The Darkest Part (33 page)

As I thrust into her, she arches her back, her nipples grazing my chest, and her throaty moan is so sexy. Straight up missionary has one advantage. I bear down, sliding my pelvis against her clit, and she writhes beneath me . . .
fuck
.

Again, I rest my hand over her mouth so she can cry out without the worry of being heard, and she does. She bites the fuck out me, and I pump into her harder as she demands more. “Sam . . . Fuck . . . that’s it. Come for me.” She tightens around me, and I force my eyes to hold hers as she breaks over the edge. Then I bite down on her shoulder as I’m pulled deeper into her as she peaks. And I fall apart.

With a final thrust, I come undone. A guttural noise is wrenched from the back of my throat as I release deep into her, my body trembling. And then I drop against her. My breaths labored and my chest heaving with hers.

I hear the vibration of her sweet laugh, and then, “Holy fucking hell.”

Lifting up, I look down at her, taking in the glow of her cheeks, the shine of her skin, her eyes bright and jewel-like. I fucking love this girl. “I promise, it will only get better.”

I kiss her.

Sam

I wake with a hunger. Not the kind that craves food. Holden’s arm is draped over my bare hip, his chest pressed to my back. I can feel his shallow breaths as they stir my hair.

Rolling over to face him, I place my hand on his pec, splaying my fingers over his tattoo. It’s gorgeous. An exact replica of our tree. And I can’t believe how perfectly he captured it. My heart pangs.

My finger traces the scarred skin beneath the ink. I wanted to ask him how so badly . . . but I already know. Well, at least some of the answer. His father. He must have done something awful to Holden to make a scar like this, and I promised him I would never bring it up again. Wouldn’t ask. Not until he’s ready to talk about it.

He’s covered the pain with more pain. I imagine him getting this tattoo, thinking of us. Of our one, short, unfulfilled moment. And my chest is so heavy it aches. I gasp in a breath. I can only try to make it something beautiful, like he said. From now on.

His eyes blink open and, before he has a chance to say anything, I’m moving on top of him. He rolls so that I’m lying chest to chest against him. “Damn, girl. More? Already?”

I nod. “You made a promise. I’m seeing that you keep it.” Then I let my hair fall to his chest as I press a tender kiss to a branch covering the tip of his scar. He releases a shuddering breath, and I kiss him again, working my way along his rib cage.

As I scoot down, I find him already hard and ready. And I don’t deny him. I ease back and feel him sink into me.

“Fuck, Sam . . .” he whispers huskily.

I look up with a wide smile stretching my lips. “That’s what I intend to do, Holden.”

A deep laugh escapes his mouth. And I love the sound. I love that it feels like we’ve been like this forever. We fit together seamlessly. Without effort. I don’t have to hold back, ever.

I loved being with Tyler . . . but it wasn’t like
this
. Carnal. Raw. Demanding. I never knew I wanted or
craved
this until tonight. Like my body has just been waiting for it. Waiting for me to get a clue.

And I know, without a doubt—understanding for the first time—it’s possible to love more than one person. Just in different ways. I’ve been saying just that—but didn’t really believe it. Not until now. Holden completes me on a deep and honest level, to the core, where Tyler couldn’t reach.

It’s bittersweet. That I finally found it, and it was with Holden all along, but painful that I still love Tyler so much. No one will ever replace his spot in my heart.

I could be angry about the past . . . about how Tyler handled things. About how Holden handled them. But there’s no use. Nothing will come from it. I just want to revel in this moment. And I always have my sessions to unleash if I have to later.

Letting my thoughts drift away, I raise up and begin to move on top of Holden, rocking my hips, taking him in deeper. His hands go to my thighs, gripping and guiding, as I let my head fall back. Lost in him.

I should be exhausted, completely and utterly, unable to speed my rhythm, deepen our love making. But within seconds, we’re meeting each other with heavy, powerful thrusts that nearly make me climb over the edge.

Holden sits forward and wraps an arm around my waist. “No, you don’t. Not yet . . .” And then I’m brave, stopping his advance as I lift off him.

“Trust me,” I say, and he smiles, slow and sexy. My heart flutters.

Turning myself to ride him backward, I brace my knees on the bed and lower myself over him. He releases a hiss, and then his hands are on my shoulders, pushing me down hard on him.

One of his hands cups my breast, the slat between his fingers pinching my nipple, and he applies just enough pressure to make me feel it deep in my core. Pulsing. It travels into my stomach, my back. Through my whole body. That ache and charge, a flowing current.

My hips work harder, rocking and slamming against him as he thrusts to meet me each time. His fingers dig into my skin as he tightens his hold on my shoulder, his forearm anchored across my chest. His other hand moves between my breasts, giving each one attention, or maybe in an attempt to try and feel every part of me at once.

I’m becoming just as desperate as I try to take all of him into me, needing every inch of his impressive cock inside me. “Holden . . . there . . . fucking harder . . .” And when the ache builds to the point of pain—when Holden is growling and driving in as far as he can, my body screaming for release—I tumble. Falling over the edge, my body pulsing with shock waves of pleasure.

“Shit . . . Sam . . . you feel fuck . . . too good . . .” He tightens his hold around me and thrusts deep as he comes. I feel him; warm, pulsing, hard, pressing against my walls. It heightens my orgasm until I cry out, and then I’m sagging against his chest. Our labored breaths in sync.

He sweeps my hair aside and presses his lips to my neck. Then he falls to the bed with me in his arms. It’s bliss. Pure, exhausted and spent.

