And yet I just keep falling, pulled by the magnet that will forever bind us together.
Lust.
Need.
And now our son.
“I should check on Nolan,” I say, remembering it isn’t just the two of us here.
His expression is strained, but he nods. “I’ll go.”
I watch his back as he leaves the room, wrapping my arms around myself as ice and fire surge through my veins. I’m still trying to process everything that’s happened.
I’d ran from two men when I left, and I swear the fates are laughing at me now, forcing me to face them both. To choose between fear and hope, hate and love, blame and forgiveness.
Choose love, my heart riots in my chest, crashing tambourines and screaming like a banshee to get my attention.
I want to.
I want all those things.
Hope.
Love.
Forgiveness.
But I’ve been living so long in the darkness of fear, stepping into the light is...blinding. The constant thud of worry bangs in my chest. It’s an old friend. One that will be hard to say goodbye to.
I follow Damon into the living room, stopping when I see Nolan in his arms, his lanky limbs limp, his beautiful eyes closed in a deep sleep.
“I’ll put him down.” Damon moves past me, down the hall, and I can’t help but go with him, standing in the doorway as he lays our son in bed. I watch his throat bob with emotion as he places the comforter over Nolan’s legs, then lays a hand on his forehead.
He stays there for a long moment, caught up in his thoughts–or maybe memorizing every one of Nolan’s features, I don’t know. But I see the adoration for a boy he barely knows.
Tears prick at my eyes. Guilt chokes me, mixing with grief for all the years he lost with him–because of me.
I can’t help the stupid tears that fall, and I don’t have time to wipe them away before Damon looks over and sees me.
He stands, turning the light off and pulling me into the hallway, shutting Nolan’s door behind him. His hands cup the back of my head, and he leans forward, his dark eyes searching.
“I’m sorry.” I choke on the words because every excuse I’d ever had of not telling him about Nolan seems meaningless now.
“You did what you had to do. I get that. We both made mistakes.”
“What if I keep making them? I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“This. Us.”
“We’ll figure it out together. Believe in me, Lor.”
Love doesn’t hurt. Expectations do.
I let out a shaky breath, unable to answer.
He kisses my forehead and says, “You must be exhausted. Why don’t you go start a bath? I’ll pour you a glass of wine.”
Always thinking, always thoughtful. I’d held on to his hurtful words for so long, I’d forgotten all the good in him. The good that is him. Because Damon Savage has always been just that...good. A protector. A hero. A man who fights for what he wants and those he loves.
“Love you, Lorelei,” he’d told me all those years ago. “Going to make you my wife one day.”
We’d laid out on the bow of the old boat, fingers entwined, sunlight warming our skin, his words warming my soul. I wanted so badly to believe him. To believe I could have all the things he offered.
But girls like me didn’t get happy endings. They got stepfathers like Farkas who would do everything in their power to banish any chance of happiness.
“You can’t even tell anyone about us,” I’d said, twisting onto my stomach and staring out at the horizon. “We’re like this great tragic love story that doesn’t have a happy ending.”
It was only out there that we could be together. To share our secrets. Open our souls.
“That’s bullshit. I know your stepdad is...”
“A narcissistic criminal who’d kill you if he found out about us.”
“I was going to say intimidating,” he’d chuckled. “But he can’t stop us from being together.”
He had no idea how wrong he was.
“Even if I could tell him, I hear what people say about me. Even your family–”
“Only because they don’t know you.” He’d tucked a tendril of hair behind my ear. “You don’t let anyone know you.”
“You do.”
He’d grinned at me. “Yeah, I do. And I love everything about you.”
I’d loved him, too. But I couldn’t say it back. Fear held my tongue.
He’d rolled me over, his thigh wedging between mine, grinning down at me as the sun behind his head created a halo, making him look like an angel, or a god. And, to me, he was. So full of goodness. He’d made me believe there was more than just darkness and shadows lurking in the corners, or predators waiting to devour.
“Say it.” He’d nipped at my bottom lip.
“What?”
“Tell me you love me, Lor.”
I’d nipped him back, grinning up at him, wiggling underneath his weight. “I like you a little.”
“Brat.” He was already hard, his cock pressing against my belly. “One day you’ll tell me.”
“Don’t hold your breath, Savage,” I’d teased.
“What are you afraid of?”
“Getting hurt.”
“Love doesn’t hurt.”
“But expectations do.” I couldn’t expect anything more from him than that moment. Couldn’t let another person have that much power over me.
He’d turned moody then, and even when he’d taken me, I could feel the hurt that pushed him. But I was protecting him. At least, I thought I was. Because even then I knew there was no future where the two of us could be together.
No world where that beautiful man could be mine.
I turn the bath on and sit on the edge of the ceramic tub, lost in my thoughts, letting the warm water run over my hand.
A shadow falls over me, and I glance up as Damon walks in, holding a glass of white wine. I turn the tap off.
