by Leddy Harper
Picking myself up off the floor was the easy part. Walking out of the room proved slightly more difficult. But nothing—and I mean nothing—came close to how hard it was to move through the room, between the bodies, the smiling faces, the laughter and overall happiness, and not find him. He was lost to me. Just as I’d been lost to him. And for the first time, I fully understood how it had made him feel.
“Hey, Indi…do you by chance know where Brogan went?” I stopped the inked bombshell on her way to the bar. “I’ve looked all over, and I can’t find him.”
She appeared hesitant at first, which did nothing but make my lungs deflate and choke me. But when her eyes met mine, compassion painted her brow in subtle creases that softened her jawline. “He, uh…he left, honey. I don’t know where he went, but he asked me to handle the event just before he walked out.”
Right then, something inside me snapped.
I felt disconnected. Like a kite without a string. A boat without an anchor. Disoriented. In that moment, I realized that, without Brogan, I was a compass without direction—nothing more than a dial with no magnetic pull to anything. Lost.
Utterly fucking lost.
“Thanks, Indi.” I wasn’t sure she’d heard me, but I also didn’t care. She wasn’t the one who needed my words. She wasn’t the person who deserved to hear my voice. My gratitude. My apologies.
Those were reserved for Brogan.
There was only one thing left to do.
I grabbed my keys and the flowers that sat next to them on the reception desk and ran out as fast as my heels would allow.
Sitting behind the steering wheel with my eyes closed, I tried to clear the fear and doubt from my mind. I trusted that if I could just wipe away my own ego, I’d know where to go. I’d know what to do. But the deeper I breathed, the worse it became. The voice in my head grew louder, telling me I’d ruined everything.
Out of all the literature Brogan had given me to read about mirrored souls, the one thing I truly took away from it was the need to separate what I thought should be from what was. Just letting it happen the way it was meant to.
That wasn’t easy. Possibly one of the hardest things to do.
So, I pulled the flowers to my nose and inhaled, hoping that if I had something to actually smell, it might help to distract the negativity, allowing the uncertainty and trepidation to fade and make way for trust. But as I did that, something hard and sharp hit my cheek.
The sign I’d asked for.
A card.
I hadn’t noticed it when he gave me the bouquet earlier. Now, I couldn’t tear into the envelope fast enough. Couldn’t pull the note out quick enough. And once I had it open in front of me, I couldn’t read his words slow enough.
"Save me and have me, fix me and I’m yours"
With her words burning in my mind I tried,
I took from me, gave to her and left myself a broken shell,
I stripped all I could spare and more besides
As I emptied myself into Mercy
I doubted I’d taken a breath between reading another piece of his heart and pulling down the driveway to the garage. It wasn’t until I found his Jeep parked inside that my nerves settled and my stomach unclenched.
There wasn’t a single piece of the drive home that I could recall. The lights on the highway had been a blur, the hum of the tires on the road nothing but white noise droning on in the background. I’d raced home, trusting my gut that he’d be there. And he was.
Now…I only had to get to him.
I left my purse and flowers abandoned on the seat beside me. My shoes on the floorboard. And, with the card held tightly in my grasp for fear of someone stealing his words, I climbed the steep steps from the garage to the house.
Once I made it inside, it didn’t take me long to find him. I heard his bedroom door close about two seconds after I’d shut the one leading in from the garage. And without worrying about changing my clothes or what I’d say, I went to him.
I didn’t knock. Didn’t announce my presence. I simply flung open the door and stepped inside. He stood on the other side of the room, in track pants, next to the bed. Shirtless. Looking like a god in inked flesh. The sight alone stopped me just inside the doorway. But even if it hadn’t, the way he stared at me with broken eyes would have.
“What are you doing, Mercy?” His voice was empty. Hollow. No longer filled with untold secrets and promises.
I held up the card, as if that somehow meant anything. “I read what you wrote.”
“And?”
