For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love (52 page)

I trailed fingers over the bumps of her spine, and my mouth found her nape. I couldn’t pull away. Her scent, heat, vulnerability, everything about her was addictive. With my arm around her waist and my knee tucked between her thighs, I gentled my kisses across her neck, careful not to wake her.

Her body seemed to melt against me, surrendering even in sleep. What would it feel like to grow hard beneath the stroke of her hands? To slide my fingers between her legs? To thrust inside her mouth? I wouldn’t last long. Just thinking about it tightened my stomach and engorged my cock with pulsing heat.

“Roark?”

I jerked my lips from her neck. Feck me arseways, how long had the little harpy been awake? What must she think of me, kissing and fondling her body without asking? My face burned with shame, and the rest of me screamed with aching frustration.

After a few heavy heartbeats, I shifted, rolling her to face me. I tried to unclench my jaw and blink away the desire I knew she could see in my eyes. The same look she gave me.

We stared at one another, nose to nose, neither of us moving to break apart or close the distance. When she licked her lips, the muscles in my stomach clenched, rippled lower, and settled into a throb along my swollen dick. The unrequited ache inside me was unbearable, quickening by the second, but I’d made a promise to God. Which meant there was no relief in sight.

Except she hadn’t taken a vow, and as she stared up at me, eyes dark with hunger, I knew this wouldn’t end gently.

She drew a deep breath, the words delivered on her exhale. “Please. Fuck me.”

God, I don’t ask you to make this easier, but please give me the power to do the right thing. She’s important. I know this. But I can’t ignore the feeling that she’s more important than my vow. Please give me a sign of acknowledgment.

Weeks of pent-up need shook through my body. Just a kiss. A touch. God would understand.

I buried a hand in her soft hair, knotting a shock of it at her nape. My other hand swept around her hip as I pressed my mouth hard against hers. When my tongue slipped past her lips, a trail of fire tore through me. She fell into my kiss, clinging to me as tightly as I clung to her. Instinct propelled me to climb on top of her, trapping her breathy body beneath me as I ate at her mouth, seeking her tongue, and nudging the hard length of my arousal between her legs.

My hunger for her was overwhelming, swelling inside me, and demanding release. I’d been attracted to plenty of women over the years, but none of them had affected me like this. None of them made me feel so fecking out of control, thrashing against the fetters of my vow. Maybe that was the sign I’d been waiting for. Maybe I felt this way because this was God’s purpose? Maybe He’d sent her to me so I could love her in all ways?

No, I was delusional, making excuses so I wouldn’t feel guilty about giving into this…this sinful lust.

I released her mouth and leaned back, searching her eyes.

“I want you.” My fingers molded to the contour of her waist and wandered over the edge of her bare breast. “You don’t know how much I want…but I—”

“No,” she whispered between clenched teeth. “We both want this. Please.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and curled my hand into a fist on her chest. I needed to put space between us. Right now.

My entire body constricted as I shifted away.

“No.” She rolled after me, restrained by twisted bedding.

I scooted to the end of the bed, hunched over, the ache in my groin robbing my ability to think. My hands shook violently, fighting the urge to stroke her, finger her, make her scream with desire. “God forgive me.”

“God forgive you?” She growled at my back. “Bullshit. What about me forgiving you?”

My stomach dropped. I didn’t deserve her forgiveness.

“Fuck this.” She untangled her legs from the blankets and bolted to the bathroom, gloriously naked, the perfect shape of her arse flexing with her strides.

“Evie!” I grabbed a shirt for her from the floor and a pair of pants for me and ran after her.

She slammed the door and sent something crashing to the floor behind me.

My chest collapsed. I’d started this, woke her with my selfish need to explore her body with no intention of taking care of
her
needs. I wouldn’t blame her if she cut me while I slept.

The dismay that had drawn her expression was enough to douse my arousal. I pulled the trousers on over my briefs, sat on the cold concrete outside of the bathroom, and leaned against the frame. The rustling of her movements muffled through the door, the sounds floating from the floor. I flattened a hand against the wood, imagining her in the same position on the other side.

