Enamor (Hearts of Stone #3)

by Veronica Larsen

  I pull up onto my knees and grip onto each of her hipbones as I position myself over her entrance. I shut my eyes as my cock is enveloped in the familiar softness and warmth. She's squirming underneath me before I even start moving. Her hair spread across the pillow, she looks up at me, her eyes half closed, her mouth half open, her entire body arching with anticipation.

  Her gorgeous breasts, nipples hard, bounce to the rhythm of my thrusts. I've never seen a more gorgeous body, shaking with the force of my pounding.

  I keep cursing under my breath, trying hard not to explode inside of her at any moment, but feeling right on the edge of oblivion.

  I spin her around onto her stomach and thrust back into her. The view is glorious. Her thick black hair spread out on one side, her face pressed to the pillow, eyes shut, lips parting between moans. Her hands on either side of her, fingers clutching the sheet for dear life. And the smooth, gorgeous skin of her back yielding to her incredible ass, perked up against me.

  "Fuck. You should see how amazing this looks. You're a fucking wet dream."

  My fingers bury into the skin of her hips as I anchor down and go even harder. I can see exactly how our bodies come together from this angle. I can see how wet my cock is right before I slam back into her.

  She makes desperate whimpering noises coupled with whispers of encouragements. At first, I can't hear what she's saying, but her whispers roar to a full-blown plea when I reach around and start rubbing her clit. She's saying, oh God, oh God, oh God.

  Yeah, I feel like a god.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Julia

  THE LAST FEW DAYS have consisted of long nights with Giles and longer days at work where I reminisce the entire time. We've had sex all over that house, risking Ava walking in and catching us. I would be lying if I said that didn't add to the excitement of it all. If it didn't feel extra good to have to drown my moans with his pillow because Ava might be just down the hall.

  I'm generally in a great mood during the day. But every once in a while, Lex asks me, quite casually, how things are going and the spell breaks. I'm reminded that Giles and I have yet to really have the conversation to define what we're doing together.

  It's strange and embarrassing, but I don't seem to care much about it at night. It's hard to care about anything when he makes me feel so damn good. But, as the days pass, I start to worry that he and I barely talk anymore. All we do is have sex. And though it's amazing and I enjoy every second of it, I worry it's eclipsing our real connection. He's always told me that our conversations were something he didn't have with anyone else. Our late night talks gave us something even our bodies can't offer up.

  Tonight the thought weighs on me heavier than usual. It doesn't help that I agreed to pull a double and the day is the longest I've had in a very long time. When I leave work, I'm exhausted. And when I get home, Giles is already asleep. I slide into bed beside him, noticing that there's nothing serene about his sleeping face. His brows are knitted and his breathing is faster than usual. I wonder if he's having a nightmare, if I should wake him. But just as I start to consider this, his breathing slows, his expression softens, and he turns over in bed, oblivious to my presence.

  The next morning, I wake up to the sight of him on his pillow, looking at me.

  I rub my eyes. "Hey," I say, grinning.

  "Hey." He smiles back and to anyone who didn't know him, he'd appear as carefree as ever. But I've been familiar with the nuances of his expression for a while now, and I instantly know there's something on his mind.

  "Are you okay?"

  He smiles again and says, "You read me like a book, don't you?"

  I wouldn't say that. There's more than one chapter I can't seem to decipher.

  His arm comes out of nowhere, pulling me closer.

  "I'm going to see my mom on Friday," he says. "For the first time in a long time."

  It's Wednesday.

  "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "I don't want to think. I just want to feel you."

  He starts kissing my neck, a hand making its way down my lower stomach. I take his hand in mine to stop him and gently push him away.

  "You don't have to talk about it, but I don't like to feel like you're using my body as a diversion."

  My stomach sinks at the way he shuts his eyes, but I hold my ground. I bring my hand up to cup the side of his face, my thumb caressing his cheekbone. "Whatever it is you're going through with your mom, you're cheapening what you feel by trying to distract yourself from it."

  He shakes his head, his palm stroking his chest like there's something there he's trying to smooth out. "You're right."

  I lower my hand to my side and we fall silent, simply breathing. He's looking down at the sheets like his thoughts are projected there.

  "I didn't just lose my dad," he says suddenly. "I lost my mom, too. Something in her broke, like the way something in him broke at war. Last year, on the one year anniversary, she tried to kill herself, too."

  Something pulls at my heart from either side, threatening to rip it in half. I shut my eyes for a few seconds.

  "You never told me that part."

  "It's been the hardest to think about. With my dad, I guess you could say he had no way of knowing how bad it would affect us. But my mom? She was there, she knew. She saw what it did to me. I saw what it did to her. The fact that she'd go on to do that…it was like she didn't care she would be leaving me without any family." His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, hard. "I haven't been able to forgive her for that. So, seeing her again? It's not something I really want to do."

  I lie still, watching him speak. Depression, PTSD…mental health, in general—I understand these things very well. I study them. I understand the effects they have on a person. But listening to Giles tell me his experience? It makes me think I don't know anything at all. Because words fail me for several long moments.

