Torrential (16 page)

“Take me,” I manage, the heat pulsing in my stomach. “Please.”

He tears off my shorts and panties, casting them away. I’m exposed, naked in the sand. He’s above me, carved into perfection like a statue, but alive with a passion I’ve never seen before.

He fi
ngers me with a vivid intensity. I want to be consumed by him, I want every part of him inside me, and I tell him so, gasping. Inside of responding, he bends over my stomach, drawing his tongue in a line from my bellybutton to—

Oh, God.

His mouth moves over my clit and I arch my back, the sand grinding into my shoulders. I can feel his breath in the most private part of me, a place nobody else has ever seen. He pushes two fingers inside me, then three, so hard—at the same time, his tongue presses hard against my clit.

I make a noise that’s half-shriek, half-sob, my stomach rising and falling as I try to remember how to breathe.

This is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

Everything below my stomach is on fire.

He rears up, his mouth glistening, and jerks his pants open. He’s incredibly hard, straining. His eyes are full of that starving hunger again, and I want it, I want him—

He grabs my wrists, pins them above my head, and pushes inside me.

The feeling of him sliding into me makes every muscle in my body contract. I’m tight, and the pain mingles with the purest pleasure in the universe. He leans down and kisses me violently, hungrily. I taste a trace of blood. He moves his hips back, then forward, and I moan into his mouth.

“I wanted to save you from me,” he breathes into my ear. “But you wouldn’t let me.”

I have no idea how to form words. All I can do is lift my hips slightly, ramming them into his. He understands—he pulls back momentarily and then shoves hard, sinking so deep inside me I can feel it in every part of me. Something breaks, and the sharp snap of pain is nothing compared to the building volcano in my chest.

“Y—you,” I try. “I…”

“What do you want?” The tiniest hint of an arrogant smile tilts his mouth as he draws in and out of me, slowly.

“Hard,” I pant. “Fast.”

He obeys, ramming into me with quick, deep strokes. I cry aloud, wordless, as he bites the side of my neck. I can’t take it anymore. The feeling is enormous, too big and growing, and I writhe under his grip as it comes to a head and I—

He comes at the exact same moment I do, shuddering as I twist under the waves of perfection flooding me. The tension in his body releases as he presses against me,
and I feel him breathing hard, our exhalations mingling in the night air.

I feel like I’m floating.

And I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ll spent the next few days picking sand out of difficult places.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MAY

That night, I dream of him.

He’s standing at the edge of a cliff. The sky roils dark and tumultuous, the clouds nearly black. Lightning flashes through them. He’s not facing me, but I can see the angles of his bare back, the way the wind whips his hair.

“Sebastian!” I scream, but he doesn’t hear me.

And then he falls.

Shock and horror splinter together in my chest. I run to the edge, crying out, and look down, but Sebastian’s nowhere to be seen in the tossing water below, waves breaking white and frothy against sharp rocks—

If I dive in after him, I’ll surely die—

But I can’t leave him—

I turn, intending to race down to the shore and run into the water, but I’m stopped by a dark figure. It’s Sebastian. His eyes are no longer gold—they’re black. And he’s smiling.

“Sebastian,” I sob. “I thought you were—”

“I am,” he says coldly. “I’ve been dead inside for years.”

“No,” I whisper.
“You’re not. You’re—”

“I tried to warn you. But you wouldn’t listen. And now there’s no going back.” He steps forward, his face pale and angular. My feet are rooted to the ground, and for the first time, fear crawls up my back. He reaches out, and at first I think he’s going to caress my face, but then his hand closes around my throat.

Suddenly, there’s no air left in the world.

“I told you I was dangerous.” Pain crackles in his voice. I gasp for breath, but his fingers tighten around my neck. My chest feels like it’s going to explode. “
Don’t you understand? Now that I’ve let you in, you’ll die because of me.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong, but I’m barely conscious now. He’s lifted me off my feet.

“So I might as well kill you first.”

I snap awake, completely disoriented, my hands at my throat. But there’s nobody choking me. I’m breathing fine. Slowly, my heartbeat returns to normal, and I remember where I am. Sebastian’s room. Well, his on-campus apartment. I’m buried in his bed, which is a complete luxury compared to my rock-hard twin—a king with what I’m pretty sure is a feather mattress.

What a stupid dream.

It’s dark, the only light filtering in through the curtained windows. I become aware of a dull ache between my thighs and smile to myself, closing my eyes and trying to relive what happened on the beach. Even thinking about it makes me tingle. I almost want to wake Sebastian up to do it again.

I roll over to steal a glimpse of him, asleep on the other side of the bed. And then I realize that something’s wrong.
He’s sleeping, but he’s rigid, twisted in the sheets. His body is drenched with sweat, and I can see the pain on his face even in the poor light.

“
Sebastian?” I whisper.

“No,” he spits through gritted teeth. “Not her. Please—” He lets out a low cry.

He’s having a nightmare. Hastily I reach over and seize his shoulder, shaking him. His skin is clammy. “Sebastian! Wake up!”

After a moment, his eyes snap open. He looks at me without recognizing me, his expression blind. It sends a knife through my heart. Instinctively I embrace him, feeling his heartbeat pound throughout his body. “It’s okay. It was just a dream.”

I feel him relax against me, just barely. “You’re still here,” he says quietly.

“Of course I’m still here. Where would I go?” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “Are you okay?”

He places a hand on his forehead, inhaling deeply to recover himself. “I’m fine. I’m sorry to wake you.”

