by Levine, Nina
The caress of his tongue.
The brush of his lips.
The grip of his hands.
His mouth cherished me in the same way his heart beat for me.
I threaded my fingers through his hair and held on tight as he made me come. Bliss moved along my skin and buried itself deep in my body as my orgasm pulsed through me. I lost myself in it, my climax the only thing touching the edge of my consciousness.
He held me up while I sagged against the wall and then he stood and lifted me, taking me to the bed. I loved being in Donovan’s arms, and almost whimpered when he placed me on the bed, and let me go. I tracked his movements as he pulled his shirt off and then removed the rest of his clothes. When he stood naked, our eyes met again, and the feral way he stared at me caused my core to clench.
“Come here,” he growled, indicating for me to move to the edge of the bed.
I scrambled as fast as I could and sat where he pointed.
Waiting.
Wanting.
Needing.
His hands went to the bottom of my top and he lifted it over my head and dropped it on the floor. Then he knelt in front of me, again – oh God how I loved him kneeling in front of me, because it meant he was about to worship me - and cupped both my breasts through my bra.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself, almost as if he was as lost in the pleasure as much as I was. His fingers hooked over the edge of my bra cups and slid them to the side to free my breasts. And then he dipped his face and took one breast into his mouth, his warm lips sucking me, his tongue flicking over my skin.
I wound my fingers in his hair and moaned as my body arched towards him. He grunted his approval and continued his slow exploration of my breasts. Donovan didn’t often do sex slow and gentle like he was tonight. Usually he preferred it harder, rougher and a little faster, and while I loved that, this side of my man lit my body with desire in a whole other way.
It was delicious and sexy and divine.
Sacred between us.
In this space, we connected on a whole other level.
His touch whispered his feelings to me.
It spoke the words he couldn’t say out loud.
Revealed his soul in ways nothing else could.
My beautifully broken man had so much love to give and when he lavished it upon me in this way, I sent out prayers of thanks that I’d found him.
When he’d finished with my breasts, he undid my bra and removed it. His hands skimmed down my sides, over my hips and rested on my thighs for a moment. Looking up at me, he said, “I’ve struggled to think of anything but you today, sweetheart. Do you have any idea what you do to me? Any clue how wrapped up in you I am?” His husky voice spread goose bumps over my skin. Or perhaps it was his words that caused that.
I took hold of his face with both hands and kissed him. Long and deep. And then I answered him. “I think I have an idea of how you feel because I feel the same way, Donovan. It’s like you’re stalking my mind, always there in everything I do. And I spend every hour counting down the minutes until I get to see you again.”
His gaze had me trapped and he didn’t let me go. Those dark eyes of his reached inside, communicating wordless needs and desires to me. There were no words to describe the energy flowing between us in this moment; all we needed to do was feel.
“Fuck,” he growled as he stood. His movements were swift as he lifted me with him.
A moment later, he had me on my back on the bed while he positioned himself over me. Staring down at me, he said, “It’s going to be a long night, baby.” And before I could even form a thought in response to that, he thrust his cock inside me, and I realised my slow and gentle man was gone, and my hard and fast man had returned.
And I clung on for dear life.
His grunts filled the room, arousing me, his pace almost exhausting me. When we finally came, we came so hard I thought he might shatter me.
I continued to cling on to him.
I never wanted to let him go because even though he had the power to break me apart, I knew that wrapped in his embrace was where I needed to be.
Safe.
Protected.
Loved.
He held me for what felt a very long time before letting me go and pulling out of me. “You okay, baby?” he asked, his eyes tender – the complete opposite of the way he just fucked me.
I smiled. “Yeah, you just sent me somewhere though.” I wasn’t sure if he would understand, but I should have given him more credit. For his rough exterior and hard ways, Donovan was a deep man and felt things on a level that I’d never known another man to feel.
“I went there, too,” he admitted as he rolled onto his back. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he said, “Fuck, it’s been one of those days actually.”
Shifting on to my side, I propped myself up on my elbow and placed a hand on his chest. “Tell me,” I encouraged him softly.
His eyes found mine again and I saw the turmoil lurking, as it often was. His father still troubled him - Marcus’s ghost haunted him most days. And as much as he tried to deal with that in his own way, and avoided talking about it, some days it got too much for him and the only reprieve he could find was through discussing it with me. “I can’t get him out of my head. It’s like he’s lodged in my brain, always taunting me. Still giving me hell from the grave.”
“Why?” I had an idea but I wasn’t sure if I was on the right track so I needed to hear him say it before I gave him my thoughts.
A frown lined his forehead. “Baby, if I knew why, I could fix it and move the fuck on.”
“Donovan, a person only has power like that over us if we let them. And a dead person? That’s a lot of power for someone not even around anymore to have, so this is coming from you. What’s going on in that head of yours that’s allowing you to give your father that power?”
