Patch Up (29 page)

I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of his smooth forehead against mine, his thick hair brushing my skin, and his hands going up and down on my back. “I’m afraid of so many things with and about you, but above all, I’m falling for you.”

He shivers and I tighten my grip on him, not ready to break this contact, this moment. Really, it’s a weird place to acknowledge our feelings for each other—I never thought I’d have such a talk in a graveyard and next to Juliet’s grave—but my mind is miles away from here. It’s in the possibility of what we may have in front of us, together. It’s in the hope I have in us, the faith that makes me lightheaded.

“Don’t run away again.”

“And don’t hide again. When you need to come here, just tell me.”

He nods and pulls away to smile at me, a temporary peace there in his eyes. I know his troubles have not vanished, but now he’s facing them instead of hiding them. I’m not naïve to think that just because we want to try a relationship together and because we’re falling in love with each other that all our problems will just disappear. Love doesn’t conquer all; it’s a powerful tool to overcome everything because it means you’re not alone.

“Are you ready to leave or do you need more time?” I ask tentatively, not sure how I should react to all of this. After all, if I’m being honest and despite his revelations of her death, I’m jealous of a dead girl I never even met. I will never have this part of his heart and it’s hard for me to accept it.

“I’m ready to follow you,” he replies, his voice a little shaky but his eyes are steady. He turns away, puts a lingering hand on the stone and stands up, extending a hand to help me up.

I grab it and entwine my fingers through his. I just hope we won’t break each other. As soon as we walk out of the cemetery’s gates, he crushes his body against mine and kisses me deeply. I’m shaking from the intensity and the desperation of his kiss but I revel in it, giving him back everything I have in me with each brush of my tongue against his, with each nibble of my lips. We don’t hold back this time and it’s much more than before. It’s our first proper kiss.

*  *  *

“Do you want to stay tonight?” Duke asks me after he puts away his ashtray and pulls me against him.

We’re on his bed and we’re mostly quiet, lost in our thoughts and basking in the peace we both know won’t last long. The moment we shared in the cemetery drained us both and we went back to his room—after I dropped Kate’s car key and told her in a few words everything, causing her to squeal in my ears for what seemed an eternity—and we ate a pizza.

I snuggle closer and peck his neck. “I’d like that if you want me to.”

He smiles and kisses the top of my head. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to have you in my arms all night.”

I don’t know if it’s possible to find a guy more swoon worthy. He’s unbelievable and I still wonder what I did to deserve him. My low self-esteem is still here, sometimes showing its ugly head and darkening my thoughts making me doubt everything, but I can put this aside tonight. I want to be able to bask in this bliss, this newness of us as an actual us. 

I look up at him, my head still on his chest. My eyes linger on his lips I love so much and love even more against mine and on my skin. Under my ear, his heart beats louder, faster. Mine follows immediately.

I run my fingertips over his rib cage, tracing the lines of his muscles barely visible under his T-shirt. His chest moves faster with his accelerating breath. He puts a hand over mine, securing it over his heart.

I push on his chest and with my other hand on the mattress I hover over him, my eyes taking him in. His eyes seem to speak a language that goes straight to my core, his lips so compelling, his goatee so deliciously torturous, his square jaw both intimidating and incredibly attractive, his hair that is asking for me to run my fingers through it. Everything in him is calling to me and I think I’m ready to listen.

I bite lightly the inside of my cheek and lower myself, my lips barely touching his. He’s not moving, probably anxious not to scare me and see me run away again. But not this time.

“I want you,” I say clearly, my eyes never leaving his and my lips lightly brushing his when my mouth forms the words that seal the moment. It’s so much more frightening than when I lost my virginity.

His hand that is imprisoning mine on his chest spasms. His breath hitches. With his free hand, he brings my head lower until our mouths crush fiercely together. He doesn’t waste a second to deepen the kiss, his tongue playful with mine, tantalizing and exploring.

He nibbles on my lower lip before thrusting his tongue back in, tracing the edge of mine and slipping against it, making me mad with desire. I lower my body and bask in the feel of his firm body against me.

