Rhapsody (The Teplo Trilogy #2) (13 page)

"When I went to the morgue last night, for the first time ever, I didn't walk through those doors to memorize every detail about Emma Buford. I walked through those doors because I was fucking terrified that it could have been you. I wouldn't survive that, Lillian."

His jaw clenched as something dark and volatile flared in his eyes and then died out. She wrapped her arms a little more securely around him in an attempt to offer him comfort, strength…whatever assurance he required to realize that it would never be her he went to visit in a morgue.

"Doing this shit isn't worth it anymore," he said into her hair. "This life, this job, is killing me. I want out before it takes anything else from me," he finished.

"I want that for you, too," she admitted and then hesitated. "But what if you change your mind, Tristan? What if working behind the scenes isn't enough for you?" She understood where he was coming from, she really did, but she wasn't blind to reality either.

He
needed
a battle to fight. He
needed
to save lives and make a difference and do all those things that only someone like him
could
do. He'd dedicated every day of his adult life to this because he wasn't the kind of person who could sit around and not do everything in his power to keep someone else from losing a family member like he'd lost his. The world needed heroes, and he needed to be one. That's just who he was.

If he did this, she didn't want it to be because of her. She didn't want him to wake up one morning and resent her for letting him think the choice was between his career and her. God, she would
never
do that to him—make him choose—not when she'd lost her own career because of someone else.

He was a force of nature, all strength and courage and emotion. He required an outlet for all that energy and passion. And she doubted she would ever be enough to fill the void walking away would invariably leave behind for him.

"Don't do this for me."

He cupped her face in his hands and rested his forehead against hers again. "I may never have realized how much I want this without having met you, but I
do
want it, baby. Last night was hell, and I'm tired, Lillian. It never stops. It never ends. People like Emma Buford, innocent people, keep dying and they always will. You told me that I can't save everyone and you're right. I can't. But I can save myself."

She flinched, hating when he talked about dying as if it were an inevitable end to what he did. Even though she knew he'd been headed in that direction, she hated hearing it. She didn't want that for him. But this wasn't about her and what she wanted. This was about what he needed.

"Promise me something," she demanded.

"Anything." He smiled that crooked smile at her.

"Promise me that you won't quit because you think it's what I want from you."

He frowned, opening his mouth to argue.

"I mean it," she said, cutting him off. "If you do this, you do it for you and only you. And if you decide later you want to go back, promise me that I won't stand in your way. That you won't try to suffer through it because of me."

His frown morphed into a scowl. "Why do you think you're standing in the way?"

Because she knew him, and she knew how much it worried him to think she could be hurt because of him. And she feared this decision was more about him wanting to keep her safe than it was about what he wanted for himself. He'd said himself that it terrified him to think about her in that morgue. Without that fear guiding him, would he make the same decision? Could he?

"I don't want this to be about me," she explained. "I know what it's like to have your entire life change and have no choice, Tristan. I don't want that for you. I
won't
let that be you," she added, her voice forceful.

"You won't let it be me?" he asked.

She gave him a sharp, emphatic nod. "I love you too much to let you give up something important to you because you think it's what I want. All I want is for you to be happy. And I'm not so sure you'd be happy working behind the scenes. That's not who you are."

His scowl remained for a full five count before it slipped and his lips sought hers. He kissed her hungrily, crushing her body to his as he devoured her lips before breaking away, panting. His eyes were dark, powerful desire stamped across his face. "You have no idea how much I love when you fight me, do you?"

She shook her head, feeling like she might vibrate apart soon, she wanted him skin to skin so badly.

"It drives me fucking crazy," he admitted. "You're so stubborn."

"So are you," she said, voice hoarse.

"I want to consume you, Lillian." Vivid, burning blue bored into her as he spoke, stripping her bare. "I constantly want you aching for me. But when you fight me?" A wicked smile curved his lips, something dark and predatory flashing in his eyes. She shivered, not in fear but in want. She
wanted
that side of him. God, did she want it. "When you fight me, it makes me so goddamned hard. All I can think about is making you beg for my cock because when you do? When you plead with me to fuck you or let you come? That's when I know you need me as much as I need you."

She swallowed, her stomach bottoming out at his confession.

"I've never wanted anything as much as I want you. As much as I
need
you." He pulled her forward and nipped a trail along her neck. "You own every single thought I have." His teeth sank into the shell of her ear and pulled before his mouth retreated, teeth nipping the same line they'd traced to her ear. He pulled back and cupped her face. "I'm crazy about you, beautiful."

