X: Command Me through Alexander's Eyes - Geneva Lee Page 0,103
ever be enough to fill it. And that even if I try…
I’ve told Clara about my past—some of it. She knows about my mother. My sister. If she knew the truth…I set my jaw, determined not to make my ghosts her own. When I turn on her, she takes a step back as I find the only words I can to explain, “Every woman who has ever loved me is dead.”
“I’m sorry, X,” she says softly, and my rib cage cracks open a little wider revealing more of the emptiness inside until she continues, “but I’m not dead. I’m right here—and you can’t make me stop loving you.”
For how long? I lock the question away. I have to make her see. I have to make her understand. I take her in my arms, lifting her chin, so her eyes meet mine. “I won’t destroy you.”
“You already have,” she whispers.
Instinct sends my arms falling to my sides. “I never meant for this to happen.”
I didn’t. Clara was just a pretty girl at a party, and then one kiss changed everything.
“I know, but I’m a big girl, X,” she says. “You can’t control me. You can’t control who I love.”
“Stop.” It’s an order—a stupid one that she’s no more capable of following than I am.
“That’s why I can’t stay. I can’t pretend that everything’s okay. I can’t pretend not to love you. I think that would hurt worse than leaving you. I’m sorry, X. I can’t be your secret.”
She’s slipping away like stars fade into the sun, just as impossible to catch. I try to hold on to her anyway.
“One night,” I blurt out. “Stay with me one night, and if you can walk away in the morning, I’ll let you go.”
It’s the last play in my hand. I’ve shown her all my cards, but she can’t resist. I know it. The desire hums between us, filling the air with a crackling tension. But this isn’t about fucking.
I finally realize the truth. I can’t say it. “Let me show you.”
She studies me for a moment, and I resist the urge to reach out and take her. She’d let me. Her body is as much mine as hers now. But that’s not the way to show her that I…
I can’t even think it.
Finally, she answers but not with words. She pulls her shirt over her head, discarding it to the floor, followed by jeans and a bra. She strips away all the tangible barriers between us and stands before me, exposed and vulnerable. “One night.”
I only need one.
I claim her. Carry her to bed, devouring every inch of her neck and throat. Trailing greedy kisses along her jaw. Her palms are hot on my chest, sliding over my scars like she can heal them—heal me.
God, I want her to. I want to be the man she needs.
I will be that man.
Placing Clara on the bed, I steal over her, tasting her as I move between her legs. But I don’t wait. There’s only one way to show her she belongs to me. I kiss her breast gently and plunge inside her. She arches at the sudden fullness. I swallow the sound of pleasure she makes, more precious than my own. That’s when I realize my mistake.
Clara Bishop doesn’t belong to me.
I belong to her.
I’ve taken from her. I’ve taken so much. I need to give her what she really needs. I have to find a way. I sit back, and her eyes flash, a frustrated cry escaping her at being abandoned.
It takes effort to bite back a grin. I love to drive her crazy, but that’s not what this is about. If I only have today and tonight, I will give her everything I am. I will fill her with me. I will give her pleasure, but I’ll give her every bit of myself I can.
Scooping her up, I gather her into my arms. She understands, aiming carefully as she sinks into my lap. Her eyes meet mine. Neither of us can look away. I don’t think we would if we could.
A tentative finger finds my face. She traces its lines and curves, runs it over my lips. She asks questions with each touch. I lift my mask and let her see all the things I hide—all the things I can’t say. Her hips circle furiously, her breath growing shallow and desperate. I see that thing I dread shining in her eyes. I see the thing I crave.