He releases my hand, and taking me by surprise rolls us over. He’s on top of me now, treading on thin ice by switching who has the power. I freeze for a second and put both hands on his back, my fingers clawing at him to be always closer.

I slip my hands under his shirt and slowly pull it up, my fingers reveling in the feel of his smooth, hot skin. I run my nails lightly along the way. He shivers and I moan into his mouth. He sits up and strips off his T-shirt, throwing it across the room. My eyes travel along the trail of black hair running from his jeans to his navel, taking in his defined abs and up his pecs to the swaying necklace and the tattoo over his heart. His colorful arms, full of tattoos swirling and colliding into each other, turn me on whenever I catch a glimpse of them. He’s blushing. He must be blushing hard if I can see it despite his naturally tanned skin.

I tug on his arms, looking at his sleeve of tattoos and back to his face. He comes back down, careful not to crush me with his weight. “Tell me when you want to stop,” he says, his deep, husky voice sending a shiver down my spine to my toes making them curl in my socks.

For the first time in my life, I love the feel of a strong, tall male body over me, making me feel tiny, feminine and desired. I run my hands up his arms, dangerously slow. His jaw tenses, his eyes burn and I’m rewarded with a primal growl making me feel powerful for giving him some pleasure.

“We’re not going to stop,” I say, bringing his face down closer to mine, my breath trailing down his neck, my voice serious.

He kisses me on the neck and down my collarbone, pushing the collar of my hoodie to one side. “Do you realize how sexy you sound and what it does to me?”

I moan, feeling his lips moving against my hot and sensitive skin, his goatee enhancing every movement of his skilled mouth. I bend my leg bringing it up against his side, my foot brushing on the back of his denim clad leg, forcing him to grind into me. I need to feel how turned on he is. I need to know he wants me like I want him. I need to see that I’m not afraid of our desire.

He executes my silent demand and I claw at his back and hair, my movements more frantic all of a sudden. He does want me, no doubt there. “I think I have a pretty good idea now,” I reply between pants.

He grinds his erection between my parted legs and I sigh soundlessly, taken aback by the intense pleasure surging through me even though we are still clothed. He groans again in my ear and I think I’m about to lose the last remnant of my control, just like I feel his escaping him. He grinds into me again, more forceful, with more intent. My legs tighten around his waist.

“Fuck, Skye,” he mumbles breathlessly.

“Kiss me now,” I beg him, my voice raw with desire, and my eyes watering with relief. I’m not completely broken. And we can do this. I want to do this like I’ve never wanted anything as much in my life.

He kisses me roughly, his goatee scraping wonderfully on my face. I can feel his hand gliding up my side, his fingers teasing the underside of my right breast through the fabric of my hoodie. I bite hard on his lower lip and he groans, his hand now on my breast, massaging, pinching my hard nipple. But I want to feel him skin to skin. No more barriers between us. No more walls.

I push him away and he smiles tightly to me, kneeling between my legs. “Sorry, I got carried away, but ...”

“I don’t want to stop.” My right hand is on his stomach, my sweaty palm against his abs contracting at my touch. “I want to feel you against my skin. I want to feel your hands on my bare skin,” I add in a whisper, my face burning hot at my own brazen words. It’s new for me to talk about what I want in the sex department, but somehow it gives me back some power. I don’t feel like I’m trapped at Duke’s mercy. I feel like we’re doing something wonderful together.

I sit up and strip off my hoodie. In my bra and jeans, I have to fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest. He’s already seen me in my bra and panties, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t get shy when I feel his eyes roaming over my body.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says under his breath before putting his hands on my shoulder and tracing his fingers under the straps of my simple bra. He bites hard on his lower lip and slips the straps down my arms, his fingers tracing soft patterns along the way. “If you want to stop, tell me.” But under his sweet words, I hear him pleading, praying for me to not stop us, to never stop.

