by T. K. Leigh
“Jesus,” I grind out as I run a hand over my face. I draw in a deep breath to calm myself, but it doesn’t work. Nothing can erase the picture in my mind, causing my blood to boil.
“His mistake was loosening the grip he had on my wrists when he ran his hand up my thigh and…touched me.”
I clench my fists, a pain unlike any I’ve experienced repeatedly jabbing me like a knife to my heart. Still, it’s nothing remotely close to what Londyn endured that day. Hell, every day for the past five-and-a-half years.
“I never should have allowed you to be in that position, Lo.”
“This isn’t your fault, Wes.” She grabs my hands again, brushing her fingers over my knuckles, offering me the reassurance I should be giving her right now. “I don’t want you to think it is. I’m the one who kept the truth from you. I’m the one who thought it was a good idea to talk to Julia. And he’s the one who tackled me to the floor. He expected the same girl I was back then. But thanks to you, I’m not that same girl. Back then, I had nothing to fight for. I do now. So that’s what I did. Instead of giving in, I fought with everything I had. I fought for you. For us.”
The corner of her mouth quirks up into a small smile, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
“You saved me, Wes. You gave me the strength to break free from him. And when he knocked the gun out of my grip, you gave me the strength to not only retrieve it, but also make sure the barrel wasn’t pointed in my direction when it went off. For that, I’ll always be eternally grateful. You gave me something to fight for.”
I look down at our joined hands, my heart full of an emotion that’s so much bigger and more poignant than love. But I don’t have another word for it.
“I love you, Lo.”
“I know you do. And in my darkest moment, when I was ready to give in, it was your love that pushed me to fight. To survive. And that’s what I need to do now. Survive.”
Pulling her hands from mine, she reaches into her purse and withdraws the velvet box I’d left her earlier today. She stares at it, seemingly torn. My throat tightens, chest squeezing as I plead with her to keep it. To return it to her bag.
But she doesn’t.
With a tear-filled gaze, she holds the box toward me. “I want you to have this back.”
My shoulders fall, an anguish unlike anything I thought possible rolling over me like a wave, drowning me, making it difficult to breathe. I knew it was a long shot to convince her to keep going, especially considering Sawyer can offer her something I can’t. I’d simply hoped our love was strong enough.
“And for you to hold onto it,” she adds.
I fling my eyes to her. “Hold onto it?”
“Yes.” She treats me to a brilliant smile. “When this is all over, I want the proposal you promised me the other night. If that’s still what you want,” she adds quickly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’m still technically married to Sawyer. I should have. I just… I wanted to move on from my past, and if I’m being honest, the thought of facing him in court frightened me.”
“I don’t care about that.” I cup her cheek, my grip tight, my stare intense. “All I care about is having your present.”
“And it’s yours, Wes.” She curves into me, her mouth close to mine, sending a spark through me. “I choose you, Wes. I choose to fight. I choose to survive. For you.”
“No, Lo. Not for me. This time, you’re fighting for you.”
“And for us,” she declares with determination.
“For us.”
“Us,” she says again, inching closer, anticipation coursing through my veins.
When she’s a whisper away and I can almost taste her kiss, she stops, a slight smile playing on her full lips.
“Is this okay?” she murmurs.
I can’t help but chuckle lightly at the reminder of our very first kiss all those months ago. But this time, our roles are reversed.
“Yes,” I say, a teasing quality to my tone.
“Good.” Edging toward me, her mouth touches the corner of mine, the contact as light as a breeze. When she pulls back, I groan, desperate to feel her, to have her, to consume her. But I also want this to last. Want to stay in this moment when it’s just us. No past. No future. Only us. Only this love.
She creeps back toward me, her lips covering mine in a fuller kiss. But it’s still not deep enough, still not enough to satisfy this insane craving coursing through me.
“Is this okay?” she asks, her mouth still hovering over mine.
“Yes,” I exhale breathily.
She places her hand on my shoulder and brings her body on top of mine, straddling me. Desire settles deep in my belly when her warmth wraps around me, causing me to harden even more. Pulling back, she locks her eyes with mine, her tight ringlets creating a cocoon around us, shielding us from the real world, blocking out any negativity.
“Is this okay?” She circles her hips against me.
I place my hands on her waist as I lose myself in her. “God yes.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Londyn
I slam my mouth against Wes’, not a single ounce of hesitation in the way I coax his lips open, begging for entry. Begging for him. He’s only too happy to allow me in. To give me what I need, what I crave, what I demand.
When my tongue slides against his for the first time in days, peace washes over me, all my worry about whether this is the right path disappearing. Like Gampy said, “Sometimes the right path isn’t always the easiest.” The path I’ve chosen certainly won’t be easy. But in my heart, I know this is the one I’m meant to travel. With Wes by my side. And there’s no question in my mind that he’ll be by my side every step of the way. That even if I try to push him away, he won’t stop fighting for me. He won’t stop supporting me. He won’t stop choosing me.
It’s time I finally choose me, too.
Panting, he breaks our kiss, twisting a hand around my hair. His unshaven jawline scrapes against my skin as he trails desperate kisses along my mouth, the roughness reinvigorating me.
