“I’m still hurt, and I’m afraid to trust you.” The hope etched into his face vanished, and the heat in his eyes dimmed. I hurried to clarify, to take that enormous step and hope forgiveness would set us free. “But I’m ready to move past the things I can’t control. I’m tired of living in the past.”
“What are you trying to say, Rhiannon?” One single questioned revealed just how vulnerable the man seated before me was.
Taking a deep breath, I confessed on the exhale, “I love you.”
I’d almost forgotten how fast Disco could move when he wanted to.
Almost.
The towel hit the floor when he grasped me around the waist. He deposited me on the bed, careful not to jar me, cradling me as I sank into the softness of the comforter. His weight held me down, pinning my hips to the bed, and I basked in it. Our mouths met, a wild merging of tongues, a sensual dance I’d missed so damned much. I had been wrong about the dreams he gave me. The beach he created—the sense of security he provided—had always been there.
My safe place didn’t exist in dreams. Heaven was right here, in his arms.
“Again.” Disco’s breath brushed my lips, an intimate caress. “Tell me again.”
“I love you.”
He rose above me, an Adonis in my eyes, and destroyed the shirt masking the beauty of his body. Buttons flew across the room, a few bouncing off the wall. He didn’t slip the garment off; he ripped it from his torso. Cool skin met hot, our chests coming together and blending. Perfection. Fire and ice. Softness and muscle.
“Nothing else matters,” Disco murmured.
“Nothing else,” I echoed, wrapping my arms around his waist.
Our mouths touched again, only this time the kiss was sweeter. His taste was intoxicating, something I’d missed. He moved his hands over my body, molding them around my hips, whispering them up my torso, and settled over my breasts. I groaned at the sensation, waiting for what he planned next. His thumbs breezed around my nipples, moving agonizingly slow in light, steady circles. I writhed beneath him, aching for more pressure, and bit my lip to muffle the soft cries that escaped.
Disco lifted away, watching as he touched me. “Let me hear you,” he rasped, playing with the hard points, rolling them between his fingers. “I love the sounds you make.”
I gave him precisely what he wanted when his head dipped and those plush lips surrounded the nipples he’d played with. Back and forth, from one to the other. He used his mouth and teeth, nipping at the sensitive skin. He used enough force to create a pleasurable amount of pain before soothing the sting with gentle laps and swirls of his tongue, flicking the tip over the tender and electrified tissue.
“Oh God.” Praise his fucking name.
This was what I’d missed, what I wanted beyond reason but denied myself. Not only had I hurt Disco with my distance, I’d inadvertently hurt myself. How had I forgotten how right this felt? How strong our connection was?
I’d been lost without him, so fucking confused. Now everything was crystal clear. Love didn’t come with a guarantee. That’s what made it so special, so cherished—so rare. You believed in the truth of your heart, even at its worst, because you had no other choice.
After what had transpired between us weeks before, I didn’t expect Disco to take our lovemaking further. I knew he’d want to play with my breasts, touch and tease me and dive into the foreplay he’d always enjoyed. But when he started to venture to the land down below, I tensed. Suddenly the moment didn’t feel so sexually charged. Sex with him felt terrifying. Horrible visions of the past clawed their way forward, trying to lure me to the safety of the wall I’d built around myself.
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” My voice was deep. Not from passion but fear. I clearly remembered his anger, his outrage, when he’d learned I’d made love to Paine. One firm swipe of his tongue against my sex had sealed my fate. I knew I should have told him—I should have warned him—of what had happened. But I’d been selfish. I was so happy to see him. To know he was alive.