He stared at me, his eyes almost vacant, and I knew that meant he was thinking hard about what I’d said. Finally, he spoke. “I feel guilty. I’m watching my mother move on with her life, happier than I’ve ever seen her, finally putting herself first, and I feel fucking guilty that I didn’t take care of him sooner. I should have done more for her. I should have been there more for her and protected her better. I hate him for what he did to us and for what he did to his other family. And then, I watch Storm dealing with the fallout of his death and I feel guilty that I put them there.” He pushed up off the bed and stood. Shoving his hand through his hair, he blew out a long breath. “Either way I look at this, I fucked up.”
His words made my heart ache but I was glad he’d searched deep and found them. I left the bed and joined him. “You’re consumed with hate and guilt, and until you come to terms with those, he’s not going to leave you alone. You’re too damn hard on yourself. You take on and carry all this responsibility for those you love but it’s only hurting you. And they don’t want to see you hurting anymore so you’ve got to find a way to let it all go.”
His body was so tense, so tightly wound as he stood listening to what I said. “How do I do that, Layla? I’ve been looking out for people my entire life . . . I don’t know how to stop, and fuck, I don’t know if I want to stop. I need to know they’re okay.”
I gave him a smile. “You don’t have to stop looking out for them, Donovan. You just need to realise that not everything is going to go your way or their way.” I paused, and then added softly, “And you need to forgive yourself. The bad things that happen to the people you love are not your fault. You can’t control everything so don’t beat yourself up over that stuff.”
He took all that in but I knew it would take him a lot more than simply hearing what I’d said to act on it. All I could hope was that he would process it and, in time, find a healthy way to deal with it. Until then, I’d be here for him every step of the way, loving him and doing my best to soothe his pain.
Pulling me to him, he put his arms around me and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Thank Christ I
have you,” he murmured and then pulled back a little so he could see my eyes. “Promise me you’ll stick around, even if my shit gets too much.”
I placed my hand on his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, Donovan Brookes. That’s the only sure thing I know in this world.”
4
Chapter Four
Harlow
I stood at my kitchen counter, beating cake batter to make cakes for tomorrow’s party, listening to Lisa tell me about her day, and all I could think was ‘I can’t go to this Christmas party’. Dread filled me at the thought of having to face everyone, and answer their questions and see their sadness and try to explain myself and -
“Harlow!” Lisa pretty much yelled at me as she clicked her fingers in front of me. “Are you listening to me?”
Dragging my thoughts back to the conversation, I attempted to give her my full attention. Easier said than done these days. My attention didn’t want to be on anything these days; it wanted to sink as far into obscurity as it could.
“Sorry, honey. Can you say that again?” Lisa deserved more than what I could give her at the moment, and a pang of remorse hit me. I’ll do better.
She sighed in the way an adult sighs. It was so Lisa; so grown up for a child, but then again she was more mature than most children her age. Her mother saw to that. “I said that Scott is being so strange at the moment and I was wondering if you knew why.”
More remorse hit me and I switched the beater off so I could focus completely on the conversation. “In what way is he being strange?”
“So many ways!” Her voice rose and her eyes widened as she detailed it for me. Lisa loved Scott like a father and I could see how concerned she was for him. “Like, you know how the three of us usually go out for dinner every Thursday night? The last couple of weeks he’s been telling me you’re not well so you couldn’t make it to dinner, but you’re not sick, even I can tell that. And apart from Thursday nights, I’ve hardly seen him but then this week, I’ve seen him every day. And he’s been talking a lot, and I mean, a lot. Scott hardly talks, so it’s weird.”
My hand went to my chest to hold the heaviness there. Scott. He didn’t deserve any of this. My inability to deal with my loss was affecting him as much, if not more, than the loss of our baby. And as much as I knew this, and felt it – oh God, how I felt it – I couldn’t bring myself to work through this in any other way than I was.
“So?” Lisa put her hand on her hip and looked up at me expectantly. Her look said that she expected me to have the answers for her.
“What has he been saying?” I didn’t have the answers for her because Scott and I hadn’t been connecting. In fact, it seemed he was talking more to her than me at the moment, and I was interested to hear what he’d said.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Scott entered the kitchen at that moment and the sound of his heavy boots on the wood floor and his intense presence filled the room, distracting both of us. His eyes were focused on me when I found them, and a shiver ran through my body at the way he was watching me, at the way his stare demanded my attention. And I knew something had changed in him.
Turning to look at Lisa, he said, “Lisa, do you mind if I have some time with Harlow?”
Lisa frowned. “As in, you want me to go home?” She didn’t sound put out; she simply needed to know what he meant.
He nodded. “Yeah. I know you two were baking, but I need to speak with her now, and it can’t wait.”
“Sure,” she said with an easy smile and began taking steps toward the front door. Looking back at me, she asked, “Can we do some more baking on Sunday, Harlow? I want to make biscuits for Christmas presents and I need your help decorating them.”
“Sure, honey. I’ll be home all day so you come over when you’re ready,” I answered her with a smile and watched her leave. When I heard the front door close, I turned back to Scott with hesitation. I wasn’t sure I was ready for whatever he wanted to discuss. “How was your day?” I asked as my heart beat a little faster in my chest.
