A Change of Heart (26 page)

He watched her with those molten-chocolate eyes. Love wasn't what this was about for him. It wasn't about lust either, that much she knew. Healing maybe, living maybe, moving on maybe. Just not love. She knew he was done with that.

But for this moment she had him, and it was enough. What she could take of him now she would hold on to forever. With her fingers threaded through his, she led him to the bed. He followed her. His eyes lit with so much she had never expected to see there.

She sat down on the bed. Scooted back. That made him smile, those deep, deep dimples balm on her tattered soul. She tugged at his hand, shyness a nervous spark across her belly. He reached for her, cupping her face. His eyes held hers, beautiful, generous eyes. “We don't have to do this if you're not ready.”

She pushed her cheek into his hand. This time felt different. This time there was purpose in them both. She was ready. Her body was definitely ready, the alien tingling between her legs so hot she clenched her inner muscles in response. His thumb caressed her flaming cheek. Her heart was definitely ready.

Maybe he wanted an out. “You don't have to do this if you're not ready either.”

He laid a knee on the mattress. It sank under his weight as he came to kneel in front of her. He brought his lips to hers, dropping the lightest kiss there, then stopping as if to savor it. “I never expected to want anyone like this again. But you . . .” The heat in his eyes made her skin sparkle with response. His hands caressed her arms. “You are so damn beautiful.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her body. It was always her body.

No. She would not start shaking again. No. Don't tremble. Don't. Nikhil was not them.

Yes, he wanted her body, but he . . . No. She didn't care what he wanted. She wanted him. Him. She reached up and grabbed his face and pressed her lips against his again. Focus on his lips. His amazing lips, soft and warm. For a moment he seemed to sense something and made to pull away, but she pressed her lips into his, sucked on them. Her tongue, her teeth, her entire mouth drinking him in.

Maybe this wasn't the way you were supposed to kiss, she had no idea what she was supposed to do, but this felt so good it made all the noise in her head stop. Warmth burned between her legs and licked up her belly and took everything over. It made her want him to thrust his tongue into her mouth, thrust his hands all over her. Erase everything. She grabbed at his shirt, fisting the cotton, needing purchase, needing to hold on.

He groaned a rough-edged groan and threaded his fingers in her hair, tugging her head back, angling her hungry lips so their positions were reversed. Then he fed her hunger, joined it, opening her mouth wide with his own and entering her with a wet, hot slide that wiped her clean.

She gasped. This time he didn't back away. He pulled her closer, pressed her aching breasts into his hard chest. His tongue stroked hers, the friction so intimate she moaned and thrust her pelvis into the air between them. He slipped a hand between them and cupped her. She almost screamed into his mouth, but it came out a sob. How did he know where to touch her, how to touch her?

How were his hands so hot? One finger pressed through the fabric into the bud that throbbed between her legs, engorged in a way that was entirely unfamiliar. It pulsed under his hand. She pushed away the embarrassment and tightened her grip on his shoulders.

“Nikhil.” She spoke his name into his mouth.

“Yes. Say my name,” he whispered into the edge of her mouth. “It makes me sane.”

“Nikhil.” She pressed into his lips. “Nikhil.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“This. I want this.”

He nipped at her lip. “I want to be inside you.” He pressed his finger into the wet dent between her legs. “Right here.”

She sucked in a breath, and he kissed her again. She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I want that too.”

“You want what?” His hands slid under the hem of her shirt and stayed there. “You have to say it. You have to tell me what you want.”

She couldn't.

He dropped the tiniest kiss on her mouth. “Not going to do any more unless you ask for it.”

A sob escaped her. “I can't.”

“Do you want me to take off your clothes?”

Sparks flitted down her belly.

His hands started to play with the skin at her waist, the back of his fingers stroking under the elastic waistband. Sensation zinged from his fingers up to her breasts and down to where the imprint of his hands still burned. All these sensations, new and sweeping.

She gulped air, her throat bobbing against his nipping teeth. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Teeth and tongue, rough and soft, grazed her throat.

“Yes, I want you to take off my—” Another swallow.

“Clothes,” he prompted.

“Clothes,” she repeated.

He gripped the edge of her shirt and eased it up her body, his hands skimming her as he went. His eyes hitched on hers, picking up every nuance as gooseflesh prickled under his touch. She lifted her arms and lost him for a moment as the black fabric went over her head.

“So beautiful.” His whisper jabbed like spikes into her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut in the darkness of the shirt around her head and focused on the burning in her body.

In less than the span of a breath, she broke back into light. But he kept her arms over her head. Before he bent to her breasts, she saw the hunger in his eyes.

He was hypnotized by her body.

He pressed his lips to her breasts, where they rose and pressed together. She always wore sports bras, tried to flatten the too-large globes that had brought her nothing but pain.

Tears rose in her eyes. She pushed them back, her body starting to lose heat so fast, she struggled to hold on. He freed her arms and dragged his fingers down their length, his lips and tongue teasing her breasts through the fabric. She hated herself as warmth sparked across her skin again.

Despite the storm in her heart, her nipples peaked and pressed into his mouth. He undid her bra and pulled the tightly stretched fabric over her head with almost desperate speed. Her bra soaked up the tears as it brushed up her cheeks.

“God, Jess,” he said as the heavy weight of her breasts popped free. He reached out and touched her. Hot fingers on cold skin. His gaze moved from his hand and met hers.

The glazed look disappeared so fast it was like a magic trick.

He let go of her breast. “Why didn't you ask me to stop?”

“Do you want to stop?” She looked away, too afraid to hear his answer.