As worked up as she’d been, I wondered if she was touching herself. She masturbated daily, right there on the floor behind this door. I’d heard her moans, caught her flushed cheeks when she emerged, and sometimes I asked her about it. She always gave it to me straight. Her unashamed honesty was one of the countless things I loved about her.

Eventually she would come out, calm and forgiving. At least self-pleasure would take the edge off her pain. My vow didn’t allow me that.

God, I’m afraid. I don’t want to fail you. Or her. Please help me understand my role in her life. I want to guard her not harm her. Please show me how to love her without disappointing you.

The longer we remained confined to the bunker, the more these feelings between us would strain. I swore to protect her, asking only for her faith in my discipline. But I was hurting her in the process.

A shadow flickered under the bathroom door. The knob wobbled, and the door swung open.

She sat on the other side, legs straight out and crossed at the ankles, her back to the wall.

I resisted the impulse to stare at her nudity and held out the shirt I’d grabbed for her. “I’m sorry. You deserve more.”

“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.” Her accent was sweet, but bitterness sharpened the syllables.

I watched as she pulled the shirt on, her jaw stiff and resolute. If I could only be as strong as she was.

She scooted toward me and leaned against the opposite side of the doorway, her gaze thoughtful.

When I draped an arm over my bent knee, she hooked her pinky around my thumb. “What do you pray for?”

I stared at our hands, relishing the connection. “Forgiveness, guidance, strength…you.”

“But you can’t have me.” Her chest hitched. “We should sleep separately.”

“No.” I interlaced our fingers. “Sleeping with my arms around you is my favorite part of every day. I won’t have it another way.”

I trusted God to guide me in my weakest moments, but the thing was, with Evie I wasn’t weak. She strengthened my heart, filled me with fight, and reminded me I was alive. I just needed to be patient. God would show me the way.

Two weeks later, He did.

*     *     *

I woke with
a strange feeling creeping over my skin. A quick glance around the bunker confirmed we were alone. Safe. Evie lay beside me, eyes closed in sleep. But I couldn’t shake this odd sensation that something was happening. Something chilly and mysterious, like a ghostly presence in the air. I bolted up and slid off the mattress, groggy and confused.

On the bed, blankets cocooned her, but that wasn’t all. A tiny bug perched on her arm. Not just any bug.
A ladybird.

I’d lived here over a year and had never had a pest problem. In fact, I hadn’t seen a ladybird since before the plague.

Tugging on a pair of jeans, I paced around the bed and scanned the ceiling and dark corners of the room for an entrance point, an infested hole where more might’ve been congregating. But the bunker was bug-free. Except the bed, and the little red body that hovered around Evie.

I had very specifically asked for a sign from God, an acknowledgment that she was more sacred than my vow.

The ladybird was named after the Blessed Lady, the Virgin Mary. It was believed that the red wings represented her cloak and the black spots her sorrows. Not only that, every gardener in the U.K. used these beetles to combat the sap-sucking, plant-destroying insects otherwise known as aphids.

The sign from God couldn’t have been clearer.

I knelt on the mattress beside her, shaking her shoulders. “Evie. Evie.”

Her lashes fluttered up. “Mm?”

“Did you read any of your entomology texts? Or any of the books on aphids?”

She closed her eyes and waved me away. “Tomorrow.”

“I read them.” I shook her again. “Evie? Do you know what the aphid’s biggest predator is?”

“My 5.56 round between the eyes.”

She was savagely sexy with the gun, but that wasn’t how I imagined her now. I was getting ahead of myself, but I held onto this sign from God with both fists as I pictured her beneath me, her body flexing, legs spread, and her soft flesh wrapped around my cock.

I hooked my hands under her armpits and slid her to a sitting position. Curling a knuckle under her chin, I lifted her eyes to mine. Even in the dim candlelight, her golden gaze stole my breath. “Aphids. The wee insects. Do you know their predator, love?”

She yawned, barely opening her eyes.

I put my face in hers and gripped her neck. “Ladybirds. The bloody aphids’ predators are ladybirds.”

The air seemed to have vacated the room. I tried to rein in my excitement, but my breaths grew shorter, faster. Sitting back on my ankles, I waited for her to notice the red and black body fluttering around her.