  Finally, I say, "You have to realize it wasn't a choice."

  He's still not looking at me. I don't think he can.

  "What do you mean?"

  "This is how I understand it…your dad was sick, Giles. He didn't choose to leave you. Just like someone with a tumor doesn't choose to let it kill them. The same with your mom. Maybe hers was more of a situational depression, not being able to cope with your father's death, but it's the same thing—she was sick. Just remember that, maybe it will help."

  "What does that say about me, though? Both my parents tried to kill themselves. One of them succeeded."

  There's an almost embarrassing tinge to his words, like he secretly suspects he's the cause of it all. Like he's just voiced one of his deepest fears.

  My response catches in my chest before I can speak. And it swells there, leaving me struggling to take in a breath. I get it now, why it's so hard for him to talk about this. In his mind, the people he loved abandoned him and he's somehow to blame for everything.

  "It doesn't say anything about you," I finally say. "You're not them. You didn't go to war and suffer from PTSD. You didn't lose your husband and spiral into depression."

  "But maybe I'm fucked up in some other way."

  "Maybe you are. Maybe I am, too. Maybe we're all fucked up in our own, special snowflake sort of way. But it's a dark road to focus on what makes us broken. We should focus more on being kind and patient with ourselves and forgiving others for the things they never thought to apologize for."

  His gaze swings to mine and I get whiplash from its intensity. For a second there, his eyes narrow and I swear I see something settle into place inside of them.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Giles

  THE NEXT MORNING, THERE'S not a single thought in my head as I fuck Julia against the door of my bathroom. Our bodies are still wet from the shower. We were clean for just long enough to start getting dirty again. I just can't help myself around her.

  Her face pressed against the door, I enjoy the slight rumbling sounds it makes with each of my thrusts. She keeps her lips
shut tight, but sounds still manage to escape. It turns me on so much to see how little control she has over herself when I'm inside of her.

  "You're mine," I tell her. "And I'm yours. Don't ever question that."

  Her response is to clamp down around my cock, pulsing against me as she comes.

  "Shit," I blurt out, unable to contain myself. "Fuck, yes," I groan, my hips jerk frantically as I come hard and suddenly.

  Right as we wind down, her body resting against the door, a thundering knock startles us both to hell.

  "Hey, fucktards," Ava calls out from the hall, "when you're done screwing in there, can you come out here? The fire alarm is going off."

  Julia swings around to look at me, eyes wide, mouthing something I can't understand right away. Her face is bright red and I'm trying not to laugh.

  "Get out there," she hisses, pushing me into the bedroom.

  I pull on my pants and head into the hall and toward the loud beeping sounds Julia and I have been completely unaware of.

  Jesus, the house could burn down around us and we wouldn't notice. Luckily, whatever set the alarm off isn't a real emergency. Ava accidentally set it off making herself food. I climb on a chair and disable the sound. As I climb back down, a different sort of alarm faces me; the one on my cousin's face as she glowers at me.

  "I was going to tell you," I say, heading her off.

  "What? That you two have been screwing?" Ava says. "Please. I've known since the night of the party."

  She turns away and walks to the sink, where a faucet is running over a steaming pot.

  "So you're not pissed?" I ask.

  "Pissed? No. I don't really care what you two do. But I do think you're being reckless. She's not the fling type and you're not the relationship type, so where does that leave you?"

  "That," I say, "is really not your business."

  "Wrong again. As much as I'd like to not give a shit, I have to worry about her suddenly breaking the lease and leaving me without a third roommate."

  Can Julia hear us from the bedroom? I hope not, though Ava's making no effort to keep her voice down. She never does.

  "You don't have to worry about that."

  "Why? Are you two serious?"

  There's a beat of silence that might as well be a punch to my gut. I can't. I can't talk about this right now. "It's new, Ava. That's all you need to know."

  I leave it there, walking away without another word. When I get back into the room, Julia's sitting on the edge of the bed, her face blank of emotion. This is never a good sign.

  "Sorry about that," I say of Ava's tactless interruption. "I know that was embarrassing for you."

  "I'm fine," she says, crossing her arms.

  "Hey…" I walk over and use a finger to try to guide her chin up to look at me, but she moves my hand away.

  There are words on the tip of her tongue, I can see the way she's resisting to say them. So I wait, letting the silence drag out.

  "I'm not sure we're on the same page," she finally says.

  "About what?"

  She lets out a small sneer, as if she can't believe I don't know.

  "About us," she snaps. "About where we stand and what the things we do mean."

  "Julia…" I pause, waiting for her to meet my eyes. She does and I continue, "You're the only one I want, do you get that? You're the only thing I want."

  "So why is this conversation so forced? Why is the topic of where we stand so bitter? Shouldn't it be simple?"

  I rub my face then reach over to pull on her hand, guiding her to her feet. My arms wrap around her waist and I lean my forehead on hers.

