Hearts the Last Beat (Angel Fire #6) - Ellie Masters Page 0,58
clean up in the shower, where he drives me insane with the talent of his mouth and the magic of his fingers.
We fuck outside on the balcony where my cries of pleasure meld with the raucous calls of gulls flying overhead. We fuck on the couch and again on the floor as the sun slowly sinks to the horizon.
Spike holds me in his arms, speaking of forevers and tomorrows without end. The sensation of our bare skin pressed together is more than I can bear.
Several hours later, we return to an empty home.
Nobody stirs at Insanity.
Nobody except Forest.
He catches us outside as we gaze up at the stars. We lounge on separate chairs, fingers intertwined, and jerk apart with a start.
Forest says nothing as he moves past us and disappears inside the kitchen. Nothing except for the severity of his expression and the slow shake of his head.
“He knows.” Spike breathes out a shaky breath.
“There’s no way he can know about today.” I twist in my seat, trying to lay eyes on Forest.
The kitchen door opens, and Forest stalks past us. He says nothing, but his glacial gaze lands on Spike. With a slow shake of his head, he mumbles something I can’t hear and disappears into the night.
“He knows.” Spike squirms in his seat.
“How?”
“Who knows how Forest knows anything?”
“Is he going to tell?”
“He won’t say anything as long as you and I keep our hands to ourselves while here.”
I lean back with a groan and already miss Spike’s fingers playing with mine. I thought that was something I could do—behave myself while at Insanity—but after today, it feels wrong not to touch Spike.
“It’s not fair.” With a huff, I draw my knees close. “It’s not fair we have to hide what we are.”
“You know what will happen if they find out.” Spike keeps his voice low, even though there’s no one outside to hear. “We’ll take things slow. Today was a test.”
He goes on to explain how he sees things progressing. Conversation. Laughter. Tiny touches. Short embraces. Spike lays it all out, obviously, he’s been thinking hard about how to break the news he and I are a couple to the rest of the gang.
It warms my heart, knowing he obsesses about us as much as I do, but it hurts as well. There’s no reason for us not to be together. No reason except for one overly protective, overbearing asshole.
I appreciate Bash. I’m thankful he opened up his home to me. I’ve even forgiven him for abandoning me, and I know he didn’t, but I grew up thinking my father left me. That isn’t Bash’s fault, but it’s still something I had to let go.
And I have.
I’ve let it all go.
But he’s still not my father. We’re not real family. There’s nothing but a bit of shared DNA tying us together.
No memories.
No past.
Nothing.
And now he’s the thing—the person—standing in the way of my happiness.
I’m not happy about that in the slightest.
I don’t like having to wait. I hate that Spike and I can’t be honest about us, but I understand why we can’t jump in and proclaim our love.
We take things slow. Spike no longer leaves the room when I’m around. He stands closer to me than ever before, but it feels like he’s on the other side of the world.
We settle into a routine. Each morning we share breakfast, sometimes alone, most times with any of a number of Angel Fire’s odd clan. After breakfast, Spike takes me driving.
One week turns into two.
We spend that time fucking each other’s brains out at the same house Spike rented that very first day. We’re like horny teenagers, wild and curious, who can’t get enough of each other. Then we return to Insanity and resume our routine.
No touching.
Very little talking.
It’s a living hell, full of unnecessary space separating us. But we adhere to Forest’s rules. No touching. No kissing. No hugging. No fucking. It’s torture.
We sit around the kitchen table, eating breakfast in relative silence. Today, like most days, we’re not alone. Skye is here with Ash and little Zach. A pile of Cheerios sits in front of little Zach. Instead of eating them, he discovered a new game, throwing them one at a time off the table while squealing with glee.
Spike sits at the opposite end of the table from little Zach’s highchair. Something on his phone distracts him. He keeps looking at the phone and responding to texts as they light up the screen.