Bliss
His confession vibrated in the air, raw and thick, and the feel of his hand cupping me through my jeans sent a jolt straight through me. My breath hitched, a sharp, wet sound that got lost in the space between our mouths. He kissed me, his lips warm and firm, and the low moan that rumbled in his chest when he tasted the salt on my skin unraveled something inside me, a final, fraying knot of fear.
“You won’t stop?” I whispered against his lips, the question barely audible.
His eyes, dark and burning, held mine. “Fuck no, Pip.”
Then his mouth was on mine, and it wasn’t like the careful, restrained kisses from the past few days. This was a reclamation. A demand. His tongue swept in, hot and possessive, and a broken sound tore from my throat as I kissed him back with every ounce of desperation I’d been carrying. My hands flew to his hair, gripping the dark strands, pulling him closer until the hard line of his body was flush against me, my legs wrapping around his hips on instinct.
A sharp, bright pain lanced through my side at the movement. I gasped into his mouth.
He froze instantly, pulling back just enough to search my face. “Your ribs.”
“I don’t care,” I breathed, dragging his mouth back to mine. “I don’t care, Cade. Please.”
He made a tortured noise, his hands coming up to frame my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks as he kissed me deeper, slower now, but no less intense. It was a kiss that tasted like frustration and longing and a promise of everything to come.When he finally broke away, we were both panting, foreheads pressed together.
“We’re doing this here?” I asked, voice shaky as he looked around. Charm and Aura were down the hall, but they wouldn’t bug us if they heard us. I didn’t know about everyone else.
He nodded as my fingers traced the tense line of his jaw. “No way in hell they would dare come near this kitchen.”
“On the counter, though?”
“Yes.” He cupped the back of my neck, pulling my mouth to his.
“Fuck me, Cade, please. I don’t care where. Just let me feel this. This us thing that we have.”
He let out a shaky laugh, his eyes drifting closed for a second. “Okay, Pip. But we’re doing it my way. Slow. You tell me the second anything hurts, you understand? You don’t play hero. You tell me, and if we can’t do this, I’ll still keep reminding you I want you. I’ll chill on the overprotective shit, but you don’t lie to me about pain.”
The command in his voice, the protective ferocity underneath it, made my stomach flip. “I promise. Just touch me.”
His hands slid down from my face, over my shoulders, pulling the oversized hoodie off. The cool kitchen air hit my skin, raising goosebumps. I was just in a thin cotton bra and my sleep shorts. His gaze darkened as it traveled over me, lingering on the yellowing bruises that peeked out from the neckline of my shirt, the shadow of one along my jaw.
“Fuck,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his eyes lifted to mine. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Even with the bruises he left. Is that sick of me? Knowing he marked your skin, but when I’m done, you’ll only remember I licked and kissed every spot on your tight little body?”
“No,” I said instantly. “Nothing about the way you want me is sick, Cade.”
He nodded, a muscle in his jaw jumping. His hands went to the clasp on my bra. “Arms out, Pip.”
I obeyed, lifting my arms as he carefully drew the soft fabric off and let it fall to the floor. The movement tugged at my ribs, a dull ache, but the look on his face when he dropped it and just stared was worth any pain. His gaze was pure heat, worship and hunger mixed, tracing the curve of my breasts and the bruises painting my ribs and stomach in violent watercolors.
“Fuck,” he breathed out.
One hand came up, hovering over the worst of the bruising along my left side. He didn’t touch. His fingers just trembled in the air.
“I wanna kill him, Pip. I want to end his fucking life with my bare hands.”
“Don’t think about him,” I whispered, covering his hovering hand with mine and guiding it to my skin. “Touch me. I need you with me. No outside noise.”
His palm was warm, almost scorching, as it settled gently over the injured curve of my waist. His thumb stroked the unbruised skin just below my breast, a slow, maddening circle. Then he leaned in, pressing his lips to the hollow of my throat, then lower, to the top of my breast. His mouth was soft, open, his tongue flicking against my skin.
“Cade…” I moaned, my head falling back against the cabinet behind me.
His sharp intake of breath was the only sound for a moment. Then his mouth was on my nipple, hot and wet, sucking deeply, and a soft cry felt like it was ripped from my lungs. My back arched off the counter, pain flaring white-hot at my ribs, but it was swallowed instantly by the wave of pure,blinding pleasure that followed. His other hand came up to cup my other breast, his thumb rubbing rough circles over the peak.
“Fuck…” he groaned against my skin, his teeth grazing lightly before he soothed it with his tongue. “Taste so fuckin’ good, Pip. You’re so soft.”
His words, reverent and promising, poured over me like gasoline on a fire. I tangled my hands in his hair, holding him to me, my hips rocking uselessly against him, against the hard ridge of his erection straining against his pants. The friction was nowhere near enough.
