“Hiraeth.” He whispers the word as if it’s my name, as if I was made from the earth from where he longed to return.
“But not anymore, because we are no longer lost.” He reaches out his hand and traces his thumb across my lips. “You understand now, don’t you? You know everything I’ve told you is true.”
It isn’t a question; it’s a statement, but I answer him anyway.
“Yes.”
Chapter 11
Macsen
I don’t know who moves first, but I can’t help the groan of relief as our lips meet. It’s a whisper of a kiss. Skin brushing against skin. A kiss more intimate than any other we’ve shared.
It’s reconnection, and it’s remembrance. It’s worship and adoration.
Until it morphs into more.
Ellis mutters something I don’t catch under his breath, breaking the connection of our lips. His eyes stare at my mouth, the blue darkening, his gaze heavy-lidded.
That look is one I’ve craved.
Unrestrained, molten, wild desire.
It heats my skin, slips into my bloodstream and sends all my nerve endings on alert. It’s a look that tells me there’s no way out, no turning back; he will take what he wants.
And I will let him.
“I think the ice cream has melted.” My husky attempt at levity slips free, provoking, pushing him to the edge of his control. I try to appear unaffected when I am anything but. How could I be, with his taste in my mouth, his hands on my body, his penetrating stare eating me up?
I don’t want him to hold back. I don’t want the weight of our heavy conversation to have dampened his desire for me.
I want the Ellis back who looks at me like he’s ten-seconds away from throwing me up against the wall. I want his raw intensity, his desperate need.
If I can get him to that point, seconds from losing his control, I’ll know everything is going to be alright.
He glances briefly from me to the puddle of liquid sitting in the bowls a few feet away.
“Fuck the ice cream. I’ll make you more.”
And then he’s on me.
Taking, claiming, owning.
His kiss is the right side of aggressive, as he walks me backwards until the backs of my knees hit the sofa, but he doesn’t stop, can’t stop. His need is a direct mirror image of mine.
I land on my back on the sofa, Ellis staring down at me like some feral god. His body is thrumming with unrestrained energy, all of which is focused on me.
It’s heady and potent. Powerful and addictive.
In all our lives, his need for me has never dimmed.
We are always the clash of darkness and light. Of sunrise and sunset. Of yin and of yang. Opposite halves of the same whole.
And when we come together, the storm breaks, two halves merging in an explosion of soul-deep energy.
Twin flames burning brighter than they ever did apart.
“Unbutton the rest.” He nods down at my chest and the small amount of skin still covered. Without waiting for me to obey, he reaches behind his neck and tugs off his t-shirt, throwing it off to the side, uncaring of where it lands.
“I said,”—he prowls over me, crawling up my body, bringing all his smooth golden skin within reach— “take off your shirt, Macs.”
I can’t move, captivated by the look of him and the feel of him. Absorbed with the need to memorise every inch from the curve of his collarbone to the ridges of his abdomen.
Yes, I’ve seen Ellis in every life I can recall. I’ve known the feel of his skin against mine, and the taste of his lips, but I haven’t seen this Ellis, and I’m greedy. I need to catalogue every inch, count every freckle, taste every golden part. And then I need to do it again and again and again so I can commit it to memory.
A hand finds my jaw and lifts my head, ending my perusal of the body hovering inches above mine.
I feel lust drunk, floating in a haze of intoxicating heat.
And he hasn’t even touched me yet.
Ellis’s gaze locks on mine, pupils blown, lips plump and swollen from our kiss.
“Are you fond of this shirt?” His voice is gruff, the deep tenor vibrating in the air between us, making me swallow thickly, unable to answer. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Buttons pop, some skittering across the floor from the force of his hands, and then his glorious bare skin is pressed against mine, his weight pinning me in place, anchoring me, holding me in the moment.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is thick and raspy, his exhale my inhale. “I can’t go slow right now.”
I open my mouth to tell him it’s okay, there’s no need for slow, but he steals the words from the tip of my tongue, groaning as he drinks down my assent.
Thigh to thigh.
Chest to bare chest.
Ellis’s mouth takes mine in a searing kiss that burns through my blood and tightens my balls.
I arch up, the first brush of his hardness against mine an exquisite agony only heightened by our combining groans.
Ellis takes that as his signal to devour me, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, tugging on it and eliciting another ragged moan from my throat, my lip seemingly connected by an invisible thread to my cock. I feel his touch there. Feel the tug on my mouth as if it were his tongue sucking on the throbbing head of my erection.
My dick has been neglected for too long. It needs him too much.
With fumbling and overeager fingers, I find the buttons of his jeans and he stops grinding against me long enough for me to pop them all open. Then my hand is plunging under the denim, cupping him over his underwear, and I smile against his lips at the full-body shiver my touch brings.
“Off—take them off,” I mumble against his lips, awkwardly trying my damnedest to push them over his hips but unable to find enough purchase because Ellis can’t seem to stop himself from thrusting into my tight grip, and I refuse to release my hold on his cock.
“How—” I begin to say, but he licks into my mouth before sucking on my tongue, stealing my next word.
“Am I—” He shifts, resting on one elbow, freeing his hand and using it to grip my jaw and angle my head exactly where he wants it, moving that talented mouth over to my ear and sucking my lobe.
“Supposed to—” His tongue licks up my neck, stopping to taste and bite wherever the urge takes him.
“Suck your—” He sucks hard on my collarbone, undoubtedly leaving his mark.
“Ungh—” His mouth finds my nipple, his tongue swirling around the pebbled peak, his teeth worrying it until it’s hard enough to cut glass—another erogenous zone linked directly to my dick, which pulses in time with his ministrations.
“Cock?” His devilish mouth moves to work the other nipple, paying it the same attention.
“Ellis,” I moan almost incoherently. “Want. To. Suck. You. Need to taste you.”
He stops, head lifting, swollen mouth wet and inviting, dark gaze penetrating.
With a smile borne of sin, his hand trails down my chest to the waistband of my trousers.
“Nuh-uh,” he teases. “It’s my turn first.”
I’m naked from the waist down between one breath and the next, my hard length slapping against my belly when it’s set free from the confines of my boxers. It points straight up, directly at that for which it aches, twitching and leaking from the tip, screaming for Ellis to do more than just look at it.