“No.” He shook his head. “Your body . . . you're just so damn beauti—What's the matter? What did I say?”

She wrapped her arms around his head and tugged him down to her breast again. “I want you to keep going. I don't want to . . .”

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he whispered against the breasts she was shoving into his face. He tugged her arms off his head, even as they clutched desperately to keep him in place.

“I don't want you to stop, Nikhil,” she sobbed. Her body suddenly filthy, numb, and caked in dirt. What was wrong with her? One moment, she wanted him so badly it raged inside her like a fever. The next moment, she was as cold and hard as marble, cracking and crumbling along the veins that should have made her beautiful.

He clasped her waist and tried to push her away. But she didn't want that either. She didn't want him to stop holding her. Didn't want herself distanced from him, but she wanted her body to have nothing to do with the way he touched her.

His hands slipped around her again and held her for another moment. That spot at the top of her head, where his breath always landed when he held her, tingled. When had that become the most sensitive part of her body?

“You want to talk to me?” he said.

No. She didn't want to talk. There was nothing to talk about.

“I've told you everything. And it's okay if you don't want me after what I've told you.” Her heart begged for him to turn away from her body. Instead, he took her hand and placed it where his hot, hard length swelled his jeans. For a moment fear made her weak, but then she didn't know if it was heat again or shame. Everything inside her blurred together.

“You think I don't want you?” he asked, but before another sob escaped her, she saw the wonder in his eyes. Wonder, not lust. “This guy?” he said, calling that hard, engorged thing a guy.

She pressed her lips together. It was completely crazy to want to smile when she had been so close to tears seconds ago.

He grinned down at her. His little-boy smile very hot and adult. “This guy hasn't done this for two years. I had forgotten he even existed. And you think I don't want you?”

She looked up at him, her heart one part misery, two parts hope.

“What is it, sweetheart? Tell me.”

I hate my body,
she wanted to tell him.
Hate that it turns men into beasts. Hate that it's all you see.
But he needed her body. And maybe this curse of hers could actually give him back something he had lost. “Your guy, he . . . he really hasn't done that in two years?”

The dark, deep chocolate of his eyes turned opaque, his pupils dilating with pain. “I saw it happen.”

He softened under her fingers, and without thinking about it she stroked him, making him push up against her hand again. He leaned his head back.

“How do we keep them out? How do we make them leave us alone?” He met her eyes again. “I don't want them here, Nikhil. But they're here.”

“No.” He pulled her face to his, his mouth suddenly intent on hers, his tongue stroking until those words were gone. “No, they're not.” He tugged her head back, sucking at her throat, scouring all thought from her mind, leaving behind only sensation. “No one is here but me.” His mouth found one hard nipple. “And you.”

Her moan turned into a scream. She arched her back and pressed her aching breast into his mouth. “Nikhil.”

“Yes. Nikhil. Just me. Just you.”

Her entire being centered on his swirling tongue. Pleas tangled in her throat in moans and gasps. His hands circled her waist and fitted her to him. If he had been hard before, now he raged against her, the friction of his jeans scraping her raw.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, just when something between her legs felt like it would unhinge and explode, he let the hard nub of one nipple pop from his mouth and turned to the other. Cool air stroked the wetness on one side while the heat of his mouth burned the other. An inferno rose inside her. She was begging, but she didn't know for what. Her spine curved toward it, her breasts reached for it.

She writhed beneath him, mindless as he reached down and tugged at her pants. The loss stymied her for a moment. Another set of hands coming back from the past.

“Jess,” he said against her mouth. “It's me. Stay with me.” His hand cupped her bare mound, and she forgot everything but his long-fingered touch. He didn't give her a chance to leave him again. Two fingers pressed into her soaking center.

“Nikhil.” She cried out his name.

“Again. Say it again.” This mouth trailed wetness down her body, lower and lower.

“Nikhil. Nikhil. Nikhil.” Sobs. Prayers. “Please.”

His tongue dug into her navel. She screamed. He nipped a line from that dent to a lower dent.

No.

Before she knew what he was doing, his mouth was between her legs. His tongue dipping into her. This time her scream bordered on insanity, her mind leaving her. Sensation like she'd never known exploded where his tongue pierced her. Then everywhere. She was a storm. A tornado. Particles scattered in the air. All of her gone, exploded, nothing but sensation and more sensation.

He didn't let her go, moving with her as she thrust and thrashed against his mouth. Not letting up until the sensation became a crescendo. An endless dance of crests and waves. Ages passed before she came back into her body. Her head swimming, dizzy, her belly trembling, all of her slick with sweat. He came up then. His lips glistening with her madness.

“Shh,” he said, his face over her, smiling. “Breathe.”

She shook her head from side to side. She couldn't breathe, couldn't process what had just happened to her.

“I'm going to enter you now. Do you want that?” he said, reaching into the nightstand drawer and retrieving a condom.

“Yes.” It's what she wanted more than anything else.

He slid on the condom and entered her. A careful, deliberate slide. He watched her face as she soaked him up. This pleasure was different, sliding against each sensitized inch still buzzing from before, bringing all that sensation back to life. And it set off another flood as he fit into her, the notching so tight, her already satiated belly cramped around her pleasure.

“It's me. Just me, Jess,” he whispered against her ear. But she didn't need to be told anymore. It was him. Just him everywhere.

He moved inside her, starting out controlled, and then his rhythm changed, tipping into her madness, his breath hissed, his eyes lost their center. He threw back his head and shuddered in her arms, mirroring the explosion that had just taken her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his shoulders, holding him together. All of him. She wanted all of him.

“God, Jess,” he said, his voice a million tiny sparks on her skin.