“No.Like someone who knows what they want, which you do.” Hiram steps back. “But I’m not going to chase you or trick you. As if I even could. I said I’d show you who I am, and I have. Everything else is up to you.”
She stares at him, voice low. “Why bother? I’m cursed and difficult, and—”
“I haven’t changed my mind.” There’s no sarcasm, only sincerity. “I won’t. We’re walking through hell, remember?”
Veda forces herself to look away. That certain feeling rises again. She feels it most of the time, but nothing like right now. It’s the space between close and too close. Never enough. “You’re free to walk away at any point if this gets too hard.”
“I’ll remember that.” He sounds playful, but his voice is much too low. Personal. “And you’re free to tell me what’s got you feeling like this tonight.”
“Nothing.”
“Lies. You’ve been in survival mode since I met you. Possibly longer. It sounds exhausting.”
He’s too close to the truth. It feels like dragging a boulder through a marathon she didn’t choose, constantly pushing herself to a finish line she’ll never reach. Veda folds her arms across her chest. Hiram isn’t a threat to her, only the life she’s grown used to. She wants to give in. It’s hard to ignore what he’s offering, harder not to want the sanctuary he’s been building for her.
“The cracks are there. Something is bound to get through.” The truth slips out with her next breath. “Like you did.”
Hiram’s steady eyes are an invitation. He’s waiting for her. He’sbeenwaiting.
Veda looks him up and down before lowering her guard a fraction, moving into his space. There are a thousand reasons not to do this, and only a few reasons why she should.
“Take off your shirt.” She leans in.
Hiram’s brow rises. “Now?”
“Yeah.” Veda’s lips brush against his. “I’m tired of only allowing myself the bare minimum when I want so much more.”
“We can start there.” He steals a kiss. Then another. “We’ll figure out the rest.”
When his mouth meets hers fully, the thrill shocks Veda to life before it sinks into her skin, invades her bones, and bleeds into every nerve. Hiram is right there chasing her lips, drawing her closer, framing her face. The pressure of his kiss expresses everything he’s been saying. He fills her awareness to the brim with him—only him.
When he pulls away, she’s momentarily adrift until Hiram takes her hand and leads her toward her bedroom. The short walk is torture, air thick with unspoken desire, brushing hands, tension cresting in a thunderclap of motion as soon as they pass through the doorway. Frenetic kisses and moans, whispered directions and touches, untucked and unbuttoned clothes. They speed along until a lone discussion point stops Hiram.
“I didn’t bring anything.”
“I’m cursed. I can’t—”
Hiram swallows the rest of her words with a kiss, only breaking to murmur directions as he takes his time undressing her.
Veda remembers what lies beneath too late. “I—”
“I know.”
He kisses the black streaks on her shoulder. Each reverent press leaves currents of heat that shift as he moves. His lips skim every scar. He mouths every ugly vein and whispers homage to every wound.Murmured words slide against her skin like a promise Veda lets him keep with a sigh as she closes her eyes, letting go.
“I don’t see anything wrong,” he murmurs, lifting her gently onto the bed. Veda is intoxicated, high on him, a greedy, shaking mess as his hands worship her while his mouth pours praise across her skin like water. She wants more. Molten heat pools between her legs as Hiram spreads her thighs and kneels between them.
It’s instinct, the way Veda opens for him. There’s purpose in the tilt of her hips. Her sharp inhale is loud in the silence as Hiram slips a finger inside her wet cunt, his kisses closing in on her core. Nerves spike, then flee in an instant, as sure fingers spread her lips and his tongue slides against her aching sex. A gasping breath escapes as she tangles her fingers in his hair.
Hiram takes his time, familiarizing himself with her body. The low timbre of his moan vibrates against her, sending a shock of arousal straight to her core. When she begins to quake, he slips a second finger inside, stretching and curling them in all the right ways to make her clench.
“Hiram.”
He freezes for the span of a breath before doubling his efforts, his eyes on her—watching, learning, feeling. Arching against his mouth, she is frantic as he holds her shaking legs apart and urges, demands,commandsher to—
She falls apart. Both trembling in the aftermath, they come together in quiet reverence.
Her bed is smaller than his, but that makes little difference when Hiram slips into it facing her. He kisses her deeply, draws her leg over his hip, and finds the right angle to slowly sink into her with a shaky gasp. He stretches her open until it almost hurts, overwhelming yet still not enough.
