My chest ached at his words. He wasn’t talking about the cloud of danger hanging over our heads. He was talking about his past and all the things he’d done. The bad things. The things that made him hate himself.
I whispered against his shirt. “Then I’ll never stop.”
He was silent for a moment and then placed the barest of kisses to my hair before opening the door. I wasn’t aware of the room or anything in it. Only him. I knew when we’d reached the bed because he stopped and lowered my bare feet to the cool hardwood floor.
He glanced down at the shirt I wore and smiled, running his finger under the lapel and undoing the top button. “I like you in this.”
My breath caught and I talked nonsense. “It smells like you. I like how you smell.”
He glanced up at me as he undid the second. “Do you.”
I nodded. “I do.”
A third slid free, and his knuckles grazed the skin between my breasts. I began to tremble.
“Parsley?” he asked, hesitating on the fourth.
“Hmm?”
“You’re not wearing anything under this.”
My face heated. “No . . . my things were dirty.”
“Are you wearing anything under my pants?” he asked softly.
“No.”
A muscle in his jaw tightened. “Is that so.”
I nodded, biting my bottom lip.
He held my gaze as he undid the remaining buttons, leaving the shirt hanging open loosely. I let out an audible breath, feeling strangely vulnerable. Nobody had ever seen me naked before, and I knew in just a few moments that was about to change. It was terrifying. And I’d never wanted anything more in my entire life.
He reached for the waistband of my pants, tugging me forward gently. I gasped. His eyes went to my mouth as he untied the strings. “I’m the first man to undress you.”
It wasn’t a question. “Yes.”
Pausing, he took me by the nape and kissed me with a startling possessiveness. As I leaned into it, he slid the shirt off my shoulders, the crisp fabric whispering across my skin. It fell to the floor behind me, making a soft sound as it landed. The air was cool and unexpected, and I couldn’t help but tense.
“I want to look at you,” he said, hesitating as if awaiting my permission. As if he knew how nervous I was.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Leaning back, he gazed down and became so silent that I began to feel self-conscious. I started to cross my arms over my chest but he captured my wrists. “No,” he said. “Don’t ever hide from me.”
When, after a moment’s hesitation, I nodded, he slid his hands up my arms. My breath hitched as he grazed the sides of my breasts. Just the hint of his touch was enough to set me on fire.
“Nothing compares,” he murmured.
Against my will, I recalled the women in his memories. “You’ve seen so many.”
Looking at me, he cupped me firmly and rubbed his thumbs over my nipples. I sucked in a breath. “They weren’t you,” he said.
I pressed into him as he continued that slow rubbing. “I want to look at you too,” I whispered.
“Not yet. I want you naked first.”
I didn’t protest as he skimmed his fingers down my ribcage and tugged my pants over my hips.
“Jesse.” I held his shoulders as he crouched.
“I know,” was all he said as he pulled them all the way down, his knuckles rasping my thighs. He held my gaze and steadied me as I lifted my feet out. Once they were free, he tossed the pants aside so that I stood before him completely nude. I found it hard to breathe.
He pressed a kiss to my navel and spoke against my skin. “Let me taste you.”
I knew my knees wouldn’t hold me much longer. He was so close. His lips. His fingers. His tongue. I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but I had some idea. The suspense made me lightheaded. “There?” I asked, looking down and swallowing at the sight of his dark hair against my pale skin.
His voice was rough as he kissed me a little lower. “There.”
“Okay.” I watched, transfixed, as he kissed his way down to the top of my curls. I whimpered as he nuzzled his nose into them.
He groaned, the vibration tickling me. “You smell so damn good.”
I didn’t have time to consider the compliment because the sudden sensation of his tongue on my most delicate skin utterly stole my mind. It circled, slick and firm, teasing me. Then his lips were gently sucking, drawing a shocked cry from me.
