Hell Without You (12 page)

One half of a whole. That was it – how she’d felt, after she’d left. Like a broken piece, lost and useless in a big city, where she’d never be found. “So you know what I mean.” She fought to keep her voice steady.

He was still looking right at her, holding her gaze captive. She couldn’t even remember him blinking. “You know what? We were young, and we were dumb.”

Her heart plummeted. Maybe they had been both of those things … but if that was the case, what did it say about her now – that she was older but not wiser? Because she didn’t feel whole. Not even close. When she was around him, the adult façade she’d worked so hard to construct crumbled in all its weak spots, revealing her wounds, her empty places.

“I should’ve realized,” he continued, “I’d always be one half of a whole. Living without you was like living with a missing limb. Sure, I learned to function pretty quick, but I always remembered what it’d been like before – always missed what I’d had.”

Her heart flew back up, right into her throat. “I still miss what we had. Is that stupid? I’m not this new person I wanted to become. Not at all…” Realizing she’d failed to transform herself had crushed her, at first. Now, saying it out loud felt oddly freeing.

A couple scant feet had separated them throughout the entire exchange. Donovan eliminated them in one step, slipping a hand over her shoulder.

A frisson raced down her spine as his fingertips brushed her vertebrae and his forearm rested against her collarbone. His touch was light, but the air felt heavy.

“To hell with trying to be what we’re not.” His breath rushed against her face, heating her lips and making them tingle. “What hasn’t changed in seven years isn’t ever going to change. You’re here, I’m here… The way I see it, the only question is whether we’re going to fuck everything up again, now that we have the chance. There’s no one – nothing – keeping us apart.”

Her body heated, her skin tingling and tightening. In that moment, there wasn’t a fiber of her being that didn’t recognize the truth of what he’d said. There
was
no one – nothing – to stop them from being together, from finally reuniting the broken halves of their selves and getting lost in each other all over again.

And he wanted to do that – didn’t hate her for what she’d done, didn’t want to keep her at an arm’s length. The realization of freedom was intoxicating, but caution warned her against making another epic mistake, against rubbing salt in old wounds. “It’s just – it’s not like I’ve come back to Willow Heights for good.”

He bent his neck so that his forehead touched hers. “You said you were done with New York. I’m done with the Marine Corps, done with Afghanistan. We’ll never be where we can’t reach each other again. And if I can reach you, I have to have you.”

Something quivered in the center of her chest, sending ripples of relief and anticipation throughout her entire body. “I just don’t want you to be torn up after we…” She thought of him saying she held his soul captive, thought of him letting her throw burning alcohol all over his foot for the sake of feeling her touch. “I’ve been staying here with you, and when that ends, I don’t want you getting all torn up because, you know, I’m not Mrs. Kemp.”

“You’re more than that. You’re my other half, and that doesn’t have anything to do with a ceremony or a goddamn piece of paper. So don’t keep yourself from me. I’ve been trying to rein myself in ever since you showed up, trying to act normal so I don’t scare you away. I know you’ve got this idea in your head of the person you think you need to be, but I just want you to be my Clementine again. And I know you want it too. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

She reached out to touch him, too. Pressing one hand to his chest, she let her fingertips rest over his sternum, absorbing the elevated beat coming from below. “Remember that time – during that last summer – when we went to the fair?” It had been one of their last dates, before everything had gone to shit and she’d had to leave – she knew he’d remember it.

“Yeah.” His voice was so low it was almost a growl, and his breath rushed against her lips again.

“And you bought me that cotton candy just before it started to rain, and I ended up accidentally dropping it in a puddle?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I feel like that now.”

“What – all wet?” His voice was definitely a growl now. “Damn, Clementine…” He slipped his fingers into her hair, just above the nape of her neck. His lips nearly brushed hers, and his breath filled her lungs, all heat and mint.

The sound that escaped her was half-laugh, half-gasp. “I was trying to say that I feel like I’m melting.”

Still, she didn’t deny his assumption.

She
couldn’t
deny it. He was so close, and tension radiated from him like heat from the sun. His every breath, his every minute movement, held promise. There was no doubt that soon he’d see her – all of her – and discover just how ready for this she was.

Even if she’d fought it at first. Even if she’d thought it would only ever happen again in her dreams. It was real now, and she was aching for it.

He wrapped his other arm around her waist, drawing her up hard against his body. Her mind whirled with visions of him in a wet, clinging t-shirt, then in the checkered dish towel he’d used as a pathetic excuse for cover. And naked… As high as tensions had been running when he’d wandered out of bed in nothing but his skin, it had been impossible not to appreciate how perfect his body really was.

Her desire intensified when he covered her mouth with his, slipping his tongue past her lips and teeth, delving deep. He tasted just like he smelled – delicious and hot, with a hint of spearmint gum. And the sheer force of his kiss was breathtaking; her lips would definitely be swollen, maybe bruised.

And that was fine – more than fine. A mark would be something to savor, proof that this was real, that they were together again at last.

She let her fingers curl, her nails pressing into his chest, biting through the cotton of his thermal shirt. Next thing she knew, he pulled back, putting an abrupt end to her kiss.

“Are you ready – are you sure?” He still held her, and his muscles hardened against her body, tight with the same tension that lay coiled inside her. “Because I’ve wanted this for seven years. Once we get started, I won’t be able to stop.”