“Wes…,” I moan through my labored breaths.
“Yes, honeybee?” he replies, pulling away for a beat before returning his attention to my neck, his teeth and tongue two of the most delicious torture devices I’ve ever known. The things this man can do with a quick nip followed by a little suck should be illegal.
I turn my blazing eyes toward his. “Take me to bed.”
His lips quirk into a mischievous smile. “Gladly.”
Swiftly, he flips me off his body and onto my back. He hovers over me for a beat, making no attempt to hide his need tenting his sweatpants. Then, as if I weigh nothing, he scoops me into his arms, rushing through his house and taking the stairs two at a time.
After crossing the threshold into the master bedroom, he carefully lowers me to my feet, then steps back and admires me as the atmosphere shifts from sexy and playful to deep and poignant. He cups my cheek, and I relish in the warmth of his flesh against mine.
“I love you.”
He’s said these three words to me countless times. But after everything we’ve endured this week, they mean so much more than they ever have. It’s more than a declaration. It’s a promise. A commitment. A solemn pledge.
“And I love you.”
He briefly closes his eyes, the tension that had built inside him visibly evaporating, his muscles relaxing. Then he hooks his arm around my waist, pulling me against him as he covers my lips with his, his kiss telling me everything that words alone cannot. That I’m the air he breathes. The blood in his veins. The love in his soul.
And he’s all those things to me, too.
A hand on my hip, he guides me toward his bed. This is a dance we’ve done dozens of times, but it feels like the first time all over again. Butterflies flit relentlessly in my stomach, a thrill rushing through me at the prospect of what we’re about to do. At what I’m about to experience.
And that’
s what being with Wes is like. A journey. An adventure. An experience.
When the backs of my legs hit the mattress, he treats me to a devilish smirk before dropping to his knees. With slow movements, he unzips each of my boots and removes them, tossing them to the side. I expect him to stand, but he doesn’t. Instead, he remains kneeling before me and grabs my hips, drawing my body closer to him. His gaze unwavering, he lifts the hem of my sweater and traces a line with his tongue along my waist.
“Wes…,” I moan, his delicate touch like the strike of a match, a wildfire spreading through my core.
He grasps the button of my jeans and unfastens it before lowering my zipper in an agonizingly languid pace. Each second is pure torture, my body craving, demanding, to feel him on every inch. To succumb to his touch. To drown in his love.
“Mmm…,” he groans as he flicks his tongue along the band of my panties. “Do you know my favorite part of your body?”
“What’s that?” I whimper, my nerve endings stirring and tingling.
“This.” He drags a finger along the skin just above the waistband of my panties, his touch intoxicating and invigorating. “This right here is my absolute favorite part of your body.”
“Why?” I ask, digging my fingers into his thick hair, needing to feel grounded when I’m on the edge of falling.
“If there were a mirror in front of you, you’d see why.”
He presses his mouth against the spot near my hipbone. The one that drives me wild. The one he knows drives me wild.
“The expression on your face right now.” His tongue swirls against my skin as he hooks his fingers into my belt loops and pushes my jeans over my hips. “It’s pure fucking heaven.”
I step out of my pants, placing my hand on Wes’ shoulder to help me balance. Once my legs are bare, he returns to me. I close my eyes in anticipation of his tongue along my waist once more, gasping when I feel the heat of his breath between my legs.
“God, I’ve missed your scent,” he groans, moving his mouth against me, making me wish he’d already taken off my panties. But at the same time, I like this, too. Like the buildup. The seduction.
Too soon, he pulls back, pinning me with a sensual look. “Sit on the bed,” he says in a soft voice that oozes with sex and authority.
I do as he requests, lowering myself. Before I can shift toward the headboard, he grabs my ankles, hooking my legs over his shoulders. With a devilish glint in his eyes, he presses a hand against my chest, pushing me back onto the mattress.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I meet his eyes, my breath catching as he gradually runs his hand up my calf, over my knee, up my thigh, the inches separating his fingers from my apex feeling like miles.
Finally, he nudges my panties aside, his thumb ghosting against me. I collapse onto the bed, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as I savor that first contact.
“Oh god,” I moan as he spreads my slickness around. I move with his rhythm, urging him to keep going, to keep touching me, to never stop touching me.
“What do you want, honeybee?” he asks as he plants several kisses along my waist.
“You,” I pant, then cry out something incomprehensible when he pushes a finger inside me.
“How do you want me?”
“Any way you want,” I answer, my brain mush.
When he removes his finger, I fling my eyes open, peering at him with disbelief. I squirm, attempting to squeeze my thighs together to find some sort of release, an ache building inside me I don’t think will ever go away.
“You’re in control, Lo. You call the shots. So…” He smiles slyly. “What do you want me to do? Did you like when I fingered you?”
I nod.
“Words, Lo. I need your words.”
“Yes. I liked it when you fingered me.”
“Good.” He waggles his brows. “I liked it, too.” He pushes my panties aside, circling my clit once more. “I really fucking like it. Love seeing how wet you are. How wet I make you.”
“Take off my panties.”
