Favourite Hello. Hardest Goodby - E.S. Carter Page 0,27
my jaw, holding me in place, turning the tables on our kiss and dominating me.
I fist his shirt with both hands to find purchase, tugging him closer even as he pins me in place.
All his need—the ache that he carries for me that matches mine for him—spills into his kiss. If I ever questioned that this man wants me, is drawn to me as much as I am to him, this kiss obliterates those doubts. I have never been kissed like this. Never been owned so thoroughly.
Only I have.
This passion is familiar, the burn of pleasure creeping up my spine, a memory. We’ve come together like this so many times before, and each time feels like the first.
Drugging, addictive, hungry, but also more than that. It’s life, and sustenance, and peace, and contentment. It’s bliss, and wonder, and pleasure, and serenity.
It’s all those tangled feelings and emotions woven into something endless and unbreakable.
It’s us.
As abruptly as the kiss began, it ends. Forehead to forehead we pant and gasp, breaths sawing from our lungs. When I open my eyes, they meet the smooth depths of his.
“Tell me what you feel.” A plea.
“Everything.”
Chapter 7
Macsen
“I know the taste of you. I know the feel of your skin against mine. I know what it’s like to lie spent in your arms.” Ellis’s eyes close on an inhale, our heads still pressed together, our lips mere inches apart. “I know how it feels to take you and be taken by you. I know the endless depths of your passion and the ecstasy of fucking you for hours.” His eyes open, blue heat flickering in his stare. “I know you don’t hold back. From anything.”
I can never hold back with you.
“That’s what you remember.” I choose my words carefully, the ache I carry for him only heightened by the way his eyes are devouring me, threatening to obliterate my resolve. “This awareness of us, these recollections, are things your mind remembers, but I need to know how that makes you feel.”
His gaze searches mine, digging deep and prying in all my dark corners, examining all the parts of myself I hide from everyone else. Except him. I never hide from him.
“Desired,” he admits, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “Craved.” His tongue runs sensuously across his lower lip. “Adored.” Once more, his stare finds mine, the heat in those dark blue eyes evaporating, leaving turmoil in its wake. “Confused.”
He pulls back, his touch falling away, leaving me cold. One hand grips the back of his neck as he turns to look out at the sea below.
“I’m so fucking confused, Macs.” Macs. Say it again. “None of this shit makes sense. These feelings, memories, are impossible.” His head turns slowly, studying me once more, his hands falling limp into his lap. “We met for the first time less than three days ago. You’ve never been here before, and I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
It’s not a question, but I can hear the plea in his voice, and it sends shards of glass into my chest.
Not yet. I can’t tell you yet.
“I—”
Ellis’s phone pings with an incoming text. He glances at his watch and curses under his breath, dropping his gaze to his feet. Running a hand down his face, he stands conflicted, knowing he needs to go back to the pub but desperate to stay. To get answers. To stay close to me.
“Listen, I have to go.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. Not believing I can stop myself from begging him to stay. My confession—all our truths, all our history—on the tip of my tongue.
Not yet. Soon.
After one last, long look filled with questions, yearning and need, Ellis turns and begins to walk back down the craggy coastal path. When he gets only a dozen steps away, he turns, apprehension clear on his face.
“Could I see you again? Tonight, maybe?”
Relief floods me.
“I’d like that.” My voice is nothing more than a croak.
He smiles. It’s boyish and unsure, and it sears straight into my chest. “I’ll cook for you. Seven-thirty, okay?”
“More than okay.” I let him see my joy. Needing him to know the invitation means as much to me as it does him.
There’s a beat of silence where we can do nothing more than stare at each other, goofy grins firmly in place, until his phone pings once more.
“Alright, alright. I’m coming, Iris,” he mutters with a chuckle, shaking his head, his broad smile lowering to a wry grin. Turning once more, hands in pockets, he calls, “Later,”