She took a step backward, out of his embrace. Hands trembling with anticipation, she pulled her sweater over her head. His gaze seared every inch of her exposed skin, sending a flush creeping below her collarbones. “This isn’t like the other day, when you kissed me in the kitchen,” she said, unhooking her bra clasp. “You’re not pretending to be crazy, and I’m not pretending I don’t want this as much as you do.”

Her nipples hardened instantly, pebbling in the cool air, forming stiff peaks on top of her aching breasts. She felt all wet, just like he’d said, and her pussy drew up tight as she eyed his lips. Full and swollen, she could imagine them pressed against her breasts, closing around her nipples, and the look in his eyes said that he was imagining it too. She wanted him there, wanted to look down at the top of his head and bury a hand in his hair while feeling his mouth on her body, exploring all the places where she ached for him to be.

She stripped out of her jeans, panties and socks, finally pausing when she was fully nude, and met his eyes. The familiar shade of grey sent a combined wave of memory and longing sweeping through her. This would be good – so good – and she couldn’t wait. “I want you so bad, Donovan.” She reached for his hand and guided it between her thighs.

He hadn’t moved a muscle as she’d undressed, but as his fingertips slid against her wet folds, he jerked visibly, like he’d received an electric shock.

“Fuck.” He curved one finger, pushing it past the lips of her pussy and sending it deep. “I want you too.”

Now it was her turn to lose control for a second, to reach out for something – anything – to hold on to as the shock of penetration rippled through her. Her core drew tight around his finger, wrenching as he pushed it deeper. Why had she approached him like this – why hadn’t she climbed onto the bed? She wasn’t prepared to take this standing.

She gripped his upper arm at the last second, managing not to stumble.

“I’ve got you.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close as he scraped a place deep inside her, making her moan.

“Donovan…” Everything inside her throbbed against him and her knees weakened. Leaning into him, she could feel the hard rod of his erection straining his jeans, digging into her belly.

“Say my name again,” he said, crooking his finger slightly, applying pressure to the spot he’d zeroed in on, “and I’ll make it worth your while.”

She did, as excited by the intensity that flashed in his eyes as she was by the promise.

He withdrew his finger from inside her and lifted her onto the bed in one easy movement. An ache flared where he’d been, and moisture dampened the skin where her thighs met the swollen sides of her pussy. “I missed you so fucking bad,” he said, the gravelly note in his voice demanding her attention.

She looked up at his mouth. He didn’t say another word. Instead, he slipped a finger past his lips – the finger he’d had inside her – dragging his tongue over the tip and sucking away the moisture that had gleamed on his skin a moment before.

A thrill rippled through her, causing the muscles in her belly to draw up tight. Sitting on top of the comforter, she spread her thighs apart, inviting him in. If he wanted another taste, she wasn’t about to stop him.

Dropping his hand to his side, he knelt at the edge of the bed. The sight of him on his knees had her burying an eyetooth in her inner lip, tensing as she anticipated what would come next.

His breath hit her first, rushing hot against the tender skin between her thighs. Then his mouth was against her pussy, open and wet. The shock of contact rippled through her, sending tremors through her limbs. The moment was visceral and all-consuming – she craved him like a drug, and there was no past or future, only the present. That feeling was drug-like, too – something she would’ve given anything to feel at any given point within the past seven years.

He wasn’t tentative; he never had been. Tongue and teeth against her skin, fingers digging into her thighs, he drove her to the edge in what felt like a few split seconds strung together, fractured here and there by the incoherence his touch inspired.

With his tongue against her clit, he whipped everything inside her to a fever pitch – the tension, the excitement, the sheer, crippling appreciation her body felt for his touch. Every muscle between her ribs and her hips tightened, drawn taut by a shrinking in her core. It’d been seven years since she’d felt anticipation so intense, and it took her breath away.

He slipped his tongue between the lips of her pussy, gripping her thighs tighter. Something within her gave way as he strained to be deeper inside her, breathing a ragged moan that was stifled by her body. She could feel how badly he wanted her, and it called out to an identical sense of yearning that had been lying semi-dormant inside her for so long that just thinking about it made her want to scream.

She didn’t, though. There still wasn’t enough air in her lungs. So she drew a quick breath, slid one hand down the front of her body and came with her hand in his hair, her fingertips pressing against his skull. It wasn’t about urging him closer; that wasn’t possible. It was about feeling his flesh and bone beneath her hand, anchoring him to her in the most basic way possible, capturing precious seconds of absolute security, knowing he wasn’t going anywhere.

There was no controlling the way her hips bucked beneath his open mouth, but he didn’t let up, never lost contact with her. He maintained his rhythm, increasing his pace during those precious seconds of climax.

Her entire body was flooded with pleasure, with the best of everything they’d ever shared, and she arched against the mattress, gasping. She was so consumed by what he was doing, so lost to anything or anyone else, that it felt like surrender. Her entire body tingled and her mind buzzed with the high of it, neurons and synapses stunned into compliance, unable to carry anything but thoughts of him.

When her physical peak ebbed, the mental glow remained. She opened her eyes and drank in the image of Donovan rising from between her thighs, lips wet and eyes flashing. She noticed everything at once – the hard line of his jaw, the way his dark hair bled into smooth skin at his temples, framing a face she’d hated missing, a face she could’ve stared at forever … if it hadn’t been for the rest of him.