“You’re crazy,” she breathes.
“So you’ve said.” Finished with the distance between us, I grab her again and haul her towards me, tripping her until she lands flat on her back on the bed. I trap her in place with my knees, hands on the mattress beside her as I lean over her. “Crazy is one definition for what you’ve made me. If you don’t like it, you have only yourself to blame. You are Frankenstein, and I am the Monster—your creation. If you don’t get the reference, I’ll blame the fact you dislike reading.”
The quip is to prove I remember everything about her. Every little thing within her letters that I’ve read over and over, practically having them memorized at this point. Including the part where she said she’d try reading1984for me.
A glance to her side table reveals the novel, a bookmark jammed into the centre of it.
She tips her head to follow my attention, and red blossoms on her cheeks, reminding me of our first meeting. “It’s interesting, though I’ve had to renew the book a lot. Like,a lot.” She faces me again, jaw tightening. “Or was that a lie too, while you were playing the good inmate?”
“I’ve never lied to you. Reading’s always been a favourite activity of mine.”
Her disbelief couldn’t be any less obvious as she rolls her eyes, defiance trickling into her tone with the same venom watching her tonight has filled me with. “What else fills your nights, Cade? Tell me who you are.” Another glance at my shirt and she mumbles, “Whatyou are.”
That truth is for another day when she’s less scared of what me being home means. Eventually, everything will fall into place.
“Yours. It’s all that matters.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I’ll continue to ’til you understand.” I lower my arms until our faces are aligned, coming close enough to finally taste theglossy lips I’ve jacked off to too many times. She pushes her head back into the mattress—even while her hands curl into the material of my shirt.
Interesting little conundrum she’s experiencing.
The question of why she did it—why she cut me from her life so abruptly, what that “personal” reason was—rests on my tongue. But today isn’t the time; we have the rest of our lives. There are more important things while she’s beneath me, heart racing, blood rushing and making her flush.
Things I only fantasized about so far.
I shift my weight onto one hand to touch her. To stroke herproperly, skirting my fingers through her strands as I cup her cheek and force her face up. A thumb beneath her eyes makes her inhale sharply. She readjusts her head, giving me the opening I needed; my head lowers into the curve of her neck, allowing me to breathe in the honeyed florals that’s tainted my nostrils.
She doesn’t stiffen. Doesn’t try to pull away. Her heart continues thrumming beneath me, so I take the invitation and drag my nose in the space behind her ear, hiding my grin when her chest hikes. “It’s been ten years since I last fucked a woman. For nine of them, I couldn’t care, but then you made me yours and each day after was the worst kind of withdrawal. Pain every fucking day you were gone from my life. You will be the greatest fix.”
“You know how old I was ten years ago?” she mutters into my hair.
“If you’re trying to dissuade me by reminding me of our age difference, it won’t work.” It may have once been a reservation for me—and if it were anyone else, still would be—but Aspen’s age doesn’t change my feelings.
After placing a nipping claim to her collarbone I expect her to feel for hours more, I move down to where her skin disappearsinto her shirt. She’s unbelievably soft, and a low noise from her throat is all the consent and confirmation needed to continue.
I rub my cheek along her chest, feeling the tight nubs of her nipples through the material. They’re invitingly hard, and my teeth bite one over her shirt, light and testing.
Fists thump the bed beside her, and I smile at the obviousness in her dislike of her own desire. There’s so much I long to do, and tonight isn’t the night, but fuck if I’ll walk away without a little taste.
“So, so beautiful.” I give a little bit of praise to see if that still gets her.
I shift to her other nipple and wet the material there, too, before biting even harder. She whimpers in pleasure, and her sharp inhale jolts straight to my cock. If she says my name, I may just toss aside all my plans and take her right here, right now.
Do it. Give me permission.
“It’s been a long year of envisioning this.”
She annoyingly remains silent, but her hips rock gently into mine. Her body goes lax, lost to the sensation, but as her hips touch mine, she feels my own desire. Weight drops into her suddenly until she’s pressing into the bed, having reached her max for tonight.
With a final nip of her chest, I step back and adjust my jeans, tight from having her beneath me. “Did you like the flowers last year?”
Her tongue sweeps her bottom lip before she nods, more of a jerk of her head than anything else. “Millie enjoyed the treats too. But how did you…?” She flushes again, the age-old embarrassment of not being able to point out the limitations.
“A friend,” I reply—a half-truth. “Details are unimportant. What matters is that you get some sleep because you have work in the morning.”
Her gaze darts over her shoulder to where the time on her phone shows it’s just past midnight. She quickly turns to face me again, so I take the chance—the offer—and a hand to her face keeps her still, like an animal caught in a trap. All wide Bambi eyes and breath that isn’t inhaling any longer, I take her cheek in my palm, the feeling of silk after a year of roughness like heaven itself. Religion isn’t for me, but Aspen Tate might just make herself my kind.
