With Every Breath (20 page)

“Eliza,” he said in warning. “My patience is at its fraying point. Don't push me right now.”

She whirled back around, eyes wild, hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. Her snarl of rage sent a surge of desire rolling over him like a tidal wave. There she was. His Eliza. His relief was stark as he watched her fury ignite into flames.

“Where the hell do you get off telling me not to push you?” she seethed. “Have you lost your goddamn mind? I didn't ask for you to be here. I didn't ask for you to hunt me down and I damn sure didn't ask for you to handcuff me to your fucking table, told to eat like an errant two-year-old who can't get up from the dinner table until her plate is cleaned.”

He shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

She sent him a look that would likely shrivel his dick if it weren't so damn hard for her already. Meek, beaten-down Eliza was not a good look on her. Ever. Fierce, pissed off, magnificent, enraged Eliza was a look guaranteed to make him come in his pants.

“Get out of my life, Sterling,” she hissed. “Stop interfering in shit that is not your business to interfere in! If I had wanted you in any way involved, I would have given you a heads-up. Since clearly I didn't, and I just as clearly recall telling you a few nights ago to stay the fuck away from me, it should be very clear to you that I don't want you here.”

“Never said I thought you wanted me here, Eliza. You may not want me here or involved, but you need me and that's what pisses you off right now. Is that clear? Since clearly you seem to think using the word
clearly
enough will make it clear to me that you've got everything under control and that you aren't in trouble and you can handle yourself. But after the chat I just had with Dane I'm not going anywhere. So start talking and quit fucking delaying the inevitable. Which, by the way, is me. Here. Involved. Not going away. Now, are we clear?”

He broke off when she went bone white, her eyes so large and wounded against her starkly pale face that for a moment he couldn't breathe. She teetered precariously and he lunged for her, certain she was going to hit the floor in the next second.

But her outburst froze him in mid-action. Her words hit him with the force of a bomb, a shudder rolling over his body until his knees wobbled and he wondered if he wasn't going to be the one who ended up on the floor.

“He killed them!” The words came out in a shriek that made him wince. “He murdered those women in the most horrific manner conceivable and I helped! I killed them! I helped kill them. I have so much blood on my hands that they'll never be clean, Wade. Never!”

Wade hadn't thought anything was left to shock him about the entire situation. Sweet mother of God. He was beyond flabbergasted. There was no way in hell Eliza had ever killed anyone in cold blood. Any kill she'd ever made would have been righteous.

But one had only to look at her to see that she believed herself to be every bit as guilty as the monster she took responsibility for.

An anguished moan ripped from Eliza's throat and she slid to her knees. She buried her face in her hands as she bowed, forming the smallest, tightest ball possible, rocking back and forth. And then her sobs broke free. Her entire body heaved with the force of her gut-wrenching cries.

Wade had had enough. He reached down and pulled her up and into his arms, hugging her tightly to his body. Tilting her chin upward so he had access, he kissed away the seemingly never-ending trail of silvery tears. He nuzzled his lips at her temple and then rained kisses down her wet cheeks and finally to her lips.

She went utterly still in his arms, like a small, frightened animal in the grasp of a much larger predator, but she didn't fight him. He kissed her lips again, feathery light, gently coaxing her mouth, lapping gently at the corners of her lips and then over the full double arch that drove him crazy every time he imagined that full, perfect bow around his lips.

“Breathe,” he whispered against her mouth, coaxing more air inward.

When she complied, her breath escaped on a sigh, giving him the opening he'd been waiting for. He took swift advantage and delved inside, nearly groaning at the sweetness of her mouth, the flutter of her tongue over his. So light and delicate, like the touch of a butterfly's wings.

He deepened the kiss, needing it—her—more than he needed to do as he'd instructed her and breathe, and he kept deepening it until he'd tasted every single part of her mouth. She melted into him, as if her strength had been utterly sapped and he was her only barrier to the world, her only protection and he was the shelter she was seeking.

He'd never felt anything sweeter than her soft acquiescence.

Her hands trembled between their bodies as she slowly lifted them, sliding her fingers over his chest to curl into his shirt, forming tight fists as she held on.

“That's right, Eliza. Don't let go. I've got you. I won't let you go. I swear it.”

As if something fiercely primitive deep inside her had been unleashed at his soft vow, she began to move urgently against him, hot, wild, like nothing his imagination could have possibly conjured, and he'd spent more than his fair share of time fantasizing about how magnificent she would be.

To his surprise and satisfaction, she took control of the kiss, pushing him back until he was once more pressed against the locked door. Her tongue, so hot and delicious, licked delicately over the contours of his mouth before meeting and dueling with the tip of his in a dance as old as time.