I’d had a rather long drive from his shop in the city to his house in the boonies, yet I hadn’t spent one second of it contemplating what I would say when I reached him. If I had, I might’ve come up with something better than, “Why is it so easy for you to tell me all this, but you can’t even say you love me?”
“What does it matter? Love is a given, Mercy. I’ve loved you since before I found you on that sidewalk. Just like I don’t need to hear you say it, because I know that you’ve loved me since you took your first breath. Saying it doesn’t change anything. If you would stop overthinking it all, you’d realize that you’ve felt my love for you all along.”
I stood there, silent and awkward, desperately holding back tears. The need to cry was almost unbearable, as if emotion filled me so full I couldn’t contain it all. I’d never, in all my life, felt anything close to this. It was overwhelming, to say the least.
“Listen, Mercy…” He closed his eyes and quickly shook his head. “I’ve had a long day, and I’m tired. We can discuss this tomorrow. Right now, all I want to do is climb into bed. If you would like to join me, you’re more than welcome—but don’t forget the rule.” He dropped his pants and kicked them to the side, standing completely naked in front of me. He’d said since the first night I’d slept in his bed that clothes weren’t optional. “If not, then please close the door on your way out.”
Brogan sat on the edge of the mattress with his back to me. While he fiddled with the cords on the nightstand, plugging in his phone, I took in his hunched shoulders and curved spine. I’d somehow taken a man who walked ten feet tall and cut him off at the knees. All because I’d denied him one thing—confirmation that he completed every part of me.
We were playing with fire.
And I wanted to get burned.
To be so consumed with his heat that I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t see or speak or hear or…live without it. So, I did the one thing that would guarantee it. I stepped toward the door.
12
Brogan
The second the door clicked shut, I knew I’d lost her.
I’d expected this, tried to prepare for it, and still, it hurt all the same. If I was right about us, about what we had, then I had to trust she’d come back. I wouldn’t know how or when, but she would always come back.
I pulled the chain on the lamp next to me, shrouding the room in darkness, and then slid beneath the covers. The pillows didn’t need near as much fluffing as I gave them, but it was the only way to expel some of this anguish and madness that surged within me. I’d contemplated going after her, but I couldn’t. It wouldn't do any good. It would only exacerbate my hostility, and I couldn’t afford much more of that right now. So instead, I lay there, staring at the ceiling and wishing someone would give me answers. Guidance. A fucking flashlight at the very least.
Then I got exactly what I’d asked for.
The covers on the other side of the bed flipped back, and a body slid in beside me. Lavender permeated the air, leaving no doubt whatsoever in my mind as to who was in bed with me. Still, I turned on the lamp, needing to see her to believe it.
With the room bathed in light, I turned to face her, propped on my elbow. Ignoring the undeniable fact that she was naked—or at least topless—beneath the covers, I stared into her eyes and prayed this meant what I hoped it did.
“I’m not playing games, Mercy. If you don’t intend to stay in my bed from here on out,
then I suggest you go back to your room. I won’t share you. If you’re in my bed, then you’re mine. Not his. No questions. No games. No more doubt or excuses.”
My lungs burned as I held my breath. I refused to get excited, knowing how badly it would hurt to have it stripped away. So I waited, feeling the milliseconds drag on for what seemed like hours. Days. Eons upon eons while the silence in the room rang in my ears, my heartbeat creating the bass in this tragic symphony of despair.
She pressed her warm palm against my chest, filling me with heat and hope and fear.
“I’m yours, Brogan. I’m not going anywhere.” Her words were lyrics written to my soul.
The dam broke, and I grabbed her waist, pulling her beneath me. “Say that again.”
“I’m yours.”
I claimed her mouth for the final time, knowing no one would ever touch these lips again. No other man alive would understand what it felt like to kiss heaven, for heaven was mine. And when we both needed to breathe, I gave my attention to the rest of her, starting with her neck.