  How do I tell her that this conversation terrifies me right now? Not because I don't want to be with her, but because I want it so badly the thought of losing her terrifies me. And all that I can think of lately is loss. How easily things are lost and how little people leave behind when they disappear from your life. I know it's self-centered. And I'll find a way to give her everything, when I can. But right now? I need to press pause. I need time to stop, right here. Right before things get scary.

  "Let's not fight," I say. "It's not us."

  "Us?" She pulls away from me. "No, Giles. It's not us. It's you and it's me. It's never us. We've always fallen short of an us. That train left the station and I think we've been sitting there waiting for it to return, instead of accepting that maybe it's not coming back."

  "You're wrong," I say, her words hollowing me out. "There is an us."

  "Maybe," she says, bitterly. "Maybe there's an us, but on your terms. A hazy, maybe someday sort of us. But I'm not okay with this gray area. I'm not okay with you not wanting to define what we are."

  I can almost hear her thoughts screaming at me through her eyes.

  I want to be your girlfriend, you idiot. I want to feel like this is more than just a temporary thing. I want steady ground to stand on with you.

  And I hate myself for not being able to be her steady ground. I can't be that for anyone, right now. I can barely stand on my own two feet as it is.

  "What do you want, Giles? I can't keep giving myself to you the way I do and pretend it's enough that you care about me. I deserve more. We are either in a committed relationship or we're not."

  I hesitate, not wanting to say the wrong thing. But here I am, unable to say the right thing. It's not complicated. It's so goddamn simple. It's just words, but words are everything, and I just can't push past this last damn wall.

  Julia looks down and her voice is sharp at the edges, the way it used to be back when she wasn't sure she could be open with me. "I'm here for you, if you need me. But from now on, I only have sex with my boyfriend. Let me know if you see him around anywhere. I may or may not have one. I may or may not have to find a new one."

  Is she threatening to go out and be with someone else if I don't promise her commitment right this minute? The thought makes me furious.

  "I don't like ultimatums," I say, voice low in warning.

  "Yeah? Well, that's too bad, Giles. I don't like being someone's distraction."

  She storms out of the room, leaving the door to slam shut behind her. The moment she leaves, I want to throw something across the room, frustrated I can't seem to put words to my thoughts, can't seem to get her to understand why I can't give her what she wants right now.

  An hour passes, where the initial anger fades away, and I'm left with just regret. I need to try to talk to her again. I can't face tomorrow knowing she and I are at risk of falling apart. But after I knock on her bedroom door a few times, Ava comes out of her own room to tell me Julia's gone.

  "What do you mean gone?"

  "She went to stay with her friend for the night," Ava says, and judging by the severe way she's eyeing me, it's clear she thinks Julia did the right thing in leaving.

  "I'm guessing you overheard our argument."

  "Yeah. Well, part of it. Enough to let me know you're an idiot."

  "I know I am," I say, "but maybe you can cut me some slack until after tomorrow?"

  "Shit." Ava shuts her eyes. "I forgot. I'm sorry."

  "It's okay. I'll be fine."

  "Did you tell her? Does she know?"

  I shake my head. "She only knows I'm meeting my mom. She doesn't know why."

  "Giles…"

  "I know, Ava." I turn away to walk back to my room. "I know."

  But it's too late now. I can't unload this information on Julia right after our fight. She might think I'm just fishing for sympathy.

  She's right to be angry with me. I'm not giving her what she needs, the certainty she wants. And even if she could understand why I don't have it in me, it wouldn't change the fact that she deserves more than what I can give her.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Giles

  LAST YEAR, MY MOTHER and I didn't come to my father's grave together for the anniversary of his death. She couldn't, she was in the hospital. And though I should've been there with her, I chose to come alone and ask my father questions he
couldn't answer, blame him for things he had no idea would happen.

  I can still taste the anger on my tongue from that day, the bitterness that seemed to flow through my veins for months to come.

  The anger has faded away and with it, a lot of the questions I had. Questions, I now realize, were self-serving. Questions that simplify things that aren't meant to be simplified, trivializing issues that run deeper than I understood at the time.

  I make that drive to the cemetery again this morning. Only this time, my mother sits in the car beside me. When I picked her up, she hugged me tight and seemed to breathe me in the way mothers do to young children. I should've felt something then, but all I felt was cold.

  We're quiet on the way to Point Loma. I can see her fiddling with her hands from the corner of my eye. One time, I make the mistake of glancing down and glimpse the old scars on her wrists. They are what I dread most about seeing my mother, they are a cruel reminder of a day I'd much rather forget.

  My mother goes unusually still as the hedges and bushes on the left side of the road fall away to unveil slopping grass and countless identical white headstones in perfect rows, as Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery comes into view.

  I reach over and silently take her hand, closing my fingers over it. I don't know if it's my gesture or our proximity to my father's grave, but she takes in a choked breath that holds the threat of tears.

  "I love you, Mom. You know that, right?" My voice sounds far away and I barely recognize it as my own.

  She doesn't answer me because she's crying at my words. I hate that she's crying, but I know she needed to hear me say that. Aside from her periodical sniffling, she doesn't make another sound until I park, then she takes in a deep breath, attempting to suck in courage I'm not sure exists in the confines of this car.