He threw the cloth down and brought her close. Her hands snaked up his chest and wrapped around his neck. He gazed down at her, watching her as she traced along her name on his neck, her eyes filled with emotion.
“I put it there at my lowest,” he confessed quietly. “I wanted the guards to find me hanging one morning, and the second I admitted that to Dominic, he tattooed your name on my neck so I’d never forget I had a family I needed to live for.”
He caught the fear in her eyes. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone, Conor. I don’t want you to ever feel that low again. I’m here for you. We’re all here, and we all love you, and I can’t make it in this life without you. I’ve got you now and I can’t go through that separation again.”
He shut his eyes, listening to her words like they were a salve to all his healing wounds. The injuries he’d sustained over his lifetime were soul deep. Charlotte’s remedy for them was love. Every touch she gave him hurt, but in a good way.
She was right, he realized.
She’d told him to face the pain instead of run away from it, even if it hurt. He needed to hurt before getting better. He couldn’t keep running. She needed to see him in all his brokenness, in all his vulnerability.
He didn’t want to hide anymore.
Feeling resolute, he opened his eyes. The second she stared back at him, he sensed she knew he was ready.
“I love you, Charlotte,” he told her solemnly.
In other words, he wanted to take her, to love her the way she deserved, and god, she understood that look straightaway. Of course she did, because he was staring at her like he used to do before. He was reverting back to his old ways, to the man that doted on her with gentleness.
Charlotte
He was asking me with one look to touch him and not stop. His walls were down. The vulnerability in his eyes disarmed me. He wasn’t skittish. I saw the determination in him and knew he was certain of this.
I slowly slid my hands down to his chest. My fingers shook as I slowly unbuttoned his overalls, staring straight in his eyes. I pulled them down and around him, removing his hands from his sleeves. When the overalls settled around his hips and his gleaming chest was bare in front of me, I took a moment to look him over. I took in his scarred skin, his hard muscles, the broadness of his shoulders; I was so puny in front of him, he could devour me if he wanted to, but he was giving me the power and it was heady to know I had him to do as I pleased.
So many erotic scenes played out in my mind, but what triumphed over them all was the sole need to show him that I loved him. He needed my gentle touch.
I stepped closer to him and pressed kisses down his throat. He stood still as I went, exploring his chest with my fingers, kissing along his skin and stopping to flick my tongue along his flat nipple. I was instantly wet and needy. He was all man and so hard and just kissing him like this was doing things to me.
“Conor,” I whispered, staring up at him wantonly.
He kissed me tenderly, one hand in my hair, the other on the car behind me. He leaned into me, tasting me with his tongue as I slipped my hand into his overalls. I felt for his briefs and gingerly slipped my fingers inside, lightly touching his cock. He was already hard and thick, and when I gripped him, he tensed above me.
By now I was leaning back against the hood of the car and Conor was over me. Both of his hands were splayed palm down on the car. His breaths were hot and heavy in my mouth. He let out a guttural groan when I stroked his length. I had to open my eyes to watch him. His eyelids were heavy as he stared back at me, as he let me pleasure him.
“Is that good?” I whispered, kissing along his jaw.
His breaths were ragged. “Don’t stop, dove.”
I didn’t. He grew impossibly thick, my fingers couldn’t touch. I swallowed his quiet groans, kissing him deeply every time his body jolted. It was so strange to be touching him, to be watching