Her gaze landed on it, tracking it for a sleepy moment. Then she jumped out of the bed and swatted her hand. “Oh God, where did it come from?”

“Exactly.” I ran a hand over my mouth, my heart pumping with wonderment and veneration. “You are hallowed.”

Her eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

I stood still, hands to my sides, watching the unnatural way the beetle gravitated toward her, undeterred by her waving hand. “This is big. Bigger than us.”

Before humans had mutated into insectile creatures, I wouldn’t have given the presence of a ladybird a single thought. But this wasn’t just a bug. It was the message I pleaded for. I could love her how I wanted. I could offer her what she needed. God had given me His blessing.

My pulse quickened as I visually took her in, letting myself really absorb her feminine form without shame. Her breasts sat high and round beneath the shirt, her legs strong and slender as she shifted from foot to foot. She always carried herself with confidence, her shoulders back and fortified with courage, no matter what she faced. She was rare, precious, gorgeous in every sense of the word, and tonight I would know every flawless part of her.

Anxiousness curled in my gut. What if I fumbled my way through it and turned her off? What if I was too rough? What if she said
no
?

Didn’t matter. I wanted her heart and intended to earn it.

*     *     *

I followed Evie
to the couch, listening to her argue the ridiculousness of my logic. She thought I was teasing her. Flirting around an idea that could never come to fruition. Of course, she did. She didn’t believe in God, didn’t subscribe to vows or miracles. Why would she think anything had changed? I would have to prove to her I wouldn’t be stopping tonight.

But I let her say what she had to say. I could listen to her accent all night, the lazy drawl of her words, the way she licked her lips during pauses, it was seductive and hypnotizing.

From her curled up position on the couch, she watched me the way I watched her, her eyes wandering over my bare chest, lingering on the mold of my jeans. When they came back to rest on my face, they were molten gold, burning with want.

I crawled over her and kicked her knees out with my legs. Then I settled my hips between her thighs, letting her fully feel the iron strength of my desire.

“I surrender.” I breathed against her mouth. “If I were honest, I surrendered the day I met you.”

“Stop. Shit.” She pushed me away and jumped from the couch. “You told me to trust your discipline. Despite all your teasing, I did trust you. And now you’re ready to forgo it? Just like that?”

I wasn’t sure what my expression held. Maybe my determination was parading all over my face, because her eyes softened and her hands fell to her sides. The air between us shifted, sizzled, charged.

I rose from the couch and stepped toe-to-toe with her, a nervous smile twitching my lips.

Her hand went to the low waistline of her sweatpants. To hold them in place? Or to take them off? “What are you—?”

I showed her with a kiss. Irish whiskey flavored our tongues as I teased her lips apart. My already rapid pulse surged through my veins, my cock hard and painfully trapped in my jeans. Her fingers gripped my biceps as I thrust deeper into her mouth, losing myself to the wet heat of her lips.

With a groan, I pulled away. “Of all the carnal temptations over the years, I’ve never wavered. Do you know why it’s different with you?”

She gave me an excruciatingly beautiful smile. “Holing up with the world’s last lass for endless weeks might have something to do with it.”

Those had been my words, and they sounded strangely adorable and sexy in her American accent.

“Nah, love. Let me show you.”

I lifted her hand, balancing my fingertips against hers, then slid them over her palm, up her forearm to the inside of her elbow. Goosebumps trailed the electric touch. I did it again, only this time I guided her fingers over my palm, my arm, her caress mimicking mine.

Static skated my skin, lifting the hairs on my arms. It made my whole body tremble. “Do you feel that?”

She swallowed, nodded, and swallowed again.

I nodded too, padding a finger across her lips. She let me raise her hand and mirror the movement on me. Her finger was so soft against my lips, so inviting. I was more aware of my body than I’d been in my life. I didn’t just feel her on my skin. I felt her inside me.

I pressed my palm over her heart, and she followed suit. Her beat under my hand thumped in chorus with mine. This was where I belonged.

Hooking a finger in her waistband, I yanked her body flush with mine. When she gasped, I used her surprise to capture her mouth.