saw, it made him ravenous, and what a glorious feeling that was to know I still affected him all these years later.
He nodded to me, demanding I keep going, motioning with his chin to let my panties drop, and I did. I climbed out of them, forcing myself to remain cool. Standing straight, my gaze flickered for a moment to a random spot on the carpet. I felt exposed and self-conscious. It took an agonizingly long time to finally look up at him.
“Are you scared, dove?” he asked, studying me closely.
“Nervous,” I admitted, resting a hand over my belly where I felt the most insecure about my body.
He caught the movement, glimpsing at my hand briefly. “Me too.”
Was he being serious? He looked like a god. He couldn’t have meant it in the physical sense.
“Come here,” he told me, his voice hardly above a whisper.
I shot him a doubtful look. “I might fall over coming to you, Conor. I’m wobbly everywhere.” And I was. My legs were shaking. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. Maybe this was too much, too fast.
He stood up and slid his briefs off him, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he closed the gap in three strides. Clearly, he had no trouble moving. Just as I looked up at him, he was all around me, picking me up in one quick move. I gasped in surprise; his hands gripped my thighs, and then he carried me to the bed like I was weightless, forehead pressed against mine. He sat us down on the edge of the mattress. He had me straddling him, his dick pressed against the wet spot between my legs. It was thicker now, the shaft rubbing gently at my entrance. He made no move to thrust into me. He held me to him, trailing his hands over every inch of my body, exploring me while his gaze remained locked on mine.
After a while I relaxed. My trembling fingers glided down his hard chest, grazing past his nipples. I was careful where I touched, noticing old bruises across his abdomen. I felt a lump in my throat.
It didn’t have to hurt this much.
It didn’t have to feel this good to be touching him again.
“Talk to me, dove,” he demanded tightly, observing me.
“And say what?” I replied, sullenly.
“Why are you sad?”
I swallowed thickly, tearfully looking at him. “You tried to let me go.”
His body tensed. “I did it for you.”
“No,” I shook my head, wildly. “You wanted me to move on.”
“I wanted you to be happy.”
I took his face in both of my hands and shook him, trembling out, “I was only happy with you. I’m a void, Conor. You did what you said you would do from the start.”
“Which was what?”
“You told me I’d give you my heart and that I couldn’t live without my heart. You were right.”
His expression hardened. “I was arrogant.”
“You were right,” I repeated, tears streaming down my face. “You broke me.”
His eyes glistened. “And you think I was any better? I had to kill part of myself to escape the pain, dove. I had to dig deep and rip it out of me and watch it die.”
A sob escaped me. “You shouldn’t have shut me out.”
“You don’t know what it was like in there,” he said, his voice broken. “You have to stop feeling to survive. You have to do things…things I could never look you in the eye and admit. I would never have been able to face you. I still almost can’t.”
I gripped his shoulder tightly, afraid he’d pull away. “I would never leave you, no matter what.”
He looked so sad, staring into me, begging me to heal him. “There’s been no one else all this time, dove?”
“Just your shadow following me around all these years.”
His fingers ran through my hair and then down my spine and back up again. “I’m not the same, Char,” he declared quietly. “I feel blackness in my heart. Apathy choking me like a snare. I can’t remember who I used to be. I close my eyes and it’s darkness, and I open them and there’s more darkness.”
“And now?” I pressed, stroking his cheek. “Is it darkness and apathy with me here on your lap?”
A tear welled in one eye, but it wouldn’t fall. He stared at my mouth while he spoke. “Just white blinding pain, pup.”
“Good pain, or bad?”
His hand squeezed my hip as he muttered softly, “Good.”