I’d only needed to trace the spot beneath her ear with my tongue one time to know the whimper it pulled from her. I was fully aware of what it did to her when I kissed along her collarbone to the hollow space in the middle. And how she’d dig her nails into my biceps as I tasted the heated skin just above her breast on my way up to the other side of her neck.
“Brogan. Please.” Her plea was raspy and desperate.
Opening my mouth, I raked my teeth along her sensitive flesh down the curve of her shoulder, all while sliding my cock through her slick folds. She was turned on and ready. And hell, so was I. But there was no way I’d hurry this along. Not when I’d waited a lifetime to get her here again. Instead, I squeezed her hip, digging my fingertips into the soft meat of her ass, and hoped that would ground me for now.
“Please what, babe? What do you need?” I rolled my hips, hitting her clit with the silver ball on the underside of my dick, right below the crown. Her moan made me do it again. “Tell me, Mercy…please what?”
“I need you. Now.”
I inched myself down her body, just enough to place my mouth between her breasts. With my lips barely meeting her skin, I chuckled—the taunting kind of laughter that would rile her. “Not yet. Not until I’m done admiring what’s mine.”
Then I turned my head to the left, held her stare, and covered her nipple with my mouth. I smiled when she gasped and threw her head back into the pillow. I never took my eyes off her while flicking the hardening peak with my tongue. Once I had her panting, desperate, hungry for more, I moved to the other side. And when she was needy for more, I pinched her nipple between my teeth, knowing precisely what she would do next.
A cry ripped through her chest as she threaded her fingers into my hair, tugging on the strands until the roots pulled taut at my scalp. Her eyes met mine; her thighs clenched at my sides. Then she rocked her pelvis against me, seeking what she craved most. But I wasn’t ready to give in. It didn’t matter how hard I was. How eager I was. How badly I wanted to bury myself in her, allow her heat to light me up…I wasn’t done appreciating her body. It had been so long, and I’d imagined this moment a thousand times over while she kept me waiting.
Against her protests, I continued my way down her stomach, stopping briefly to trail my tongue around her navel before kissing the soft spot above her trimmed hairline. She bucked her hips, seeking out my mouth. And I smiled. “Not yet, babe.”
“We can do all this the next time. I need you, Brogan. Please, baby. Just fuck me.” Mercy knew exactly what those words did to me. She was the only woman who had ever been able to make me give in by saying those three words. Just fuck me.
But not this time.
I moved my attention to her left leg, starting with her inner thigh while trailing my fingertips along the crease below her ass cheek to the sensitive spot right above the bend in her knee. By the time I made it to her ankle, I had to hold her down with my hand against her pussy to keep her from moving so much. She began to rock herself against my palm. I could feel how wet she was, and how hot her body had become against the heel of my hand. If I didn’t hurry this up, she wouldn’t wait for me.
There was something intoxicating about that. About knowing she was so hard up for me that she couldn’t wait another minute, let alone another second. And as much as I wanted to continue up the other leg, I couldn’t.
Taking her by surprise and pulling a yelp from her throat, I hooked my arms beneath her thighs and covered her sex with my mouth, flattening my tongue against her heat to taste her arousal. I could drink her all day. Every day. Get drunk off her juices and never be sober.
My dick throbbed and my balls ached, but I continued. I needed her, probably more than I’d ever needed anything or anyone in my life. I flicked her clit with my tongue, and she reared her hips toward my mouth. She gripped the sides of my head and ground her pussy against my face. When her cries became indecipherable, I knew she was on the edge. The second she tugged on my hair, I didn’t bother questioning what she meant. I didn’t care to ask questions or drag this out any longer. I pulled myself over her and tasted her lips. Her tongue. Making her taste herself on mine while I ran the crown of my dick through her folds, painting her clit with my precum. And the moment she parted her lips to take a breath, I pushed into her.
