Three Little Words (12 page)

            I caught a glimpse of his wide grin as I bent to unlace my skates.

            “You’re worth the risk.”

            The words made my heart do a funny little dance in my chest. When I straightened back up, he averted his eyes, and I narrowed my own at him.

            “Were you just looking at my butt?” I wasn’t offended—he’d seen my butt in way more

            compromising positions, and he’d seen it way more naked. But I wondered what he’d say, so I’d asked.

            The Mal of a few years ago would have blushed and stammered. Grown up, confident Mal just grinned and looked my front side up and down.

            “I most certainly was.” That leisurely perusal of my body woke nerves that I’d thought were long dead, and I couldn’t quite suppress the shiver of excitement when he leaned in and whispered in my ear.

            “Can I walk you home?”

            There was enough steel in Mal now, that I figured I would be getting an escort home whether I wanted it or not. It was sexy, that new, fiercely protective side.

            I realized that there was no one in my world who made me feel safer. And that security let my newly rediscovered sex drive coming roaring to the surface.

            “Sure.” I swallowed thickly when his fingers found the curve of my waist, urging me to walk ahead of him. The touch vibrated over my skin.

            I knew he hadn’t come here to just walk me home. He surely had found out that I’d seen Dorian earlier. He was here to stake an equal claim.

            I found I was inclined to let him.

            And I also decided that I wasn’t going to feel guilty about it. After everything I’d been through, I deserved some happiness, some fun. And if that fun came wrapped in two tall, tasty packages instead of one?

            They could hammer that one out themselves.

            Emboldened by my decision, I laced my fingers through Mal’s as we started to walk through the dark. I heard the sudden intake of his breath, felt the quick squeeze of his fingers.

            But this time, the small show of togetherness didn’t send him running, not like it had when we were younger. This time, he seemed content to just go wherever the night took us.

            We walked in silence, neither of us speaking until I guided us through the gate in a short chain link fence. The fence bordered a postage stamp sized square of grass, but that grass was tidy, and more importantly, it was
mine
.

            Taking ownership of the condo, of feeling that something was under my control, had gone a long way down the road to let me become a functioning human being once again.

            “This is your place?” Mal asked as I opened the front door. I heard the hint of surprise in his voice, and understood where it had come from—just the front entryway of the small condo that I’d steadily made my own since I’d inherited it spoke of a different woman that the one who’d lived in the cheap apartment decorated with chaos.

            I didn’t feel any anger at his surprise. I was a different woman now.

            He was a different man.

            “It is indeed.” Sliding out of my boots, I flicked on several light switches. Leaning against the wall by the front door, I watched as he explored the small main floor of my home.

            I’d painted the walls the color of heavy cream, giving in to my love of color in blankets and cushions that I’d stitched myself, the fabrics different textures, different shades of emerald green, crimson and teal blue.

            It still reflected me—but the me I was now was a far more subdued version of the vivid girl I’d once been. Not worse—I refused to think that.

            Just different.

            “You
have
changed.” Mal turned and, sliding his hands into his pockets again, looked me right in the eye. There I saw regret, and I didn’t want that.

            I’d learned the hard way that wishing something had or hadn’t happened could swallow a person whole.

            Smiling at him, I gestured up the stairs.

            “We’ve both changed. Now come on, I’ll give you a tour of the rest.” My movements were casual as I started up the steps, but I’d made up my mind, and I knew what I wanted... if I could go through with it.

            This afternoon I’d started to think that maybe Dorian was a safer bet—there was no history there.

            And I had the feeling that he would take control, which would allow me to simply
feel
.

            But that shared history with Mal was what made me feel so safe. Made me feel like I could take this step, could open myself back up to something I never thought I’d be able to do again.

            Not to mention how much I wanted him. I watched from the doorway of the small master bedroom as Mal wandered, looking into the second bedroom, which mostly held things that didn’t really fit anywhere else, and the bathroom. When he approached me again, his expression serious and so sexy, with those glasses perched on his nose, my pulse began to pound double time.

            “Last night I told you that I wanted to get to know you again.” He stopped just far enough away from me to give me my space, but closer than anyone but a potential lover would stand. “Have you thought about that?”

            Sucking in my breath, I slowly, tentatively reached out and rested my hand over his chest. I felt his pulse, strong and steady, against my palm.

            “I’m not the same girl anymore.” I let my hand slide down, until it splayed over the iron flat expanse of his abdomen. I don’t think he realized that he moved in response, but his hand came up to cup my cheek, echoing the gesture Dorian had made earlier that day. “And it goes far deeper than what I wear, or the color of my hair.”

            He nodded to show me he was listening, his eyes intent on mine.

            I wanted so badly to tell him. I knew in that moment that I
could
tell him, and that he wouldn’t run.

            But what he would do was blame himself for leaving me in the first place. And I wasn’t going to place that guilt on his shoulders. What had happened to me was the fault of no one but the two bastards who had carried out the deed. It wasn’t even
my
fault, even though I’d put myself in one hell of a vulnerable position by being angry, disappointed and drunk.

            It had taken me nearly a year and a half to understand that—that I didn’t carry the blame, despite my own stupidity. That I didn’t have to feel guilty. I didn’t want to pass any of that guilt on to Mal.

            So no, I wouldn’t tell him. But I could give him something else—I could give him the trust that I’d held so closely to me for years now.

            With Mal I could be normal. I thought maybe I could with Dorian too, but this moment felt right, so I made my decision.

            I was going to start taking my life, my sexuality, everything that made me a woman back right now.

            “Malachi.” I said his name slowly, savouring the feel of it on my tongue. I’d always loved his name, loved the way it rolled off my tongue.

