Serenading Heartbreak - Ella Fields Page 0,79

His pitch deepened and lowered. “Yeah, but like I told you, nothing exceptional.”

“I think being an exceptional parent would be kind of hard.”

His top lip curved, lashes bobbing with his shifting eyes. “Your parents are exceptional.”

“They’re not perfect,” I reminded him, “but they are kind of great.”

“You don’t need to be perfect to be exceptional.” His words were but a low rasp, and it seemed like our faces had drifted closer. “In fact, the most brilliant people on earth are brilliant because of their imperfections.”

It hit me like a rock slamming into my chest, robbing me of breath. I felt the dam begin to break, emotion coating my tongue. “Why was it so easy for you to leave me?”

His eyes flickered with pain, and his hand met the side of my face. “You thought it was easy?”

Unable to, I didn’t answer.

He let out a short laugh, soaked in disbelief. “Clover, lying to you, saying hurtful things to make you forget about me… Next to losing Mason, those were some of the hardest things I’ve ever done.” His fingers whispered over my cheek. “Harder than living in a house full of junkie drunks. Harder than stepping over glass ten times in the place I was meant to call a home before learning to wear boots everywhere. Harder than having my friends look at me with pity. Harder than having my dad hit me until I grew old enough to fight back.”

He blew out a tremulous breath that coasted over my lips.

“I didn’t want you because I couldn’t have you. I’ve wanted you since I first saw you digging around in the dirt, planting and nurturing. Since you smiled at me like I wasn’t some grubby loser outcast who’d just moved to town. Your soul”—his finger brushed down my cheek, dipping over my chin and down my throat, then landed on my chest over my erratic heart—“and this beautiful thing inside here? It’s pure sunshine, the best form of warmth, and I’m sick of feeling like I have no right to it. I’m sick of forcing myself to remain out in the cold.”

I took his hand, bringing it to my mouth to kiss his scarred knuckles. “Do you still think you’re unworthy?” A wet laugh escaped. “Because that’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard, Ever.”

He grinned. “I’ll never be worthy, but fuck if I even care anymore. I want to deserve you, so I’m going to do just that.”

Heat rushed through me, and the room seemed to shift around us as I marveled at the admiration shining from those green orbs. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah.”

We moved at the same time, our lips meeting, teeth nipping, and our hands clawing at our clothes. My teeth opened his mouth for my tongue to skim inside and found his waiting.

A groan shook itself free of his throat, rumbling into mine as he got my shorts unzipped and halfway down my legs. I flipped onto my back to kick them and my panties off, and he cupped my face, turning it back for his mouth to return to mine.

My hands searched and unzipped his fly while our tongues dipped and stroked in that raw, sensual synchronization they’d learned long ago.

Home. Kissing Everett, having his hands stroke over my thigh to my hip, raising my T-shirt, felt like coming home.

“Tell me,” he said into my mouth as I tried to sneak my hand inside his pants. “Tell me you love me.”

“You already know I do,” I whispered. “I never stopped.”

His eyes closed, a hissed breath cutting past his lips and over mine when I wrapped my hand around him. “God, I need you.”

I moved my leg, and he took the opening, his fingers racing down my stomach, leaving chills in their wake to drift through my arousal.

Feather soft, he explored, evoking breathy sounds from me as I watched his eyes darken and felt him grow impossibly hard in my hand. A thick finger prodded at my entrance, gently pushing inside. A gleam lit his eyes, that velvet voice. “Look what I do to you.”

I garbled out some kind of response, and his finger retreated, moving to my clit and circling.

Then he tore away, kicking off his jeans and briefs, and I laid on my back as he loomed larger than life above me, tugging off his shirt.

He’d filled out even more, probably since he’d stopped drinking so much and started working at the hardware store. Columns of packed muscle bunched as he lowered over me, his cock

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