And I wasn’t the only one caught up. His fingertips dug into my thighs, his shoulders tight beneath his shirt. He made a deep, growling sound as he slid his tongue inside me, as if the penetration was a kind of claim. A domination.
“Jesse.” I inhaled sharply as he slid it in again, a little deeper this time. My voice was a breathy, needy thing. “Please.”
He kissed my inner thigh with damp lips. “What do you want, Parsley? Tell me.”
I put my hands in his hair, tangling them. “I want you,” I whispered. “All of you.”
17
Soft Skin & Sacrifices
Jesse smiled into the softness of her thigh and stood, skimming over her gentle curves as he went. Memorizing. He’d never taken the time to really be present with women in the past. To see them. Really feel them.
But he felt her. Nothing had ever felt the way her skin did beneath his hands. It was warm and smooth and sensitive to his touch. She reacted to the slightest graze of his fingers or brush of his lips. And he found that he craved hearing the noises she made in those moments.
He reached for the hem of his shirt, but she placed her hand on his wrist to stop him.
“No,” she said, looking at him with wide eyes. “Let me.”
Her touching him was an entirely different story. Just the idea of her tentative fingers on his skin made him want to come. That, and the knowledge that he wasn’t clean enough for those hands. Never would be.
Not that he would—or could—tell her no.
He watched as she pushed his shirt up. When she reached his chest, he obligingly raised his arms so she could pull it over his face. She had to stand on her tiptoes, and he groaned as her nipples unintentionally grazed his bare chest. The shirt got stuck on his elbow, and he helped her by tearing the thing off and throwing it aside with a quiet growl.
She gave a small smile and lowered back down to her heels, resting her fingertips lightly on his abdomen. “You’re so . . .”
“What?” His throat tightened as she reached his waistband.
“Perfect,” she said finally. “You’re so perfect.”
He touched the side of her face. “No.”
“Yes.” She undid the button of his jeans.
“Fuck.” He closed his eyes, letting her unzip him. Then she was tugging down his jeans. It was so simple, the act of undressing. But here, now, it felt like a kind of agony. It made him ache.
Before she could kneel—something he didn’t think he could bear—he pushed his jeans the rest of the way down and kicked them off, thankful his feet were already bare. Having to stop and untie boots was not a delay he needed right now. When she reached for the waistband of his boxer briefs, he grabbed her wrist.
“I’ll do it,” he said, unnerved by how close to coming he already was. As he pulled them down with a tight jaw, he watched her watch him. The sweet color in her cheeks. The innocent wonder in her eyes. The way her lips parted when she saw him for the first time.
She was too good for him.
He knew it.
He didn’t stop.
Taking her into his arms, he wove his fingers through her hair, pulled her head back gently, and kissed her. As his cock pressed against her naked skin, the groan he made into her mouth was hoarse. She was so soft. So willing. Just as he’d known she would be. Yet the frantic beat of her heart against reminded him that she was new. That he needed to use a slow hand.
“Grab my neck,” he said. She did, and he picked her up by the thighs so she co
uld wrap her legs around his waist. She laughed breathlessly, her hair sliding over her shoulders as she looked down at him. He nipped her bottom lip playfully, walking her the few steps to the bed. Bracing his knee on the comforter, he just held her a moment. Skin to skin. Eye to eye. Heady. Intoxicating. The connection was deep—beneath the blood and bones—and it stirred something in him that had been asleep for a long, long time.
And he knew then that he held his whole world in his arms. That she owned him in a way Patrick never had.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked softly, touching the corner of his mouth.
He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
She searched his eyes. “I know.”
Holding her gaze, he slowly lowered her onto the bed and held himself over her. “You’re lovely.”
And she was. Soft skin and tousled hair. Eyes wide and staring up at him with open trust. Nothing between them but the air they breathed.
She blushed. “When I’m with you.”
“No.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Always.”
Her chin rose as she returned the kiss.
