His heart flung itself in his ribcage, the thumping so fierce and horrible, he was unsure of how he was still alive. Only a step between them.
This was it.
When two souls met. When they would embrace.
With her hand extended, she turned to the side and smiled and waved to someone else. He frowned.
Why did she turn? Why did she not run into his arms? Why was she not crunched over in horrible pain like him?
Why was she not looking for her Soulmate?
She had regarded him as if he were just a stranger, a forgettable face in the crowd. A nobody.
He was her Soulmate.
Her motherfucking Soulmate.
Snatching her hand, he stood up and tugged her into him. She lost a gasp as he embraced her, crushing their chests together.
Closing his eyes, he waited in that single second for their hearts to meet, for the thumping to cease, for the insignia to carve out over their skin, telling all the world that he was hers and she was his.
“Aw, nice to meet you too.” She patted his shoulder and squirmed out of his hold. “Have a lovely day, enjoy the speech.”
Fixing her hair, she strolled on through the path, shaking hands and taking photos and hugging children and elderly.
Dig pulled down his shirt. Nothing was there.
What the fuck?
33
A tattoo on his neck stretched when he clenched his teeth.
“Bend over the couch!” His voice skittered up my legs.
A smile ripped across my mouth, and I almost tripped over my feet as I scrambled to get to the couch. I set myself behind the back of it and braced my arms and chest over the arch.
He walked over to me, taking his time, checking over my poise with approval.
I bit into my lower lip to tame the overly large smile. “What are we doing now?”
“Get that smile off your face.”
I smiled harder. “I’m ready.”
“Fucking hell.”
He looked at me for a long moment, admiring the way I was bent and proud and eager. He took out a packet of sterilising wipes from his pocket and pulled one out, showed his back to me, took off his sunglasses and cleaned them with a wipe. I cocked my head trying to find his face, however he had it hidden away.
“Eyes forward,” he said.
I looked ahead.
There was a noise—plastic being torn, I think. A moment later, he positioned himself behind me, his shadow loomed right down onto the couch cushions.
He reached under my t-shirt, setting his hand over my heart. With his free hand he pulled down my underwear. My skin pebbled from being suddenly exposed. I leaned into his hand. He coasted his fingers down, stroking my entrance. I whined, closing my eyes.
“God damn, you’re already wet.”