“Your wish is my command.” He moves my legs off his shoulders, his hands gliding up my thighs before hooking into the waistband of my panties and sliding them off. Once he tosses them onto the floor, he returns to me, draping my legs over his shoulders once more. “Now what?” he asks, the warmth of his breath so close to my center making me wild with need.
“Your mouth. On me.”
“Where, Lo? Your knee? Your foot?”
“You know where.”
“Perhaps. But I want to hear you tell me. Like I said, you’re in control. You call the shots. You tell me exactly where you want my mouth.” He licks his lips, his tongue swiping against my clit. The contact is faint, but it sends a shock wave through me.
“On my pussy. With a finger inside me.”
“That’s my girl.”
He grips my thighs, spreading them farther apart. I watch as Wes’ mouth descends toward me. There’s something so erotic about observing that first lick. And that’s all it takes for me to succumb to him. I fall back onto the mattress, closing my eyes as he tastes me, devours me, worships me.
“You’re so fucking sweet,” he groans, his breaths coming in pants, mirroring mine. “So fucking perfect. So fucking mine.”
I move my hips faster against him, that familiar sensation settling low in my belly. But that’s not how I want this to go. And I’m the one calling the shots. So just before Wes sends me past the point of oblivion, I thread my fingers into his hair, pushing him away.
“Inside me. Now.”
My desire coating his lips, he grins a lazy smile. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, playing up his sweet, Southern accent.
Climbing to his feet, he rips his t-shirt over his head at the same time as I tug off my sweater and unclasp my bra. I crawl on the mattress toward him, my fingers finding the waistband of his sweatpants.
“As much as I love a hot guy in a pair of sweats, they’ve got to go.” I shove them down his legs.
Once he kicks them off, he wraps an arm around me, supporting me as he lays me on the bed. His lips feather against mine as he brings his erection up to me.
I moan, the anticipation ready to undo me, but just as he’s about to thrust inside, I place my hand on his chest, stopping him. He peers at me, questioning.
“You said I get to call the shots.”
“I did.”
“Then get on your back.” I curve toward him, nibbling on his earlobe. “I’m on top this time.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Wes move as quickly as he does when he flips onto his back, taking me with him. I land with a grunt, the sudden movement surprising me. But when the initial shock wears off, I straighten, dragging my fingers down his chest. A hiss falls from his throat, his eyelids fluttering closed.
Leaning down, I take his bottom lip between my teeth. “Eyes. On. Me,” I demand in a flirtatious voice.
His grip on my hips hardens, his length twitching beneath me as he snaps his gaze back to mine.
“I think I like this side of you.” He digs his fingers into my hair, pulling my mouth toward his.
“You like it when I tell you what to do?” I waggle my brows.
“I like that you feel comfortable enough around me to tell me what you want.”
“Good. Because right now, I want you.”
I press a kiss to his lips, then sit back, scraping my nails down the hard planes of his chest, leaving red marks in their wake. When I reach his arousal, his breathing becomes more uneven, hooded eyes staring back at me with a heady expression of adoration and raw hunger.
“But first, I want to repay the favor.”
“Favor?”
I nod, wrapping my hand around his erection. I inch my mouth toward him, swirling my tongue along the tip.
“Fuck,” he exhales, jerking at that first contact.
Emboldened, I drag my tongue down his length, then take him into my mouth, my motions slow as I worship him the same way he always does me
.
His eyes find mine as he tightens his grip in my hair, guiding me, thrusting his hips in time with my movement.
“God, baby. I love your mouth. Love your body. Love your fucking tongue.”
His words encouraging me, I increase my pace and relax my jaw, taking him deeper with each motion. When I gently bare my teeth, he yanks me off him, chest heaving.
“I can’t hold off much longer, so unless you want me to come in your mouth, get on me right now.”
His carnal words cause my pulse to skyrocket, a delicious shiver coursing through me.
“Impatient much?” I tease as I make a show of wiping my bottom lip.
“For you?” He draws my lips toward his. “I have absolutely no patience. No control. So take it all, Lo. Take what you need.”
I capture his mouth with mine, circling my hips against him as pleasure builds deep within me, touching parts of me I didn’t know existed. I fear the second he’s inside me, I’ll lose all control. But there’s no one else I’d rather lose control with. He’s my alpha and omega. My heaven and hell. My beginning and end.
And I’ll gladly walk through the flames of hell for a single taste of heaven.
Lifting myself up, I bring his erection to my entrance, not looking away from his eyes as I ease him inside. When he’s as deep as he can go, I pause, neither one of us moving or breathing as we revel in the sensation, as if it were the first time.
Then we exhale simultaneously, and I bury my head in his neck, breathing in his scent.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmurs huskily, a hand affectionately splayed on my back, fingers moving in slow circles.
“And I’ve missed you.” I treat him to a soft kiss. “I won’t shut you out again.”
“Promise?” He rests his hand over my heart.
I nod, mirroring his gesture on his chest. “Promise.”
“Good.”
He circles his hips, encouraging me to move along with him. But we keep our hands in place, him holding my heart, and me his. Just like we promised last week at the gala. Him for me. Me for him. For the rest of our lives.