me.
No ACW. No Shelby. No worries about being soulbound. Just two people who like and respect each otherâtwo people who just happen to catch fire the moment they touch.
Yet even as the wish flits through my head, I know itâs not to be. Itâs been seven years since our first kiss, but only two weeks since we met again, even less than that since weâve become an actual couple, and there is so much I donât know about him. So much I donât want to know. So many questions Iâm afraid to ask.
But thatâs on me, not on him. As are these overwhelming, all-encompassing feelings for him that well up inside me when I least expect them to. I canât help the way I feel, though. I canât help the hold he has over me any more than he can help the one I have over him. And itâs not just the soulbound thing. Itâs the way he looks at me. The way he touches me, as if Iâm fragile, important,
precious
. Itâs the way he respects my strength and my right to do things on my own, but is always there to pick up the pieces when I hit the wall. And Iâve hit that wall a lot since my powers have kicked in. I canât forget that Declanâs been there, every time, to put me back together.
Part of me knows itâs dangerous to feel so much for him, especially when things are so uncertain between us, when it would be easier for him to kill me than to live with this tie between us. Oh, deep inside, where logic has no place, I know heâll never hurt me. I know he would rather die than let anything bad happen to me. After all, heâs saved me from death twice in the last two weeks. If heâd wanted me dead, it would have been easy enough to just walk away when I needed him most.
He didnât do that, though.
And still, Iâm afraid. Not of him so much as the forces that surround us and make my feelings for him so improbable, so impossible. Thereâs a darkness in him that I canât touch, and though he keeps it under wraps, I know itâs there. I can feel it in him as surely as I can feel his skin hot and slick against mine.
And still I cling to these moments of peace with bloody, battered fingertips. Declanâs right about one thingâI do feel fragile right now, as if Iâll crack if one more rug is pulled out from under me.
Declan sighs, his hand tangling in my short, razor-cut hair. I can feel his need to speak just as I can feel his hesitation. Maybe, like me, he is unwilling to shatter the quiet between us.
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