As soon as I was buried inside, balls deep, I didn’t wait before I slid almost all the way out and slammed into her again. Over and over. Never letting her catch her breath. Her nails raked over my ribs, digging into my flesh. Likely breaking the skin as she clawed at me. She’d done that before, but I didn’t mind. After all, I’d marred her body with bruises from my hands, my fingers, and love bites from my teeth. We’d branded each other and wore the marks with pride. I’d never been with anyone as passionate as I was in the bedroom.
Mercy Wright was my match.
My equal.
And I’d never be able to get enough.
I held her by the nape of her neck and pulled her closer. There was something about making her watch as I moved in and out of her that turned me on. However, not nearly as much as when she grabbed my shoulders to bring her face closer to mine, kissing me as if staking her claim. Marking her territory.
Owning me.
And just when I thought I couldn’t handle any more, she pushed against the mattress, throwing me off balance until I rolled over. Then she held herself upright, straddling me, pressing her hands on my chest. Riding me. Her head tilted back. Her neck on display. Her hips rolling, rocking, back and forth as she rode me with wild abandon.
“Fuck, babe.” My raspy voice gave away the desperation that ran through me.
But it seemed to spur Mercy on. Rather than speed up her movements, she peered down at me, a wicked grin lining her sexy lips. She knew she had me. And this was her way of informing me that she was in control. “Not yet, baby. Not until I’m done enjoying what’s mine.”
I grabbed one thigh and flipped her over. I slid off the side to stand next to the bed, pulled her to the edge, and filled her once again. “I’m yours for the next hundred lifetimes, Mercy. You’ll have more than enough time to enjoy it. But right now, I need to see you come for me.”
With my thumb against her clit, I increased the pace. Skin against skin. Hips against hips. It was all too much, yet not nearly enough. Using her legs around my waist, she pulled me into her, meeting me thrust for thrust. Showing me that she was just as much a part of this as I was. She was in it with me. Right there with me. A participant, a partner in every sense of the word.
“Babe. I can’t… I don’t know if I can hold on. I need you—” I didn’t have to say anything else. Right then, she tightened around me, and her breathing became heavy and ragged. Two seconds later, I followed, emptying myself into her.
Even though I could barely stand, I slipped my arm beneath her back, moved her up the mattress, and then collapsed next to her. As I lay there, tangled in her, I traced the lines of the
tattoo I’d put on her ribs, making her squirm.
“Why is your name Mercy?”
She turned her head to the side to look in my eyes. “Why do you think?”
“Because your parents just liked it?”
“Wrong again.” She squinted as if studying me and took in a full breath. “Does your nickname not bother you?”
“Not really. Should it?”
She moved her attention to the ceiling, quiet and contemplative. “I just can’t imagine going my whole life having people call me something that means incorrect. A mistake. Immoral or sinful.” She rolled her head to the side again, meeting my stare once more. “I don’t know how you’re okay with having a nickname that means corrupt, depraved.”
“We can’t all be right, can we? We can’t all have names that mean correct. Honest. Righteous and moral. But maybe that’s the point. Without a right, you don’t have a wrong. Without you, I would just…be. I’d have no meaning. No purpose.” I ran my fingertips along her face, across her brow, around her jawline. “Without you, I’d be without mercy. And I think that’s worse than not having a definition.”
Her cheeks glowed crimson as her smile took over her face. Then her eyes met mine, and in them, I found confirmation for everything I’d felt since the moment we met. If love had a color, it’d be a deep, rich topaz. If love had a scent, it’d smell like an endless field of lavender.
Love was compassionate, kind, and sympathetic.
By definition…love was Mercy.
I had slept next to Mercy for six nights, even though I’d only needed one to know I never wanted to sleep without her again. Then I’d gone to bed alone for the next month—half of that time Mercy was on the other side of the house. But after being tangled up in her all last night, it was as if every lonely evening without her never existed.
And nothing beat waking up, rolling over, and wrapping my arms around a naked Mercy first thing in the morning.