“Spread your legs,” he instructed just as he had earlier. Only this time, there were no clothes hiding her body from him. She obeyed immediately, her bare thighs moving beneath his, and he fought the urge to smile at her eagerness. She was nervous, yes. The sound of her heartbeat was loud and anxious. But she wanted this. She wanted him. Even after everything.
He gripped her knee and pulled it up against his chest. He was rewarded with her soft gasp. Skimming his fingers down her outer hip, he brushed his lips against her ear. “You give me a gift,” he murmured.
She only made a distracted noise as he put his hand between them and slowly slid a finger inside her. She arched, digging her fingers into his biceps. The action drew his finger in deeper, and he pressed his palm gently against her clit. Her moan made his balls tighten.
“You’re wet for me.” He placed a kiss against her throat, feeling her pulse throb beneath his tongue. How he wanted to taste her. Feel his teeth in her skin. Her blood on his lips. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t share with her what he hated most about himself. Animals bit. And he would not be an animal with her.
“That’s . . .” She tilted her head back as her voice trailed off.
He turned away from the pale length of her throat. “You like that?” he asked, kissing her shoulder, his finger sliding in and out. Slow. Deep. Her thighs trembled against his forearm with each penetration.
“Yes,” she whispered, licking her lips.
He made a sound of approval. He’d never gotten so much satisfaction from touching a woman. But she was different in this way. In all ways. Watching her, he lowered his mouth to her nipple, drawing it in, pulling the hard nub between his teeth and teasing it deftly with his tongue.
“Jesse,” she gasped, her fingers going into his hair, instinctively holding him to her.
He continued working his finger and palm. Steady. Relentless. Groaning around her nipple when he heard her breath catch and felt her body tense beneath him.
Raising his head so he could see her face, he said, “Come for me, baby.”
Flushed cheeks. Mouth open and damp from her tongue. Auburn hair spread across the duvet in a glorious mess.
She was the best thing he’d ever seen.
“Come,” he said again.
And she did. With his name on her lips. His pride roared as she rode it out, his own thighs straining with anticipation. “That’s it,” he whispered, kissing her palm, which had fallen from his hair to the side of his face. “That’s it, baby.”
When she settled, her legs relaxing, she turned her head to the side and brought trembling fingers to her mouth. Her laugh was quiet. “That was . . .”
Smiling, he climbed over her. “Look at me.”
She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling.
Holding her gaze, he lowered himself between her legs and waited. He didn’t need to speak for her to know what he was asking.
She studied his face and then nodded.
A surge of eagerness and yearning made his hand shake as he reached down and gripped himself. She bit her lip and waited. Lower back flexing, he rubbed the head of his cock into her slit, around and around, a little deeper each time until he began pushing in slowly. She gasped at the penetration, her nails biting into his biceps.
“Are you okay?” he breathed, shoulders straining as he paused. She was tight. Slick. He wanted in. So much that he trembled with the effort to wait. But he did wait.
“Yes,” she said, her voice high. “Keep going. Please.”
“It will hurt.”
She slid her hands down his back and gripped his ass, pushing him in a little deeper. “I know.”
“God . . . damn.” He barely kept from burying himself.
She turned her head to kiss his forearm. “I want all of you.”
Holding her gaze, he gave her a little more, enjoying her soft gasp. And then, watching her face carefully, he pushed in all the way, his breath coming out in a loud exhale. The subtle sensation of breaching her hymen made him tense. It also made him want to snarl with possessiveness. She was his. Only his.
“Are you in pain?” he asked as gently as he could.
“I don’t remember.” Her eyes were closed. “More.”
He would have smiled if he hadn’t been so tortured. Instead, he gave her what she wanted. Slow, deep, lingering thrusts, his damp hair swinging in his face. She let out a soft cry each time he went in fully. The sound fascinated him. She’d always been beautiful but, in this moment, naked beneath him, taking him inside her, she was beyond words. His whole world had been reduced to her skin and the sounds she made and the way she smelled.
