He stared back at me. “I can’t call you Autumn, and I can’t call you Squirrel. What the fuck am I supposed to call you?”
Shrugging, I looked off across the shadowy room. I didn’t know who I was anymore; everything I had been had been stripped away twice now. I wasn’t Autumn anymore. Autumn had died along with her family and friends. And I wasn’t Squirrel, the girl who’d lived in a cave, who growled, bit, and scratched her way through life, her only focus on surviving.
Who was I now? Who was this girl in the arms of this man, who’d changed so much in such a short time and was suddenly hungering for more? I didn’t know. So instead of dwelling on what I didn’t know, I turned my attention to what I did.
“I’ve never had a beer,” I said. “I had some wine a few times at parties, though. And I do know how to give a blow job.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie; I had attempted it a few times. But like everything else I’d done sexually before Eagle, it had been a fumbling experiment between two overly excited teenagers.
Eagle’s eyes found mine, his gaze sharp as his frown intensified. Suddenly embarrassed, I almost wished I hadn’t said anything until I saw his expression start to shift.
Hunger. That was what I saw staring back at me, and it urged me on, my own need for him growing. Being with him, touching him, feeling him—it was my favorite part of every day, the only moments I really looked forward to.
As the heat in my belly spread throughout the whole of me, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. His hand cupped the back of my head, his fingers twisting through my hair, and he pulled me closer. We kissed long and hard, messy and rough. Our teeth clashed, and his grip on me turned bruising.
When I felt him grow hard beneath me, nudging against the apex of my thighs, I shifted away and pulled out of the kiss. Slipping out of his lap and onto the floor, I positioned myself between his legs. As I pried open his jeans, I glanced up at him, and my breath caught in my throat. The look on his face—I loved that look—was becoming more and more frequent.
It wasn’t hunger, although the hunger was there lighting up his dark eyes, and it wasn’t need. It was something much lighter, yet inexplicably profound. It was almost innocent in its rawness, and on a face like his, so harsh and unforgiving, it was a look that took my breath away.
I stroked him gently with my hand, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin, one of the few places on his body where the skin was unmarred and soft. It wasn’t that I disliked his rough hands or his sun-kissed, tattooed skin, it was the heady feeling that came with knowing there were parts of him untouched by the elements. Almost as if it were a secret that now only I was privy to.
As I drew him into my mouth, he groaned, a low rumble from deep within his chest. That sound, like every sound he made when I was touching him, sent a thrilling ripple of excitement through me. I loved that I could do this to him, that I could make him feel this way. I loved that I could make him feel at all.
Knowing that made the act much more enjoyable than I remembered it being. When I should have been nervous, I was anything but. In fact, I felt emboldened, empowered, even sexy. Picking up speed, I followed my instincts, relying on what seemed right and what I wanted instead of what I thought I should be doing. I gave and I gave, and he allowed me to do so. And the results were so much intimate than I ever thought they would be.
His hips jerked and his body tensed, and another groan tore free from his throat. Raising my eyes, I watched him watching me as he slid free from my mouth. He let out a ragged breath, his grip on my hair loosening as his thumb softly stroked the side of my cheek.
Keeping our gazes locked, I crawled up his body, bringing us nose to nose as his dark eyes swallowed me whole. Since the day I’d met this man, he’d made me feel a variety of things—frightened, worried, and vulnerable. And then comforted, safe, and warm.
And now, it was so much more than that.
“You can call me whatever you want,” I whispered, and gave him a devious smirk.
His dark eyes glittered with amusement and crinkled at the corners. “I have something to show you,Squirrel.”
• • •
The heart of Purgatory was empty and quiet, the air considerably colder than midday, when the sun was at its peak. Off in the distance I could hear the beat of music, but it was too far off, hidden behind buildings to pinpoint its exact location.
With my hand in his, Eagle turned us down a dark pathway between buildings, stopping beneath a rickety metal ladder. Reaching up, he grabbed the bottom rung, and when he gave it a hearty tug, it came screeching down.
“What’s up there?” I asked, counting what had to be at least five stories.
Smiling, Eagle shoved me in front of him. “You’ll see.”
Hesitantly, I took hold of the ladder and pulled myself up. Eagle was right behind me, caging me with his body as I climbed. I’d never minded heights before, but as the ladder creaked and groaned with our weight, I found myself climbing faster, anxious to make it to the top.
When we reached the top, I climbed over the lip of the roof, a little breathless. Eagle followed me over and took hold of my hand. I glanced around curiously as we crossed the blacktop.
“I was married,” he said quietly, his eyes scanning the dark horizon. “Had two kids, a boy and a girl. Worked as a mechanic and sometimes construction. Lived on the same street my whole goddamn life.” He snorted softly, shaking his head. “Married the girl next door.”
Pressing my lips together, I stayed quiet as my heart raced. I didn’t know why he was telling me this, but I did know these revelations were huge. Eagle didn’t talk about his life before; at least, never to me.
“I killed them,” he said suddenly, his features tight. “I left them alone, and when I came back ...” he trailed off, his agony plain to see.
“I killed my dad.” My words came out in a rush. He was in pain, I could see it in his face, hear it in his voice, and I couldn’t bear it. I didn’t want him to be alone inside his pain. I wanted him to know that I was there with him, that he never had to be alone again
“My dad killed Mom. He wouldn’t let me watch, but I heard it. And then later, he was sick, and I had to ... I had to ...” I swallowed hard. “I had to kill him,” I whispered.