His eyes stayed trained on mine as he took a step closer to me. “I don’t want to talk about my day, Harlow,” he said. His voice caused my tummy to swirl with nerves – after months of him giving me space, his tone now told me he was done with that; it told me he was going to push me into a corner I didn’t think I wanted to go to.
“Well I’m interested to hear about it, Scott,” I replied while I busied myself with the cake batter. Scraping it off the beaters and down the side of the bowl seemed extremely important at that moment. It also gave me the opportunity to avoid his stare.
He closed the distance between us and placed his hand on mine, stilling it. His other hand tilted my chin to bring my eyes back to his, and I swallowed my nerves as he did that.
I’m not ready for this.
Ignoring my request to hear about his day, he said, “You’re coming to the party tomorrow, yeah?” It may have been posed as a question, but it was anything but a question. Scott Cole didn’t tend to give options when he didn’t want you to have any.
Taking a deep breath, I said softly, “I don’t think I can.”
A pin drop could have been heard in the moment that followed. Scott’s thoughts may have been silent, but they filled the room regardless, and from instinct alone, I took a step away from him. However, his instincts were always on high alert and his hand flicked out to curl around my waist and pull me back to him. When he had me where he wanted me, body to body, face close to mine, arm around me, he said, “Sweetheart, I’ve been tiptoeing around this for months, giving you space and time to work through your feelings. You’ve done a good job of avoiding me through all that, and I’ve let that go even though it damn near killed me to do it. You’ve also shut down and avoided your friends and your mother. I know you’re hurting and I know you’re grieving, but so am I.” He paused for a moment, his stare growing fiercer before adding, “I hate watching you go through this, but what I hate the most is watching you go through it alone. Let me in, baby; let me be there for you.”
One of my hands moved to the kitchen counter and I gripped it hard. Scott’s words floated in the air between us, and while I was processing those, the thing I couldn’t help but focus on was the way his voice had almost cracked on his last plea for me to let him help.
He’s hurting too.
Oh God…. Oh God, I don’t want to think about this.
Make it stop.
The room began to spin as the hurt choked me.
As my body crumbled, Scott’s strong arms scooped me up and he carried me into the living room. He placed me gently on the couch and I vaguely noticed him striding out of the room. I’d thought I would pass out but I hadn’t, and I clung to consciousness as I fought the overwhelming desire to close my eyes and run from the pain. I didn’t want to do this now, but some part of me obviously did, because that part was forcing me to stay in this moment with Scott.
A few moments later, he pressed a cold washer to my face as he gently pushed my hair out of my eyes. The tenderness in his touch reminded me of his love and that I’d avoided him for too long. His hands, his lips, his skin – I hadn’t felt them for months, and while I tried to want them, I struggled to force something I just wasn’t feeling. But I didn’t have to force my feelings of love for this man. My love hadn’t faltered; I still loved and wanted Scott as much as I’d ever loved and wanted him. I only hoped he could last the distance of my grief.
I looked up at his concerned face and placed my hand on his stubbled cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered.
If I thought the cracking of his voice earlier had upset me, the look he bestowed on me now, threatened to kill me. It was the kind of look a man wore when they were almost destroyed, but you’d given them a small sliver of hope.
My heart missed a beat and my first tear fell.
And then the avalanche began.
And my man didn’t let me down.
His arms came around me as he pulled me close, and his embrace reassured
me that maybe, just maybe, I’d survive this. That we’d survive this.
He held me for a long time while I cried. As much as I tried, I couldn’t stop the tears, and after awhile, I gave up trying. I simply let them fall. Scott’s ability to be patient with me, something he didn’t seem to have for anyone else, allowed me to breathe through this moment without feeling like I had to hurry myself along. When my tears finally subsided, I wiped my face and lifted my head. “Thank you,” I said, the same two words I’d said to him earlier. Two words that didn’t seem enough to convey everything I was feeling for him in this moment.
As he let me go, one of his hands cupped the back of my head, and his fingers tangled in my hair. “You never have to thank me,” he said gruffly and I realised again how affected he was by all this.
I nodded and shifted into a sitting position, my back to the arm of the couch and my legs crossed in front of me. Scott leant back against the couch, angling his body to face mine. He placed his hand on my knee and the warmth of his touch spread through me. It bolstered me enough to dig deep in my heart as I attempted to share a piece of myself with him; a piece I knew he wanted. “I don’t know how to move past this, and I don’t know how to drag you along with me while I figure it out.” My heart beat faster in my chest as I laid my soul out for him, and my voice grew softer as I kept baring it. “I feel like I’m drowning, Scott… and I don’t want you to drown with me.”
His gaze remained steady on mine. “I’m gonna drown either way, sweetheart. I’d rather drown with you than by myself.”
I gulped back my heartache and reached for his hand. Entwining our fingers, I looked down at them as his loyalty and dependability washed over me. The day I’d met Scott Cole would be a day I’d forever be thankful for. Finding his eyes again, I said, “This isn’t going to be easy and I know I’m going to screw it up, probably just as much as I already have, but I promise you I’ll try.” I don’t want you to drown.