“I’ll leave it here,” he says, placing it on the counter. “Take your time. I’ve got some calls to make, and–”
“Damon.” Standing, I swallow the nerves that race up my throat. “Don’t go.”
Surprise pulls at his brows, before his gaze turns heavy, almost fierce in the intensity of it.
I have to remember to breathe.
But the man is bigger than life. A wall of muscle. His presence is dominating and yet protective. Unshakable.
How could I not feel safe with him?
Give in to him?
Every muscle in his body is held in restraint, but I can see his self-control wavering. Need pulses through the silence between us. So many things left unsaid.
He steps forward, a question in his eyes. Just one.
What do you want?
Words are useless. They’d only get in the way. So, I show him.
Standing on tiptoes, I frame his face with my palms and pull his mouth down to mine.
He sucks in a breath before returning the kiss.
Soft.
Gentle.
The ripple I feel pass through him, the mounting need that is almost palpable between us, it clutches every cell in my body, unable to let go.
I have a feeling he’s holding back. Afraid to break me.
But I am already broken.
I run my hand down his chest, finding the hem of his shirt, then slipping my hands underneath. His skin is warm, and his muscles twitch under my touch.
“Lor,” he mutters roughly against my mouth.
“I need this,” I whisper back.
He hesitates, but it’s just a brief pause before I feel the dam of his self-control burst.
His kiss turns hungry, feral, and my own hunger explodes through me.
I’m trembling, shaking against him, my legs ready to give out on me, but I know Damon won’t let me fall.
His tongue strokes against mine, desperate and primal, and I sense the need there seems to
be no escape from. Neither time or distance has diminished the hunger and the want. If anything, it has only intensified it.
My fingers curl in the material of his shirt, needing nothing between us.
He reaches behind, tugging at it and pulling it over his head.
Intricate patterns of ink cover his arms and chest.
A whimper leaves me.
The man is wickedly gorgeous.
His hands slide down my arms, my back, over my ass, gripping me and jerking me closer, pulling me against the hard length of his erection. It presses into my stomach, hard and thick.
He nips at my bottom lip, the day’s growth of beard an erotic rasp against my jaw, my neck, everywhere he kisses me.
“I need this, too,” he says roughly, his hands edging under my shirt, then pulling it over my head. His fingers work the button and zipper of my jeans, callused palms scraping over my flesh as he drags them down, lifting one leg then the other as I step out of them.
“So fucking perfect,” he groans, crouching in front of me, his hands running up my thighs, a rasping of sensations that has my clit throbbing.
Hooking his thumbs in my thong, he slowly drags the material down, and I whimper, my fingers curling in his hair.
The anticipation is too much, an aching torment that builds, burning through my whole body.
Even the lace of my bra scratching against my sensitive nipples is too much. I unlock the clasp, and let it slide to the floor with the rest of my clothes.
“God, Lor.” His voice is rough, strained as he looks up me, his eyes dark with lust as he stands.
His arms wrap around me again, lifting me. My legs wrap around his waist as he presses me against the wall.
I gasp at the sensation of his skin against my bare pussy.
Between us, his fingers curve, cupping me, and I whimper against his lips when his thumb strokes my clit. It throbs, and I feel the sensitive folds slick and hot with need, ready for him.
My head rolls back as he sinks a finger inside me, then a second one, stroking and rubbing the sensitive flesh, dragging a cry from my throat.
“Oh God.”
His fingers stretch me, stroke me, thrusting inside with just enough intensity to build my desperation, but not enough to push me over the edge.
My juices gather around his fingers, pleasure flaming, my mind blank of everything but him. He kisses me with a greedy hunger that matches my own.
“Damon, please, I need more.” I need him inside me, filling me.
He pulls back slightly, searing me with dark eyes that have always seen me. And right now, I see him. The wildness of his response. The need to protect me.
The love.
God, I have to look away, because it’s too much.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I manage to, but so many emotions blister between us.
Raw.
Ragged.
“You’re mine, Lor.”
I swallow the words stuck in my throat.
“Tell me you know that.”
“I...” Can’t answer, all I can do is breathe.
His chest rising and falling hard, he presses his forehead to mine. “I swear to God, this stops now unless you tell me you know you belong here.”
“I know,” I whimper.
His fingers move again, thrusting into my pussy and making my hips jerk forward, desperate to be closer.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he growls, his lips on my neck, words vibrating across my flesh.
“I’m yours.” My body explodes then, arching, shaking with the rush of flames that tear through my body violently.
Damon holds me as I cry out, spiraling physically and emotionally, but unafraid, knowing he would be there to catch me.
I’m yours, my heart cries out as the final pulses of my orgasm throb around his fingers.
Barely aware he’s carrying me, I feel the warmth of the mattress as he places me gently in the middle of the bed. He hovers above me and works his pants off, then stands at the edge of the bed, gloriously naked.
Powerful muscles beneath toughened flesh. Covered in ink and sculpted in strength and brawn. Cut and carved in perfection.
My chest squeezes and my heart expands.