A shudder raced through her as he smiled that crooked, heart stopping smile. She felt like she was drowning in the depths of his eyes. There was so much emotion there. So much hope. His lips brushed like butterfly wings across hers.

"You are fucking perfect, Lillian. You have no idea how wild you make me, how happy." His cock was rock hard against her stomach. "Just being near you makes me a better person. I love you," he said, his eyes blazing with sincerity. "So fucking much, I can't breathe when I look at you."

His confession hung in the air between them, echoing.

Neither moved. Neither blinked. Neither breathed. They merely stood still as his words hung between them, wide, warm brown locked on blazing, fervent blue. His heart thumped hard in his chest, as if finally saying those words, finally telling her how completely he belonged to her, had set free every emotion that had seemed so damned torturous before. They didn't feel that way any longer. The hard thump of his heart didn't hurt. Each pump sent little sparks of light shooting through his veins, burning out every fear that he wasn't good enough, that she deserved more.

He loved her. Every breath. Every beat of his heart. Every moment.

All that he had, all that he was, was hers.

Her mouth worked as he stared at her, but no sound escaped. Tears shimmered like dewdrops on her lashes. Her hands trembled at his waist. He wanted to crush her to his chest, rain kisses across her face, her throat, every inch of skin. He waited for her to say something instead, locked into immobility. He had to have her sweet voice in his ears to release him. Needed to know that she felt the truth of his words as deeply as he had when she'd said them to him.

"Say it again," she finally said, the words trembling on her lips.

"I love you," he whispered. And then again, "I love you, Lillian."

The tears gathering on her lashes fell, one wet drop rolling down each cheek.

"Tristan," she breathed, emotion choking her. Her hands pressed tighter into his sides as he swiped his thumbs beneath her eyes, collecting those two drops onto his own skin. "You…I–" she stopped speaking and shook her head as if she didn't know what to say or how to say it.

That was okay though. He could see it in her eyes. Joy. Relief. Acceptance.

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. "Every thought, Lillian," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Every touch." He stepped closer, moving until every fraction of space between them was gone. "Every part of me. It's yours until you order me away."

Even then, he would love her still. He would belong to her until his heart stopped beating. He was hers. She controlled him without even trying. Effortlessly, completely. He wasn't sure she'd ever realize the power she had over him, the power she wielded with a smile, a touch, the narrowing of her eyes…or two single tears rolling down her cheeks.

He was hers. And nothing made him happier.

Chapter Nine

Lillian stared at him in silence, letting his words wash through her until every pain, every moment of grief, and every ache she'd experienced in the last year washed away. She felt removed from reality, as if he'd plucked her from the penthouse and settled her somewhere else, somewhere where her life was exactly as it was always meant to be.

He really loved her.

Something about the way he watched her as if she were the center of his world and touched her as if he were worshipping her with every soft stroke of his hands upon her body made it impossible to doubt that he was as caught as she was. But she hadn't let herself think too much about how much she ached to hear the words from him, fearing she never would, but she
had
needed it. More than she'd known.

"I'll never order you away," she promised when she could finally speak, her voice choked with the heat of her promise. She didn't know how to put into words what she felt, how
he
made her feel. There was so much, a tempest raging through her. Want, hope, love, desire…a million different emotions shot through her with each electric beat of her heart.

His heart pounded against her chest where he was pressed so closely to her. The rapid beat matched hers. Her hands clenched into fists at his sides as desire rose, hotter and more swiftly than before. The urgency to feel his weight on top of her, inside of her, multiplied exponentially. She had to have him. Here. Now. Like never before.

"Beautiful," he breathed and tilted his hips into her as the fervent promise in his eyes deepened and darkened. That look…God, she knew that look. It was powerful and predatory and full of the wicked, wicked things he wanted to do to her. Every hard line of his body hinted at the pleasure she knew would leave her boneless, mindless, and pleading for more.

Heat twisted in her belly, contorting and spreading. His hard length pressed into her, making her moan out loud. The promise in his gaze mixed with the words he'd given her until both seemed to whisper through her veins in tandem, turning her blood to steam.

His hands tightened on her waist. She groaned aloud, incapable of silence as another raging wave of heat rushed through her. Her eyes fastened on his slightly parted lips. What would they feel like beneath hers now? Would his kisses feel different now that he'd told her that he loved her? Would it be even better than before? She didn't know, but she wanted to. Desperately.