“No, I was awake because—” There’s no way I’m telling him about that dream. Knowing him, he’d probably feel guilty for what his dream-self did. “I was thinking about what we did on the beach. It was incredible. I guess I would have expected it to hurt more, but…”

“What do you mean, you would have expected it to hurt more?” He sits up and switches on his bedside lamp. The golden lamp falls over his chest, which is still beaded with sweat. “May, are you a virgin?”

“Well, not anymore,” I point out.
He groans and flops back against his pillow, shutting his eyes. I frown. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not one of those ‘no sex before marriage’ types.”

“If I’d known, I would have been more…gentle.” He drags an arm across his eyes and sets his teeth. “Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“You didn’t! I’m a wimp about pain, okay? If it had hurt, you would have known. I would’ve been shrieking my head off.”

“If I remember correctly, there was some shrieking involved.” A note of slyness creeps into his voice.

I smack his arm, flushed. “That was your fault, not mine.” Then I realize. “Wait, was that a joke? Did you just make a joke? The notoriously humorless Sebastian Crane?”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s not something I bother with often.” He stretches his arms above his head, yawning. I catch sight of that weariness in his eyes—a weariness I finally understand, if he has nightmares like this every night.

I jostle him again. “I’m not so sure about that. Maybe all you need is some excellent sex to turn you into a comedian.”

“Maybe you’d like to test that theory,” he says in a low voice, and the hunger flickers back to life in his expression. The sight of it brings a rush to my stomach.

“Didn’t you say you had a private shower…?”

A very wet, steamy, and exhausting forty-five minutes later, I’m wrapped in a towel, my body throbbing pleasantly with the remnants of what I think was at least two orgasms. Sebastian stands by the curtained window, naked, the moonlight filtering across his muscled torso. It’s three a.m.

I sneak up behind him and slip my arms around his stomach, amazed that he’s letting me do this, wondering if morning will come and our new whatever-this-is will end. “What was your nightmare about, Sebastian?”

He doesn’t look at me, merely stares through the gauzy curtains at the moon. “My mother being shot. Except when I looked twice, it wasn’t her. It was you.”

I died in both our dreams. The coincidence is strange. I tighten my grip. “Nothing is going to happen to me.”

He turns, gently stroking my face. “You can’t promise me that.”

“Fair enough. But I can promise that nothing bad will happen to me because of
you
.” I lean into him, feeling the hard curve of his hipbone against mine.

“You’re so determined
to convince me I’m something I’m not,” he says softly.

“
No,” I correct. “I’m determined to make you see the value in the person you already are.”

“May…” He touches my bottom lip. “I’m starting to think I love you. And that’s the worst thing I could ever do to you.”

Love. The word stuns me into silence. I haven’t thought about honestly loving someone, other than a friend, for years. I’d made my decision long ago—I wasn’t going to fall for anyone. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Sebastian since I met him. It’s a feeling unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I don’t know what to call it.

What if love is the right word?

Somehow that terrifies me, and I have to change the subject. I find his hand and grip it. “Swear to me you won’t pull away tomorrow, like you always try to do. Not again. Not after this.”

His eyes flicker. “You ask a lot of me.”

“I know you’re afraid,” I press. “But you can’t live your life separated from other people. No one deserves to be that lonely. The only way you’ll learn you’re not a danger to others is if you let them in. And…I want you to start with me.”

It’s probably a presumptuous thing to say, but I hold firm despite my misgivings. He looks impen
etrable in the moonlight, his profile a million miles away. But then the corner of his mouth twitches. “Something tells me you’re not going to let me pull away.”

“No, I’m not,” I say determinedly.

“I’m not going to lie to you.” He draws me against his chest, something in his eyes flickering. “Now that I’ve had you once, I don’t think I could let you go.”

“Likewise,” I murmur.

“I want you, May.” His voice roughens with emotion. “In every way I could want someone. You’ve demolished every wall I’ve built to keep from caring from anyone, and that work took years. I don’t know if I can forgive you for that.”

“Some walls are made to be
destroyed.” I brush the lightest kiss onto his chest.

He gazes at me for a long while. “You are impossibly beautiful. Did you know that?”

I’ve never thought of myself as even pretty, but when he says it with that tone, I can believe him. For someone who’s suffered so much, it’s amazing that there can still be that much kindness in his voice.

“Let’s go out tomorrow,” I say suddenly. “On…on a date. We can go out for breakfast, wherever you want,
go see a movie—take a walk—that sort of thing. Just have a really nice day, together.”

“That sounds…interesting,” he says, his voice momentarily far away. Then a smirk crosses his features. “It might damage my reputation, you know. To be seen doing such ordinary things.”

“Maybe we need to start toning down your reputation a little. Then maybe people will be less afraid to approach you.” I smile.

“And then I’ll be mobbed with girls the same way I was when I first arrived here. It took a while to get them off my back.”

I don’t like the idea of him being mobbed with girls. It must show in my face, because his smirk grows wider. He brushes my hair over my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Anyone seeing me with you would understand they didn’t have a chance.”

Once he lets down his guard a little, he’s like a completely different person. Warm. Almost…open. I can still sense the wariness lurking underneath it,
but it’s like his inner self—kind, with a hint of cockiness—has been yearning to air itself out. I’m amazed at his transformation. And I find myself caring so deeply about this person that it nearly takes my breath away.

He’s already so different than he was when
we first met. When he spoke to me at the pool, he froze the entire room with his coldness, his cruelty. Now I know that was just an act. He wants to scare others away because he’s afraid of hurting them.

I want to prove him wrong.