"Make sure you use your sights. Look for the leaf within the sights." Holding onto the gun tightly, I straighten my arms and hold my focus between the sights. "Hold on," he says softly. His hands slide down the length of my arms and he repositions the way I'm holding the gun. "Keep this arm bent and move your hand…here." His touch is making it hard to focus. Maybe he knows this because he removes his hands but doesn't move away. I try again to focus and I finally position myself so the leaf is in my sights. "Go ahead."
I release the trigger and jerk backward into Sin's chest, feeling a rush of energy press through my veins. My heart is pounding and my breaths are short—I feel amazing.
Sin walks ahead of me toward the leaf and I lower the gun back to my side. He snatches the leaf off of the branch and brings it over to me. "How did I do?"
"Not bad," he grins. "Actually, that was pretty epic." He shows me the leaf and the bullet hole in the exact center of the leaf. "You might just be a natural."
I hate the way he's smiling at me—the crooked grin that only shows part of his teeth. I hate the way he's looking at me—the way his lids are half closed from looking down at me. I hate that he just took the gun out of my hand and placed it down on the ground. I hate that his hands are around me. And I hate—I hate that I don't hate the way he's touching me and the way his lips taste—the way his tongue tastes. The way my body aches for more. I hate what he's doing to me because I love it way too much.
His hands are cupped around my face and they're far gentler than they've been any time he has touched me in the past couple of days. His kisses soften and he pulls away just enough to look into my eyes, and I swear to God my knees literally just went weak. I try not to blink because I'm trying to read his every thought, but it isn't the thoughts I'm reading, it's the pain I can see instead. Pain that mirrors my own.
The pain disappears as his lips close back over mine. I forget about anything I'm feeling—the hunger, the aches, the thirst—it's all replaced by everything he's giving me. He lifts me up, allowing my legs to tangle around his waist. "Do you still want to screw me?" he growls.
"I never said I wanted to screw you," I mutter.
"It was assumed when you said, 'Screw you.' So, what's it going to be?" His mouth is peppering kisses from behind my ear down my neck, making it hard for me to conjure up a sarcastic response.
Giving up the battle, I let out a weak, "Yes."
He walks us over to the tree and falls against the trunk heavily; his hands skating up the bare skin on my back. My body shudders at the contact of his skin against mine, and I squeeze my arms around his neck tightly, needing whatever comes next. Slowly, he squats down against the tree until we're both seated on the ground. My shirt is torn off quickly and his hands are everywhere I want them to be. His lips follow the path of his hands and I'm losing my will to remain upright.
My breaths are out of rhythm and his are harsh against the sensitive skin over my stomach. With his hand around my back, he lowers me backwards until I'm lying flat. He's hovering over me as I press his shirt up, pulling it over his head as he loosens his belt, allowing his pants to fall to his ankles. "Sin," I breathe.
He stops mid-kiss and looks down into my eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Protection? We have none."
"I do," he whispers into my ear. "Regardless of being held hostage here like you, I'm still a man and I still had hopes. It was one of the things I needed from my bedroom yesterday."
For some reason this makes me feel even crazier inside, just thinking about the turmoil he was going through yesterday, and yet, he was still thinking about this—us. My questioning for his hate toward me is slowly diminishing. Anger is ugly and hard to see through, but it will always be present here in this situation we're confined to. I feel it too, but I can see through it. I can see him. Who he really is. I wiggle out of my pants and panties, feeling the strange sensation of the cool dirt soothe my backside. With the sunlight bright and acting as a spotlight, I take note of the faint freckles over his nose and the dull scar in the center of his chin.
He tears open the wrapper of the condom and unrolls it over his—wow. I missed a lot being locked up, and this is more than what I imagined. He lowers his body carefully over mine, keeping his knees planted into the ground as his hand travels down the center of my stomach and lower. Much lower. My eyes jerk open as I feel his finger slip inside of me. Unlike the person Sin has proven to be, the gentleness of his touch is appreciated and incredible. His finger moves in and out of me slowly, causing a melting sensation to ooze through every one of my limbs. The pressure building within is causing noises to escape from my throat, sounds I've never felt the need to make before. "I think you're ready now," he says into my ear.
His lips press against my cheek, then the corner of my lips and as his lips make contact with mine, he presses himself inside of me. It's painful at first, but not painful enough that I'd dare to ask him to stop. The soft touch of his hand feathering over my breast creates a growing desire that can't be tamed without more than what he's already giving me. I grip my hands tightly around his hips, feeling my body arch away from the ground, using him to move faster and a little harder. I don't know how much experience he has, or hasn't had, but my God, this man knows exactly what he's doing. The pain is long gone and has been replaced by a numbingly beautiful ache. I feel as though my body is moving toward the edge of a cliff and I'm not sure where my last step will be before I fall.
My begging cries grow louder as the feeling of free falling falls upon me. Everything tightens and my heart stills as I take that anticipated fall. Tremors quake through me as everything relaxes heavily into the earth. Sin moves heavily against me a few more times, groaning against my ear until he falls on top of me, breathing heavily against my neck. "My God. You have made the last five years of my life worth surviving," he utters. "I was so lost, Reese. So damn lost. And I'll be damned, but I'm so grateful you're the one who found me."
Maybe he isn't as big of an asshole as I thought.
"I'm still glad I said 'Screw you,'" I smile against his cheek.