Leaning down, he kissed her, groaning into her mouth as the urge to come tightened his balls. Instinctively, she locked her legs at the ankles over his back.
“I like that,” he said, shoulders tensing. She kissed him in response, and he got lost in the sensations. Her hot breath in his mouth. Her skin moving against his. Her nails digging into his back. How tight she was around his cock. So sweet and wet for him.
He came hard, the muscles in his back straining as their kiss turned desperate. She accepted his tongue with a whimper, her fingers tangling in his hair. He growled as he emptied, knowing that his coming inside her was a possession. A marking. He wanted it in her. Wanted her to know that she was his.
Even if their future was uncertain.
When he was spent, holding himself on trembling arms over her, his head hanging as he caught his breath, she put her fingers to his damp lips. Her voice was a whisper. “I love you, Jesse.”
He met her gaze. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. His chest ached with emotion. He’d known how she felt for a while now. Saw it in her smile. Saw it every time she’d glanced at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. But to hear it on her lips made it real. Made it tangible. And he’d stolen it from her with each lie he’d told.
“I love you,” she said again, pressing her hand against his heart. “Here. Now. This is the man I love.”
“Why?” His voice cracked, and he rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “I’m no good, Par. You have to know that.”
“You are good.” She studied his face. “To me, you’re good.”
And he realized then as he held her gaze that the greatest thing you could do in your life wasn’t to simply love someone. It was to sacrifice for them. There was no greater act. Because love wasn’t about the heart. It was about the soul and how much of it you were willing to lose.
***
Bane lounged on his stomach across Patrick’s massive bed, his nude body warm against the cool, satin sheets. He hadn’t left the room in hours and the smell of sex and blood was heavy in the air. He smiled, feeling satisfied in more ways than one.
“He has betrayed me,” Patrick murmured, the tips of his fingers making
a leisurely trail back and forth over the curve of Bane’s ass.
A surge of triumph went through him, but he hid it. “I agree, Sire.”
“I don’t understand why he would do this.”
Bane wanted to point out that it was because the brothers were privileged bastards and that Patrick had never punished them like they’d deserved. Not like he had Bane and the rest. But he spoke carefully, not wanting to ruin the moment. “It’s not your fault. Whatever the reason.”
Silence floated between them, and Bane eyed the empty bottle sitting on the bedside table. It’d been the first time he’d tasted werewolf. Its effervescence still tingled in his throat.
“Of course it isn’t,” Patrick said. “It has to be the girl. What do we know about her?”
Mentally calling up her file, Bane shrugged. “Single. Waitress. Moved around a lot. Kept a low profile,” he said. “Nothing remarkable.”
He heard the crinkle of cellophane as Patrick unwrapped a peppermint. “And her looks?”
Bane shifted onto his back. He crossed his arms behind his head, eying the tattoo on Patrick’s palm. Bane’s tongue knew the design. Intimately. “Average.”
“Average,” Patrick repeated, his gaze traveling over Bane’s unabashed nudity like a soft caress. “Joshua?” he called, without looking away.
The boy walked briskly into the room, his gaze directed anywhere but at the bed. Bane smirked. He’d been that young once. “Yes, Sire?”
“I need you to bring me a file,” Patrick said, sucking on the candy. “The original. The backup is unavailable.”
“Which one would you like?”
“A Miss Parsley Ellen Walker. Telekinetic,” he said. “It’s a primary. Not yet attained.”
Joshua gave a brief nod and left.
“Sweet, isn’t he?” Patrick asked, staring after him.
Bane made a noise of indifference. “If you like blonds.”
Laughing, Patrick gazed at Bane’s hair. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Bane smiled and cupped his own balls in response. He was blond there too.
Amused, Patrick leaned back against the pillows and stared toward the doorway. “Are you prepared to move on the Silver siblings?”
First Fruits Page 17