            It had been so long since I’d allowed myself to say it, so I said it again, and watched his eyes darken.

            “Adele.” His voice was tight with obvious need, need that he was holding back for me.

            I didn’t want him to hold it back even more. I was going to dive in, head first.

            Rising to my toes, I braced my hands on his shoulders, then pressed a kiss to his jaw. I felt him drawn up tight against me, quivering like a bow.

            I pressed another kiss to that glove tender skin, and then another.

            “Adele.” Malachi’s voice was strained, and I looked down to see his fists clenched. “Are you sure —I mean, I don’t know if I—”

            His voice broke off when I tangled my hands in his hair and brought his mouth down to my own.

            This wasn’t the butterfly light brush of lips that Dorian had teased me with earlier. This was a demand that he open for me, that he let me in.

            I needed him to let me in, because if I couldn’t go here with Mal, then there wasn’t anyone else who could help me.

            “Adele.” Mal groaned against my lips. I ran my tongue over his mouth, then in between his teeth when he parted his lips.

            The thrust of his tongue against my own was like velvet steel, stroking my banked excitement to full flame. The memory of his taste merged with what was happening right in that moment, intensifying the sensation until my knees began to tremble.

            “Adele.” Breathless, Mal pulled back, his hands sliding down to clasp my waist and hold me tight.

            Pressing his forehead to mine so I had no choice but to look right at him, he exhaled deeply.

            “I need you to say the words. I need you to tell me that you want this, that you trust I won’t hurt you.”

            I froze for a moment, my body turning to a block of ice. How did he know? I hadn’t told him. Who had?

            Had he seen those pictures on Facebook? It made sense—everyone else had. The tattoos that sleeved my arms made it easy to tell that it was me, photographed and plastered on the internet for eternity.

            He shook his head, his forehead still pressed to my own.

            “I don’t know what happened to change you, Adele, but I still know you well enough to know that something almost broke you.” Hearing my shame spoken out loud, I began to tremble. “You’re strong, so strong, and I promise that this time I’ll cherish you. I’ll savor you before it’s too late. But I have to hear you say it.”

            I was floored by his words. Speechless, I pulled back, looked up into those insanely blue eyes.

            Everything I’d felt for him before roared back to life, but doubled in intensity, because of the man that Mal had become. The connection that I could feel pulling between us, bringing us closer right that moment, was more than just old friendship and lust.

            In that moment, I didn’t have to push through any fear, didn’t have to convince myself that this was the right time to be intimate with someone again.

            In that moment, I wanted to be consumed by what I felt.

            “Malachi.” Never taking my eyes from his, I gently pushed at his chest until we were in my bedroom, until the edge of my bed hit the backs of his knees and forced him to sit.

            Bracing my weight on hands placed on his shoulders, I looked down into his eyes.

            “Mal, I want this. This isn’t about me using you to help me through my issues, okay? I want to be with you because I want to be with you. And I know that you’re not going to hurt me.”

            “Jesus, Adele.” Reaching up, Mal tangled his fingers in my hair, brought me down for a kiss that was almost reverent.

            When he pulled back, and we looked at one another, that reverence melted, changed, transformed into something else, something hot and needy, something that wouldn’t be ignored.

            I wanted to taste the essence that was unique to Mal. I wanted to watch this good man with the filthy touch to unravel under my touch.

            When we kissed again, our mouths collided. Mal’s fingers tangled in my hair, stroked over my back, caressed my hips.

            I could feel the power in his kiss, his touch—power restrained. His hands trembled with the restraint. He was holding back, letting me call the shots.

            One day, I wanted to unleash the beast, to let him go wild on me.

            Today, even though my pussy was already wet and aching, I needed to go slow.

            Pushing on his chest until he lay back on the bed, I took a step back. Mal propped himself up on his elbows to watch as I slowly, so slowly, lifted the hem of my T-shirt, baring the curve of my belly, then my breasts, clad in the front fastening sports bra.

            Then the shirt was off, tossed to the floor and forgotten. My fingers strayed to the clasp of my bra, undoing it, the curves of my breasts holding the fabric in place in what I hoped was a sexy tease.

            From the darkening of Mal’s expression, I think I could say that it was. I could see the rigid length of his cock, pressing against the thick denim of his jeans.

            It had to be uncomfortable. But the fact that he was so obviously aroused but was holding back made me bolder still.

            “Unzip your pants. Take your cock out.” My voice didn’t sound like my own, low and raspy with arousal. “But stay where you are.”

            I lifted my fingers to my own waistband and watched as he did what I told him to. The button went first, and then the zipper was lowered. The metallic rasp scraped at the air, the sound erotic as hell.

            “Pull your cock out.” I wanted to see it, had to see it. Once I’d thought I’d never want to see a dick ever again, but I was craving Mal’s.

            Slowly he reached into his boxers, then pulled himself out, the elastic catching under the soft sacs of his testicles.

            My mouth watered as my eyes greedily took in the engorged length, the shiny, wet head.

            I wanted to taste it, wanted to taste
him
.

           
Slowly
. I knew I had to go slow, so I didn’t awaken any of the nightmares that lurked inside of me like demons.

            “Your turn.” Mal told me, fisting his hand around the engorged shaft of his cock. His thumb swiped over the top, and I watched, fascinated, as precome dampened the head. “I need to see you.”

            Hands trembling, I slowly peeled away the fabric that clung to my breasts. My nipples were already tight with arousal, but the chill of meeting the air, of feeling Mal’s stare on them, made them contract even further.

            I slid the straps of my bra down my shoulders, and let it fall to the floor.

            “Take off your shorts.” Mal’s fist moved up and down his cock once, twice, and heat washed over me.