crawl up his body, holding him as if she wanted to crawl right inside of him. Claim him. Keep him. Forever. She knew that, damn it, but it didn’t matter. When he was touching her, the hot, drugging scent of him filling her head, his exquisite taste on her lips, nothing else mattered but him. Needing him. Wanting him. Getting him.
“Please,” she heard herself beg, too desperate to even care that she was pleading with him. With the monster who had broken her heart. “God, Eli. Please!”
His lungs worked hard as he ripped at the buttons on her jeans, his mouth hot against her skin. His tongue stroked across her racing pulse point just as he shoved his hand into the front of her cotton panties, the fabric already drenched with her juices. His fingers delved, separating her slick folds, searching out the small, sensitive opening. He circled it, before pushing inside, working that long finger deep into her tender, clutching tissues while his thumb found the tiny knot of her clit and started playing it...stroking it...faster and faster. He pushed in a second finger, forcing her body to stretch and take it, and her hips rolled, needing them deeper. Needing to be full of him.
“Jesus, Rey. You’re just as tight and soft as I remember,” he groaned, each roughly spoken word laden with something, with some unnamed emotion, that made her want to scream at him for breaking her heart and destroying what they’d had. “I’ve fucking dreamed about this so many times.”
“Eli,” she gasped, sinking her nails into his shoulders, the pain in her heart momentarily forgotten as he used his fingers to drive her wild, thrusting them hard and deep, stretching her in a way that felt so good she could feel tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, her throat shaking. She needed him inside her. Not just his fingers, but the thick, engorged shaft she could feel him grinding against her hip. Needed him on top of her, his body hard and heavy and hot against hers, while he shoved all those brutal inches inside her until she was clenching around him, milking him, lost in the most mind-blowing climax of her life.
Her sex was creamy and swollen and ripe, ready for whatever he wanted to give her. Fingers. Tongue. Cock. She was aching and desperate for every part of him, same as she’d been every night that she’d dreamed of him since he’d left her. Even years before then, when she’d wanted nothing more than for him to make her his, always waiting...and waiting. But he was fighting it. She could tell. Resisting with everything that he had, and it frightened her to think of why. Why she wasn’t enough for him. Why he’d always struggled against their connection with such ferocity.
Fight back! Resist! Damn it, she should be tossing the rejection she could feel coming right back in his face, but she...she couldn’t. As he touched her between her legs, his rough fingers stroking through those slick, plump folds with such perfect skill, making her gasp...arch...shiver, the only thing she was willing to fight for was more.
But as with everything else when it came to this man, she was destined to lose.
One moment his fingers were buried deep, bringing her to the cusp of a shattering orgasm, and in the next she was empty, his palm pressed tight against her sex, cupping her, holding her...and she could feel the smooth, hot slide of his fangs against her vulnerable throat. Ohmygod! Did he want to bite her? What on earth was going on with him?
His body was pressed so rigidly against hers, and she sensed his...pain. A visceral, devastating, burning agony. He cursed hoarsely, and she felt the first tremor that rocked through him, followed quickly by a second, until he was shaking so hard in her arms it made her teeth chatter.
“E-Eli?” she stammered through lips that were salty with her tears.
He quickly set her on her feet and pushed away from her with a choked roar, his eyes hooded and bright as he clenched his teeth. His dark brows were drawn with an emotion she could have sworn was anguish. Something had stopped him, but the bond was too weak and his emotions were too intense for her to read him clearly. Which was perhaps a good thing. Whatever had caused him to pull away from her, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it.
“What the hell, Eli? Are you—”
“Don’t! Don’t touch me!” he snarled, stumbling back from her when she started to reach for him. His gaze darted from side to side, reminding her of a trapped wolf desperate for escape.
She crossed her arms over her middle, determined to hold herself together. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he scraped out, sounding as if a brutal set of hands was crushing his throat. “Just...just go to bed, Carla. It’s late.”
“No. I want to know—”
“Just get in the damn bed!” he barked, brushing her aside so he could rip the door open. “And lock this damn thing behind me!”
He slammed out of the room then, and she reached out and slid the lock into place with a shaking hand, her thoughts reeling, and her body... Oh, God. Her body was vibrating...awakened. Misery crashed over her like a cold rain, and she shivered even harder, somehow making it to the bed. For the second night in a row, she crawled onto a lumpy mattress and curled into a ball, trying to block out everything until she was nothing more than molecules of air. Weightless. Floating. No pain or fear or emotions.
Carla tried to reach that feeling of nothingness with every ounce of her will, but it never came. As she lay there in the cold, depressing room, she just kept wanting and longing and aching...for things she would never have.
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