As I roll to my side, he holds on to my leg, draping it over him. Then he slaps my ass and then rubs it. I laugh. “I don’t know which part of you I love more.” His words zing right to my heart.

I look up and rest my hand over his heart, on the branches covering it. “I can tell you which part I love the most . . .” I slip my hand between us and roam down teasingly. He chuckles, and I stop, unable to control my laughter.

“Oh,” he says. “I figured that out. But if I’m going to keep up with you, I need to hydrate.” But then, his smile falters, his face turning serious as he runs his hand over the top of my ass cheek. “What’s the anchor for?”

Holding his gaze, I say, “Tyler.”

He nods once against the pillow. “His anchor.” Nothing in his voice betrays that he feels anything but understanding.

“Yes. I was his anchor.” Palming his chest, I push up to kiss him, loving the feel of the metal against my lips. Then, lying back down, “I wanted a reminder that I grounded him here. But wanted it somewhere no one would see.”

“Because you branded it there.”

A bit of shame swells in my chest. “Well, I wasn’t leaving the house. So going to get a tattoo was out of the question.” I breathe in deeply. “Crafting the design and heating the metal wasn’t hard. But, it was painful. And now, I kind of wish I’d gotten it inked.”

His eyebrows raise. “I can fix it for you.” My heart tightens, thinking of how he did just that with his scar. “If you want. I mean, I’m no tattoo artist. But I have been known to doodle here and there.” He winks.

Holden fixing my brand with ink, for me, for his brother, means more to me than he could ever know. “All right,” I say. “First, though. Hydrate.” I smile before rolling out of bed.

My thighs, stomach muscles, back and shoulders . . . just about every part of my body aches. But the pain is a good one. Holden worked muscles I didn’t even know I had. I smile to myself as I tug open the bathroom door and reach for the light. Then deciding I don’t want to add aggravated eyes to my list of ailments, I leave the light off, waiting to adjust to the faint light coming from the hairdryer cord.

As the bathroom lightens from black to gray, my eyes taking in the shower curtain and toilet, I turn to the sink and grab a cup. I reach for the faucet, and freeze. The room is suddenly brighter, a dim white light filling the small space.

My heart twists in my chest as Tyler’s aura appears, and then Tyler.

His eyes are knowing. How could they not be? Setting the cup on the counter, I hold his gaze in the mirror. “Hi, Tyler.”

“You took your meds.” His voice is low, husky. Accusing.

I wet my lips, my mouth too dry. “Tell me about the fight between you and Holden. The one where you found us at the dead tree.”

His nearly transparent frame stiffens. “I punched him,” he says, matter of fact. Just like Tyler would. “I fought for you. To keep you.”

With a shiver, I nod. “Yes, you did.” I swallow. “Now tell me what happened right before Holden was shipped off to boarding school.”

Confusion settles in the lines of his face. “I . . . don’t remember.” A deep ache pinches my heart.

Turning to face him, I say, “I need to get something.” He tilts his head, but I don’t give him the chance to ask as I rush from the bathroom.

Casting a glance at Holden, I push a relieved breath past my lips. His eyes are closed, his breathing shallow as his chest slowly rises and falls. I can’t believe he passed out already. But I’m thankful. I need to do this on my own. Locating my pack in the dark, I reach down and grab my phone from the side pocket.

I’d already begun to question, but a part of me is still scared. Scared to accept what I fear is the truth. If I do, I’ll have to admit that all this time, I’ve been alone. And that is beyond painful. And fucked up. It would mean that I
really
need help.

With purposeful, light steps, I find my way to the bathroom and Tyler waiting for me. At the doorway, I look into his eyes. His dark, chocolate eyes. The eyes of my best friend. The man I could have married and had a fulfilling life with. And then I bring the phone from behind my back and snap a picture.

The flash brightens the small room, and Tyler’s head jerks back. “What the hell, Sam?”

From the beginning, when I first started my research into the field of specters, one thing stuck with me. One thing I, for some reason, was always too afraid to attempt. Maybe because I didn’t want the truth. Maybe I’m better at lying to myself than I am at convincing others.

But, the specialists claim a dark entity can be captured with flash photography. And for a specter like Tyler, one that is very present, his spirit should appear in a photo. I never needed the proof before, because I told myself it was all bullshit. I already had all the proof in the world.

Holden’s words, though . . . his proof? Makes more sense. I want to believe Tyler’s not stuck here on this plane, or fading into limbo. I want to free us both from the darkness.

With a shaky hand, I turn my phone around and look at the screen.

A hotel bathroom.

No Tyler. No aura. No dark entity.

“Sam.” Tyler’s voice slices through me. “I told you. I’d stay as long as you needed me.”

An ache builds in my chest, suffocating me. I breathe through the searing. “I know . . . and you did.” A tear releases from the corner of my eye. “And I think . . . I’m okay now.” I smile.

His full lips stretch into a sad smile. “You are. And I promise I’m somewhere good. And no matter what, I’ll always love you.”

Hot tears spill from my eyes. I shut them, releasing more down my cheeks, and when I open them, Tyler’s fading. His aura growing dimmer until finally he’s gone. “I’ll love you, Tyler. Forever.” I hold out my hand to the emptiness of my mind. “Goodbye.”

Holden

Resting my temple against my fist, I stare down at Sam as she sleeps. Her hair is spread over the pillow, and she releases little clipped snores that are so adorable I can’t help the dumbass smile on my face. Oh, I’m a total creeper. But I’m owning it. On a full-on high, and I’m going to watch her and touch her until she’s sick of me.