God, she’s going to rip my heart out. I close my eyes and squeeze her closer to me, my fingertips unconsciously dipping beneath the hem of her tank top. She lets out a squeaky sound when I trail them along the skin just below her belly button. “That was the worst day, and night, of my whole fucking life, Corabelle. I didn’t know what to say to you.” I inhale her freshly washed hair, burying my face into the crook of her neck. “What could I say?”
“I wasn’t mad,” she responds in a breathy tone, pressing herself even closer to me. “I understood.”
“No.” I shake my head, her golden locks tickling my nose. “You couldn’t possibly understand. I spent the whole night wishing I’d let him kill me.”
Cora jerks her head to her left, pinning her eyes on me. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“No… Dean, don’t ever say that again. Don’t even think it.” She twists around until we’re facing each other, and my hand slides up behind her top, caressing the small of her back. Cora maintains my gaze for a long time before dipping her chin and sucking in a choppy breath. “Remember when we were trading confessions?” she asks, still avoiding my gaze.
I nod, and our noses almost kiss. “I remember.”
Her tongue slicks over her lips and her eyes close as she pieces together her words. “You told me two confessions and I only told you one.”
My hand instinctively rises up her back, massaging her spine, then curves around to her front. I splay my fingers along her stomach, feeling her body melt into me, and my breathing picks up to match my racing heart. “Do you have another confession?”
Cora nods timidly, her lips parting as she arches into my roving hand. I slide it up her middle until my fingers graze the underside of her breast.
Fuck, I’m getting hard. I should probably stop touching her.
But I want to keep touching her. The last time we were trapped in the dark, we couldn’t even touch our toes together.
“Tell me,” I whisper, lowering my hand and curling it around her waist. I leave it there, waiting for her to speak.
Cora’s eyes flutter open, and it almost feels like it takes all of her courage to let them meet mine. She inhales sharply, then lets it out, her breath skimming my lips. “The only time I felt safe was when you were inside of me.”
Her words shoot straight to my groin. My cock twitches in my jeans, remembering exactly how it felt being inside of her. Only… I thought she was repulsed. Outraged. Horrified.
“Me, too.” I manage to get those two words out as my hand crawls back up her body and cups her breast, forcing a moan from her lips. Her pelvis thrusts against mine, and I grab her face in my hands and start kissing the fuck out of her. When my tongue pushes past her lips, it’s just as desperate as before. Just as wild and untamed. We are pulled together, fueled by our memories and trauma and desire and need.
Cora hoists her leg up around my hip as her arms encompass my neck, pulling herself impossibly close. Her tongue is in my mouth, hot and demanding, and her hands start fisting my hair, tugging it until I moan. I roll her onto her back, our mouths only parting so I can slip her tank top up and over her head, her long hair falling down to the pillow like a golden halo.
Like an angel.
I capture her lips again as I tug down her shorts and panties until she’s wearing nothing but the necklace I gave her for Christmas.
Cora grips my t-shirt, her legs linking around my hips. “I need to feel you…” She discards the shirt, and her hands drift up and down my bare chest, over my shoulders, along my arms, then back up again. She leans up to kiss my neck, nicking her teeth on my skin—like a claim.
It fucking does something to me.
A sound pitches in my throat, almost a growl, and I loosen my belt buckle and kick off my boxers and jeans, descending on her again with maddening urgency. My mouth takes hold of her nipple, dusky and taut, and my tongue laves over each one as I feel her writhing beneath me. Her hands are in my hair again, her nails digging into my scalp, and it only drives me more wild. “You’re fucking beautiful,” I murmur against her skin, trailing my lips down over her flat stomach, then lower, until I’m between her legs. Her scent alone fuels me, but the way she bucks her hips against my face, still pulling my hair, has me diving into her heat with a hunger I’ve never felt before. Cora arches her back and lets out a cry of pleasure that electrifies me. I palm her inner thighs, then push her legs further apart, spreading her as wide as I can. I want her to be fully exposed to me—utterly vulnerable.
I push two fingers inside her as my mouth works her clit. The sweet, intoxicating taste of her mixed with how goddamn wet she is, has my cock throbbing, yearning to be inside her again. I glance up at the stretch of her body, bowed and trembling, and reach up to palm her breast as she rides against my face. I thrust my tongue over her slick folds, sucking her clit, until she’s chanting, “Dean, Dean, Dean…”
Jesus. I’ve heard my name expelled from her mouth so many times, in so many ways: anger, annoyance, outrage, humor, audacity, fear, confusion, grief, heartache… and I swear to God, love.
But not like this.
Never like this.
I crawl back up her body before she spirals, and Cora squeaks in surprise when I leave her unfulfilled. But before she can protest, I hook her thighs around my waist and whisper against her ear, “I want you to come when I’m inside you.”
Cora pushes at my chest and flips me onto my back, climbing on top of me and straddling my hips. My cock grazes the crease of her ass, and I want to lift her onto me, but she reaches behind her and starts stroking me. She drags her fingernails down my abdomen with her opposite hand, then leans down to kiss me.
Feeling her hand grip my cock as her tongue plunges into my mouth is too fucking much, so I flip her again until she’s on her back, like we’re in some sort of powerplay.
But I want to be in control.
I kneel in front of her and grab one of her legs, tonguing and nipping along her thigh before hooking it over my shoulder. My other hand reaches up to grab her breast, tweaking her nipple between my fingers until she whimpers. Then I situate myself between her thighs, my cock just teasing her entrance. Cora moves her hips downward and releases a gasp-like moan when the tip pushes inside.
Fucking hell, this is really happening.
We’re going to have sex.
By choice.
There are no guns, no chains, no shackles, no evil eyes watching us from across the room, tainting us like poison.
It’s just us.
I lean forward as Cora’s ankle curls around my upper back, her leg still draped over my shoulder. She’s spread wide and waiting.
A trace of moonlight brightens her face, and I can see that her eyes are closed. I pull all the way out of her, and she lifts her hips with frustration. “Look at me, Corabelle.”
Cora’s eyelids flutter open beneath her long lashes, and we are face to face. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. I could never look her in the eyes when I entered her before—there was too much shame and guilt. Too much heartbreak. Too much I was afraid I might see.
Now I want to see it all.
When our gaze is fixed and holding tight, I push my cock inside her. We both cry out with a tapered groan, and I watch her eyes glaze over, widening slightly, as we are swept up together in the culmination, the pinnacle, of the last fifteen years. We are frozen for a heartbeat, taking it all in, absorbing it for everything it is.