She smoothed her hand up his abdominals and then over his bare chest, feeling the muscles bunch and gather beneath her hands, reveling in the way his body responded to her touch. Her hands fluttered against him as another wave of desire slammed into her.

"Lillian," he said, his voice husky, and then his mouth descended upon hers.

Her knees threatened to buckle.

His tongue darted out and licked at the seam of her lips. She moaned, tightening her hold on him. He backed her toward the windows without separating an inch from her. His tongue flicked across her bottom lip, taunting and teasing her. When her back bumped the window, he dropped his hands from her waist, twining his fingers around hers. Lifting both of her hands above her head, he pinned them to the glass as he'd done once before, inside
Teplo
.

Another shock of desire tore through her. The way he dominated her, moving her where he wanted her and holding her how he wanted, was exactly what she craved from him. She was his, and she needed him to stake his claim.

Without a word, he obliged.

He possessed her, and she loved it. God, she loved the things he did to her when he was like this—all dark lover and wicked alpha. Even as a plea for more ripped from her lips, he surged into her mouth, his tongue darting out to stroke across hers, unmaking her from the inside out.

Her heart leapt into her throat when he bit her bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth.

"Fuck, yes," he growled when she bit his lip in return, making it clear she wanted him wild. That she needed him stripped down and raw, as bare to her as she was to him.

The frenzy sweeping through her careened dangerously higher when he gave her what she wanted and bit down on her lip before tugging. Her tongue darted out, stroking along his. He groaned and pushed her farther into the window, holding her in place as he consumed her. Their tongues moved together, thrusting and twining around one another before parting, only to come together again, more urgently, more frenzied. Faster, deeper, harder.

Little, breathless sounds of pleasure issued from both of them as their tongues danced and dueled together. His kiss was almost animalistic. With the final walls between them knocked to the ground, he held nothing back from her, unleashing all the parts of him that he'd held in check, allowing her to see every powerful piece of him.

She pushed at his arms which were still holding her hands hostage, aching to touch him, to feel his skin beneath hers. He refused her, nipping at her lips until she was ready to scream.

"Please." She tugged at her hands in silent entreaty.

He pushed himself flush up against her instead of giving her what she wanted, and her knees buckled. His hand on her wrists, his body pressed to hers was all that kept her from melting into a quivering pile at his feet. His skin seared hers even through her dress, sending shocks of molten fire raging through her, igniting her from head to toe.

"Shit," he groaned, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth to nibble on it. "You feel good." He kissed her, drawing at her mouth as if it were a lifeline. "So soft and sweet."

"Tristan, please," she managed to force out, though she wasn't sure how. She wasn't even sure how she managed to string the thought together. She was lost in him, in his drugging kisses, in his warmth, in this moment.

His mouth found her neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh below her ear.

She cried out as her body burst to life beneath his. Her nipples hardened, tightening painfully as his uneven, ragged breathing brushed his bare chest across hers. She could feel his cock against her stomach. The heat was too much and not enough. She wanted, craved, more from him. She had to feel him skin to skin.

"Tristan," she whispered, unable to get anything else out.

"I know." Releasing her hands, his fingertips slid down her right arm, leaving behind a trail of fire.

She whimpered, writhing.

"God, you're beautiful," he rasped between more small, biting kisses to her neck. "So fucking beautiful, I can barely stand it. Knowing that other men look at you and fantasize about fucking you makes me homicidal, Lillian."

She felt the same way about him when other women gawked at him, but couldn't voice the thought right then. Not with his hand sliding down the light fabric of her dress, rucking it up her thighs. She held her breath, caught in the throes of anticipation, dying to feel his hands on her.

"I want to taste you." His eyes met hers, gleaming with greedy hunger. "Right here against the windows. Can I?"

She gulped, shivered, and then nodded. "Yes."

God, yes. She remembered what he'd said to her about wanting to take her in front of these windows for everyone to see. The thought didn't frighten or embarrass her. If anything, the risk of being caught excited the same wanton part of her that made her beg him to make her come on the dance floor. She
wanted
his face between her thighs. Right here, right now, before all of Seattle. Where they could be seen by anyone who glanced up. Maybe that salacious thought should have alarmed her, but as with so much else where he was concerned, it didn't. Nothing about what he made her want had ever truly bothered her, not even when it probably should have.

He groaned his approval, the sound a welcome vibration at her throat.

"Raise your arms for me, sweetheart."

She did as instructed as he tugged her dress higher, pulling it up her body and over her head. The cool air hit her skin like a soft kiss, sending another shiver racing through her. Her head fell back onto the windows as he devoured her with his eyes.