Oh God.
This man.
Beautiful.
Magnificent.
And mine.
It’s too much to believe. Too much to hope for. But here he is.
His cock strains towards me, thick and hard, the head dark and throbbing.
He eases onto the bed. “I want to take my time, sweetheart, but...”
“I know.”
We’ve waited so long. Too long.
Gripping the base of his cock, he strokes it, watching me. “I’ll try to be gentle.”
“I don’t want gentle.” I want the unhinged hunger I see in his eyes.
He groans, guiding the engorged head against my entrance.
I grip his biceps as he fills me, my gaze locked with his. His thickness stretches me, his hard shaft penetrating fully as my hips meet his. I could stay like this forever. Nothing separating us. Bodies and hearts locked.
Heat spirals, a wicked vortex of need pushing us both.
I cling to him, and a needy moan passes my lips. The man is massive, shoulders wide, and I feel small against him.
But more, I feel safe.
He jerks his hips, thrusting harder, and pleasure tears through my womb.
Damon’s lips cover me as he moves with a primal rhythm that sears my senses. I meet each stroke, my own need mounting again.
I’m so close to coming again. I can feel my orgasm just out of reach.
“Lorelei.” My name sounds torn from his lips, tortured, and the roughness of it has my heart clenching.
Ecstasy thunders.
Pleasure bolts.
And fire ripples, dancing across my skin. The sensation is so vivid, so lush, so incredibly real that I feel intoxicated by it. Consumed by it. A rebirth. A renewal. A reclaiming. My senses are overloaded. And I swear in the moment my orgasm peeks, I lose consciousness for a moment.
Damon thrusts one more time, and his body goes rigid as he spills inside me. I can feel the hot, deep spurts of his release in my womb.
We hadn’t used protection.
It was stupid. And irresponsible. A repeat of a mistake I’d made so many years ago. But right now, nothing matters. Maybe it will in the morning when the pleasure has worn off. When my mind isn’t clouded by emotions.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” His arms are around me, his body holding me like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
And even though I know it’s only an illusion, I feel safe.
I close my eyes, snuggling into him. Silence swims between us. The air is dense with it, with hope and sunshine and promises that were impossible to keep when the ugliness of the world reared its head.
But here with him, there are no monsters, only tenderness and solace...and expectations.
What would it hurt to let the dream last a little longer?
Chapter 13
Damon
I wake with a start, my heart racing, feeling someone watching me. But a quick glance around the bedroom tells me no one is there. Only Lorelei, who’s still fast asleep, nestled in my arms, her face serene and unaware of the presence I feel.
The sun is just rising, the dim light casting shadows, but we’re alone, and my cock twitches at the sight of her.
So damn beautiful.
I inhale her scent. Intoxicating. I want to bury my face in the sweetness of her skin. Get lost in her body. A repeat of last night.
The floorboards creak outside my room, and I catch a shadow move behind the door.
Fuck.
I’m out of bed in a flash, grabbing the baseball bat that leans beside the bed. But when I open the door, I freeze.
Nolan stands there, face twisted in confusion.
Shit.
At least I’d had the common sense to pul
l on a pair of sweats last night after Lorelei and I had been together, or this would have been a hell of a lot more awkward.
“Hey, buddy. It’s early, what are you doing up?” I close the bedroom door, hoping not to wake Lorelei, then place the bat down.
“I was hungry.” He’s still frowning up at me, suspicion in his dark eyes, and maybe accusation.
I place a hand on his head and lead him to the kitchen. “How about I make us some eggs and bacon?”
He just nods, and when he sits down at the table, I can feel the kid watching me as I pull out pans, then open the fridge.
“Did you and my mom have sex?”
I cough, nearly dropping the carton of eggs in my hand.
He leans with his chin and hands on the table, watching me with the same uncertainty I feel.
“There are some things we need to talk about, bud.” I scrub a palm over my face, then pull out the bottle of orange juice Quinn brought over and pour two glasses, setting one in front of him.
Warily, he says, “It’s okay if you had sex.”
I’m mid sip of my own juice and nearly choke.
This was not the conversation I imagined waking up to.
“Just...” His brows pinch together, and I can see him struggling with something. “Just be nice to her, okay?”
My chest squeezes.
I pull out the chair opposite him and sit down. “You’ve been the man of the house for a long time now.”
He nods.
“You’ve done a good job. But you know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think it’s not your job to worry about your mom. Think you can let me do that from now on?”
He chews on the inside of his lip, thinking. “What if the bad guys come again?”
“Then I’ll keep you safe.”
“With your gun?”
And my fists, and whatever weapon I need to use in order to destroy anyone who tries to hurt my family.
My family.
My gut churns with awareness.
“You said...” He taps his fingers on the table, and I see the wheels turning behind his eyes. “You knew my mom when she was a kid.”
“Not as young as you, but yeah, I knew her before.”
“Before I was born.”
I nod, having a feeling where this is going, but then unprepared for the turn the conversation takes.
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