Our tongues tangle in the most erotic and passionate of dances. Eyes closed, I savor the affection and clutch him to me, drinking, consuming as he feeds my starving heart. He answers every question I’ve ever had, with each sure stroke of his tongue, and brush of his fingertips.
I don’t need words or promises. His kiss makes them irrelevant.
Hunger rumbles low, and with every thorough brush of his tongue, I become more ravenous to expose everything we’ve hidden beneath our thin veil of hate.
He bends lifting the hem of my sundress, and I extend my arms above my head and keep them raised as he pulls the material off, leaving me completely naked in the middle of the sun-soaked garden.
His eyes explore me from head to foot running fingers along my skin, his palms covering me in his reverent touch, an apology for all the violent touches before. A tear drips from my chin and he whisks it away with his tongue before sweeping me into his arms and setting me on the lounger. Wordlessly, he pulls off his shirt and boxers between kisses. Shaded by a canopy of wisteria, I drink him in, as we exchange one kiss for another, the next more intoxicating than the one before it. He pulls away, gazing down at me, his palms caressing the top of my head with a gentle sweep.
“Why, why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” I rasp out, utterly helpless to the emotion he’s stirring within me.
“C’était trop demander.” It was too much to ask.
He stares down at me, hands roaming over every inch of flesh within his reach, his eyes and lips worshiping, his heart pounding against mine, demanding acknowledgment. The kiss turns fevered as our mouths call a truce and begin to make promises we can never speak because if we do, we will no longer be enemies.
But in glimpses of his fiery depths, all of it’s gone; his contempt, his judgment, his anger, his resentment, all of it replaced with tenderness, longing, and blatant need. He slides his warm hand down my stomach before pressing thick fingers inside me. Every brush of his lips causes eruptions throughout my chest and all over my body.
Our visual connection remains unbroken as he moves to hover above me. Cradling him between my legs, I cup his jaw. Once he’s readied me, he lines us up and without hesitation, pushes his length into me, claiming me fully. Flattening his chest to mine, he drives in further, and I lose every ounce of my breath. His cock is rooted so deep, I’ll never be able to forget the way he feels.
He grinds into me, burrowing further, embedding himself as he peers down at me, eyes beseeching, begging me not to look away, to accept him, to accept us, and our fate. He pushes my knees apart further before he slowly, so slowly, begins to move.
My world shifts as he gently rolls his hips, his gaze never wavering as I take all of him in, while he brands my body, a declaration, a possession.
It’s belonging I feel with every slow thrust, every kiss, every look, every breath that passes between us.
We let ourselves go, our mouths molding with the perfect exchange, moaning and gasping at the way I fit him, and the way he fills me so completely. His lovemaking is ecstasy in the purest form. I shudder in his arms, in the completion.
Pulling him tighter to me, I cry out as he surges into me, his mouth covering the whole of my breast, his teeth grazing my nipple as he rears back and drives in again, hitting the end of me over and over, purposefully staking his claim.
“Je ne peux pas aller assez loin.” I can’t get deep enough.
With every slow thrust of his tongue, every possessive push of his hips, he damns us, the confession in his eyes narrating our story, our ill-fated fortune as star-crossed fools, sharing a merciless love neither of us can ever deny, but can never keep.
On the brink, I break our kiss, look him in the eyes and call out his name as the rush overtakes me. It’s the sound of his name coming from my lips that sends him over, and I feel him pulsate just before he buries himself and pours into me.
Bodies slick, he burrows deeper, a thin veil of sweat covering him as he trembles in my hold, emotion shining in his eyes, twisting his features. He’s completely exposed and lets me see him in his most vulnerable state, and I’ve never seen anything so perfect.
He presses his forehead to mine, as we share several collective breaths. I stroke his back with my fingers as some of the high disappears from his eyes, and the truth sets in. He dips to kiss me, and I feel him start to retreat as my heart begins to sink with the weight of our secret.
When he pulls away, the loss rips me apart as I hold in a sob, and he turns from me to sit on the edge of the lounger, his shoulders sagging forward, stretching the wings along his muscular back.
The sight of the bond he made with his brothers draws tight. It’s there, the answer, the reason for our beginning and the reason for our end—a bond made from love. A timeless bond a different love could never break. A bond that exists with his brothers and his reason for being.
He can never choose me.
He will never choose me.
I can never ask him to.
“We can never be,” he says softly from where he sits.
“I know.” I lift to sit as he slowly stands and picks up my dress, handing it to me. Gathering his boxers, he glances over his shoulder, his eyes filled to the brim with guilt. “I can’t make you any promises.”
“I haven’t asked for any.”
“This ends now. It has to, Cecelia. It has to.”
“I know.”
It’s anger that takes hold as he jerks on his briefs. I brace myself for the pain of his absence, for more heartache as he retrieves his shirt from the ground. I’ve had my heart broken before, I’m all too familiar with the feeling, but there’s a raging now in my chest, with a strength I never imagined possible.
Briefly, he stops dressing, staring at me with the undershirt around his neck before pushing his arms through. Tortured eyes meet mine, and I see his defiance, not against me, but against the stars lining up against us.
Utter fucking disaster.
“I don’t want to fucking leave. I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to hate myself. I don’t want to blame you. I’m tired of being angry at them, but damn them and…damn you, Cecelia, you were never supposed to know them, you were never,” his face twists with fury as my heart seizes, “you were…” He jerks me to stand, pulling me against him, anger rolling off his frame, anguish in his eyes.
“Yours. I was always supposed to be yours,” I say as he nods and crushes me with his kiss.
“Tell me about her,” I say as Tobias folds his hands over my stomach, peering up at me. He’s gloriously naked, his beautiful ass in full view behind him. Even with his declaration in the garden that we can never be, he’s prolonged that decision. Since then, we’ve spent our day christening the house in new memories; talking, eating, playing chess, swimming, and alternating between fucking and making love. We’re both in denial, refusing to deal with the inevitable.
“Please, I want to know.”
“She was…beautiful, funny, full of life. Headstrong and strict when she needed to be but surprisingly gentle. She loved her wine and taught me to cook. She was such a good cook. In the kitchen is where we spent most of our time together. She could always make me laugh, no matter what mood I was in. She was my best friend…my everything.”
“And your stepfather?”