She felt the burn of his gaze as it swept over her, starting at her face and sweeping across her breasts and over her stomach before freezing on the virginal white silk panties she'd donned before leaving for his uncle's. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as if he struggled to keep himself from reaching out for her.

"Damn, you look good in nothing but those little panties," he said, almost as if talking to himself. And then he swept his gaze down her legs and back up, slowly. She didn't know how he made her feel so much simply by looking at her, but he did. The reverence and hunger in his expression tore through her every single time he looked at her like he wanted to eat her alive.

A shiver raced through her when his gaze settled on her face, his expression feral.

"Are you cold?"

"No."

"Good." His hands came up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing across her nipples and pulling a gasp of pleasure from her lips. "You like that," he said and then did it again.

She arched her back, nodding her head in jerky agreement.

"Hmm," he hummed, focused on his task.

She started to lower her arms, but he stopped her with a sharp, "No, keep them there."

She did as commanded, whimpering in the back of her throat as the painful burn for more swelled and receded with each wickedly slow pass of his thumbs across her aching nipples. Aside from those two points of contact, he touched her nowhere else.

The space between them seemed thick, soupy. A heavy fog of desire enveloped her, its tentacles whispering along every inch of exposed skin like unseen hands. She required more than those misty, barely there touches though. The anticipation those teasing flickers sent coursing through her was torture of the best kind.

With her eyes closed, every other sense heightened. The soft rasp of his breath sounded heavenly in her ears, a perfect counterpoint to the thump of her heart. Freshly showered, he smelled even more strongly of the outdoors and spice. The scent surrounded her until she felt as if she could taste him in the air around her, all hard heat and passion. The way her arms were pinned to the cool glass by nothing more than his command pushed her breasts up and out, sensitizing them further to every caress of his thumbs.

She felt drugged, lulled to the edge of some great chasm where desperation and love met in a gently ferocious dance. Like Giselle defying the
Wilis
queen to save Albrecht in the glade, every moment and every movement was filled to bursting with love and desperation. One fueled the other, feeding it until it became impossible to separate the two, if they'd ever been separate at all. Right then, both were tangled together in thick ropes of heady lust.

"Oh!" she gasped as the searing heat of his mouth descended on one breast and his palm on the other. Sensation intensified once more, the sharp, pleasing tug of his teeth closing around her left nipple dragging her higher. He bit, kissed, and tugged with his teeth.

Her body screamed for her to drop her arms to his shoulders and pull him closer, but she was so caught up in the tumult of sensation raging through her that she couldn't move. His mouth on her left breast and his palm on her right seemed to connect him to every inch of her, inside and out. Liquefying, burning, and reforming her.

He bit again, and again she felt it like a shockwave rippling through her very core. Her response to him was heavy in the air, the scent of her arousal thick around them. She cried out when he drew back, and sighed in relief when his head dipped immediately to her right breast, showering it with the same intense, all-over attention he'd laved upon the other. Sharp bites and dragging pulls. One after the other until she was dizzy with the sheer pleasure of it.

He pulled back, his groan of regret a perfect match to hers. "Open your eyes, Lillian," he demanded, tugging her arms down. His fingers locked with hers, weaving them together like tight threads in a tapestry.

Her eyes fluttered open as if in a dream, focusing on him and the hungry flush of his cheeks. Everything felt hazy, unreal. Everything but him and her, anyway. That felt vividly, blindingly real.

He dragged each hand to his mouth, his lips brushing over her knuckles before he let them go and dropped to his knees before her. His eyes stayed locked on hers, those two points of blue captivating her, demanding that she not blink, not look away.

She didn't dare disobey.

Out of her peripheral, she saw his hands come up. Through the haze, she felt the electric shock when they landed on her hips and inched beneath the fabric of her panties. He tugged them down her legs, his eyes communicating every confession he'd voiced tonight.

I love you.

I want to consume you.

I'm yours until you order me away.

He helped her lift one foot and then the other, divesting her of her panties. Only when they were gone did he break that soul-bearing gaze, his eyes moving in a heated trailed down her body to the flesh he'd just exposed. He reached out and traced her wet lips with a single finger, dragging it down her slit, collecting the honey gathered there.

Her legs trembled as he brought that finger to his mouth and sucked it inside with a low, wicked groan of appreciation. Muscles deep in her stomach jumped erratically as he licked her juices from his finger. She watched, breathless and spellbound, as he sucked it clean, humming in pleasure.