My only answer is to bring my hands behind my back and unclasp my bra, letting it fall between us on the tiny bed. I keep my eyes on the little piece of underwear now on my thighs. I can’t look up at him. I feel his eyes on my heavy breasts, on my hard nipples and I shiver. I want him to touch me, I want him to kiss me everywhere, but I’m tongue tied now that I’m half naked in front of him.

I can hear his erratic breath. He brings a hand to my chin and forces me to look up at him. A smile, almost wolfish like, turns up his lips. His eyes are hot, sizzling. “For our first time, we’re going slowly, but after that all bets are off. You’re giving me wicked ideas,” he says with his deep voice laced with so much passion and desire that it makes my shyness disappear. Just like that.

I lie back down and use one of my feet to pull him back on top of me. He uses his forearms to support his weight and begins to massage my left breast. His hot palm over it warms my belly, turning me on even more. Then his index finger and thumb enters the party, playing with my nipple, tugging it while his eyes look at my breast and back at my face.

Closing my eyes, I let free the deep moan that’s been building inside of me. I grab the nape of his neck and kiss him with all the need, the lust and the feelings I have for him. He doesn’t spare me before breaking the kiss and kissing my jaw and down my neck, his breath setting me on fire.

I move my hips against his, not even realizing what I’m doing until his erection grinds into me through our jeans. We both moan together. He tugs on my nipple and suddenly his mouth is on it, easing the light pain. I feel it everywhere, but mostly low in my belly and between my parted legs.

My breathing comes out in pants but I don’t care. I’m too far gone to be self-conscious. “Duke,” I say in a sigh when I feel his teeth around my oversensitive nipple. Then he releases it and ravishes the other with the same intensity and I think I’m going to come. Just like that.

But he stops and comes back up to kiss me deeply, grinding his hips again and again between my thighs. I’m sure I’m hurting him, but I can’t help running my nails on his back.

“I need you naked. Now,” he says between pants, sitting up and undoing his pants with shaky hands. His erection is straining against his black boxer briefs. God, he’s beautiful. And sexy.

I match him and strip off my jeans. He’s faster than me. His pants are already on the ground while I’m still struggling to get mine past my knees. Fiercely, all control long forgotten, he tugs them down and off in one swift move, throwing them near the closed door.

Without waiting any longer, he grinds back against me and I shiver, curling my toes at the sensation of him, of his desire against me now only separated by my panties and his underwear. He kisses me, his tongue fighting mine before dancing languidly with it.

I brush my hands down his strong back, down his boxers over his hard ass, and push him against me, making him growl. His hands are on my panties, playing with the hem, silently asking for the permission to strip them off me.

I answer by tugging his boxer briefs down. He strips them off, strips me of my panties and comes back over me, now his erection brushing against me, flesh against flesh. “We can still stop, Skye. You just have to say the word,” he whispers to my face, his eyes still hot with desire, but now also soft with concern.

I shake my head and a thick lock of my wild, frizzy hair falls on my face. He brushes it away. “I want to feel all of you,” I whisper back, my right hand running from his thick dark hair to his well-defined lips, red and swollen from our kisses.

He nods and opens his bedside table, grabbing a condom. I watch his every move as he rolls the condom on and positions himself between my thighs. He kisses me and thrusts inside of me, slowly but purposefully.

My breath catches in my throat and I close my eyes tightly. He feels incredible. We feel incredible together. I bring a hand to his lower back.

“Skye, baby, open your eyes,” he asks me, his voice wobbly.

I can feel his muscles on his back straining from the control he has to muster to not move. I open my eyes and we look at each other, wonderment visible. It’s so much more than I thought it would be.

I bite my lower lip and move my hips. Once. Twice. And then he moves slowly in rhythm. It’s maddeningly slow and I quickly feel my orgasm building. I’m panting, I’m sweaty or maybe he’s the one sweating but I don’t care. I only feel his skin brushing against mine; I only hear his breath loud and getting louder with each thrust. He puts his head in the crook of my neck, accelerating just a notch his thrusts and I moan, mumbling his name incoherently.