It hauls a gasp out of me. Haley might as well have my whole bloody heart in her palms.
She kisses me again.
It’s too much, and I’m too desperate for it. It’s absolution I don’t deserve. That I never thought was possible. I turn around and kiss her mouth and she flings her arms around my neck, holding on tight while I bite her. Claim her. Let her see.
Chapter Eleven
Haley
Leo crushes his mouth to mine with so much force that I can feel him breaking underneath it. I can feel how far this has pushed him. He’s right. I’ve never seen his skin in daylight before. Only the murky half-light of his bedroom when he burned with fever, and I didn’t really see it then. I was too focused on keeping him alive.
But now he is alive, now he is warm and alive and holding me to him with all his strength. His kisses are echoes of the way he looked at me in the mirror, echoes of the blaze in his dark eyes. The fire there. The storm.
The sun gets brighter as he lets me up for air, catching in his dark hair like a halo. Sun, no sun, it doesn’t matter. I’m lit up with him. Panting with the kiss and this fresh intimacy. We’ve never been this close. Never, never, and my heart bruises and breaks.
Leo’s eyes rake down over me. They stop at the hollow of my throat. At my chest, rising and falling. He’s thick and hard between us. His hand comes up to circle my throat.
“I’m a monster,” he says again, squeezing.
I use the last of my breath to deny him. “No.”
He hauls me up onto the wide desk with him, making me straddle him. My thighs spread wide over his hips while he pulls me down for another kiss. The fact that I’m on top changes nothing about his control or his dominance. I might as well be bound with my wrists above my head for all the power I have now.
His hand remains wrapped around my throat. Dark eyes hot and wounded on mine. He’s waiting for me to admit that he’s monstrous, that he’s terrifying, that he’s a ruined soul.
If Leo Morelli is ruined, so am I.
He watches me pant in his grip. Looks down at my dress flowing over us both. “Take it off.”
I shove it over my head, more aware of it now. I know by the feel of it that it was made from the same fabric as his shirts. He’s started dressing me in it, too. He makes a low noise at the sight of my bra and panties. “Show me your tits. I know how much you love that.”
He accused me of it before. Of liking to show myself off for him. I tried to tell myself I hated it, but I don’t. I love it. Heat flashes across my face, but I keep my eyes on his when I take off my bra and arch my back.
Leo squeezes my neck to make me arch it more and curses under his breath. It seems impossible for him to maintain such perfect balance without bracing himself, but then he has to be strong like this. He’s had no choice. His abs have been carved out by necessity.
He uses his free hand to brush a thumb over one nipple, then the other, until both of them stand out. “Have you ruined your panties yet? Touch them and tell me.”
I slip my hand down to the delicate fabric. “They’re wet,” I whisper. He pushes his thumb into my throat to feel the words. “Does that make them ruined?”
“It makes you filthy, darling. Your cunt loves a sadistic bastard. Your cunt loves a monster.”
A squeeze cuts off my ability to say that it’s him I love. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve told him twice, but he was sick or sleeping and didn’t hear.
He hooks a finger through the waistband and pulls them against my hip until the threads fray. One swift yank finishes them. A breath of a moan works past his hand and he makes an answering sound. A pleased one. I want him to be pleased. I want him to not be in pain. I would trade anything for that, I think. Anything.
“Look in the mirror.”
I’m busy melting into his touch, melting into his control, but I open my eyes and look. I can see him. His hair, his arms. See his grip on my neck. See every one of his scars. He’s giving me permission to see them. Leo could order me to close my eyes and I would, but he doesn’t. A frisson touches down. It tightens my nipples. Sends a chill racing up my spine. In the mirror, Leo bows his head and sinks his teeth into my collarbone.
It pulls a cry out of me that he soothes with a kiss, with his tongue. Thick fingers make contact with my pussy, stroking there, dragging through a wetness that humiliates me. Or maybe I just like being humiliated by him. His thumb circles my clit. Leo kisses the side of my neck. “Your thighs are shaking,” he murmurs into my ear. “You’re a slut for my hand around your throat.”
He works his fingers inside me and everything clenches. Leo won’t let me move down, won’t let me fuck his fingers. He holds me up by the neck. I’m flushed in the mirror, my eyes wide and desperate. My lips parted. Wanting him. He’s angled us so I can see everything he’s been trying to hide. His back. His pain. Me. He’s tried to hide me, too. To protect me? To protect him? It’s too hard to think with his thumb on my clit. He’s mean that way, not letting me take any more of him. This is the only time it’s good to be useless. It doesn’t make me feel bitterly ashamed. Because he loves it so much.
I chase more contact with his thumb, chase more contact with his fingers. My orgasm stays just out of reach. I don’t know why. I’m so wet, so hot, and—
“You need to come.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “I can’t. And I don’t—”
“Is it the mirror?”
“No.” I could look at his body forever. I don’t care if he has scars. I meant what I said. It’s his skin. It’s him. I’m not afraid of it, not disgusted by it, or him. I reach over his shoulder and brush my fingertips against one of his scars. The act of doing it, the act of being this close to him, makes my pussy pulse around the invasion of his fingers.
The sound he makes then is closer to the beast than to Leo, and then his hand is gone from my throat. It’s fisted in my hair, pulling my head back, letting me sink all the way down to his fingers. “It hurts,” I breathe, pain arcing over my scalp.
Leo hooks his fingers and my orgasm implodes. I keep my eyes open. I know he wants me to. So I see his eyes burn. I see them flare with possession and pain and a deep relief. “Fuck, darling,” he says. “I want your cunt squeezing my cock. You’re going to give it to me.”
I haven’t stopped coming, my breaths coming too fast and hard, when he pulls his fingers out. Shoves down his zipper, and his pants. Then his palms are on my hips, guiding me to his cock, and thrusting in.
He groans, and for the first time he has to adjust. Leo plants one big palm on the desk behind him and puts the other on the back of my neck. He’s already made me come once and it still takes time to get used to him. To get used to the presence of him inside me. He’s so big. So hard. He’s the only man who’s ever fucked me. He’s the only man I want. I hook my chin over his shoulder. Let my arms drape around him. Work my hips. Leo’s letting me have the illusion of control. He could take it back any time, but it’s a test—that’s what it is, a test. He can’t help it. He needs it.
My thighs burn with the effort of fucking him. Of staying as close as I possibly can. I push myself down another inch and groan at the stretch. Under his skin, his heart pounds. The only gentle touch is his hand in my hair, keeping my head in place. Holding me. It doesn’t seem as gentle against the hard thrust of his cock. All of this in one person. Gentleness and pain. Anger and love. He’s a complicated person. He’ll always be complicated.