She kissed him with a ferocity and desperation he could not only feel but taste. He surrendered himself to her, allowing her this moment to revel in her control when her entire world had been upended.

He sucked in his breath when she slid her lips from his mouth down his jaw, and then nipping at his earlobe before going lower and grazing her teeth over the side of his neck before following it with a sharp nip that had him growling deep in his throat.

Her fingers loosened, freeing his shirt, and her hands glided across his chest, then lower, yanking his shirt up and sliding her palms over his taut abdomen and then his chest before traveling in a downward path again, this time going much lower.

She dipped into the waistband of his pants, her fingers finding him hot and turgid, shoving with growing urgency against his fly. She fumbled with the button and then he heard the throaty rasp of his zipper and then he was free, his dick thrusting outward into her waiting grasp.

Jesus, but it was like coming home. Sweat broke out on his brow and his breaths grew more rapid as he strained to suck in more air. Never had anything felt as good as her fingers curled around his erection.

“Fuck me, Sterling,” she whispered, a plea. “Take me hard and fast. Make me forget. Just for a little while, make me forget.”

Wade gently circled both her wrists with his fingers, stilling the pull of her hand on his rigid length, and then he moved her hands outward, away, and then lifted them to press her palms against his chest.

“Eliza, stop,” he said quietly. “Breathe for me, baby. Deep breaths and stop for just a minute.”

Her eyes dulled, the shadows lengthening, as shame crept into her beautiful, soulful gaze. She turned her face away, presenting only one cheek to his view, her eyes closing as a thin rivulet of moisture slithered down her face.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, so faintly he almost couldn't hear. “I don't blame you for not wanting to be tainted.”

Wade cursed savagely and then he cursed even more that she would believe for one moment that she was tainted. That he didn't want her. When he was nearly blinded by his need of her.

She opened her mouth to speak again but he reached for her chin and turned her so she fully faced him once more.

“Shut up,” he said fiercely.

And then he kissed her just as fiercely as his outburst had been to stop any further words from her. Words that had already cut him like the sharpest blade.

His fingers tightened around her chin and he softly rubbed his thumb over her swollen lips when he finally dragged his mouth from hers. Though she faced him, her gaze was downcast, refusing to meet his.

“Look at me, Eliza.”

She closed her eyes, her nostrils quivering.

“Look at me.”

Her eyelids fluttered, unshed tears collecting like gems on her lashes.

“I am not going to fuck you. I'm going to make love to you. I'm going to show you how very beautiful you are to me.”

“I'm not beautiful,” she said in an aching, pain-filled voice. “God, Wade. You have no idea how ugly I am. On the inside. My soul is so black . . . dead.”

Every word that came from her cut him razor sharp to the bone. He couldn't bear to hear a single other one. He silenced her once more with a kiss.

He took over, giving her no chance to speak, to condemn herself even further in her own eyes. Not leaving the silken heat of her mouth for the few seconds it would take him to remove her clothing, he kept his mouth fused to hers and fumbled clumsily with her shirt, unfastened her jeans, yanked downward, leaving them gathered at her knees for now.

As he unhooked her bra and used his fingers to push the thin straps down over her shoulders, he whispered into her mouth, “I'm going to leave your sweet mouth only for as long as it takes me to get you fully undressed, but I don't want to hear a single word out of it unless you're saying my name.”

Her only response was the light hiccupping sound of her breath as she sucked it in.

Moving swiftly, he took her hands and placed one over each of his shoulders for her to hang on to while he divested her of her shoes, socks and then her jeans, leaving her to stand before him in only her silky panties.

“I've spent countless sleepless nights dreaming of this,” he murmured.

Faint color rose in her cheeks, sweeping upward from her neck. She stared at him in obvious disbelief but there was also a flicker of . . . guilt. As though she'd been caught out on something she'd rather die than have be known. He smiled.

“You too, huh.”

“Wade . . .”

“I like hearing my name on your lips. Before a few days ago, you never called me by my first name. Only my last.”

Not giving her a chance to respond, he pulled her back against his body, sliding his thumbs down her sides to catch at the lacy band of her underwear. He pushed just enough that when he let go, it slipped the rest of the way down her slender legs and finally she was fully nude.

His bold gaze took in every exquisite inch of her, from her tousled blonde hair to the silky golden tufts between her legs. Her breasts were utter perfection. Gently rounded with just enough bob and sway to make a man's mouth water but they, like the rest of her body, were toned, sleek . . . beautiful. They fit with the rest of her figure. Not so muscled or flat that they were shapeless pads with only nipples to differentiate them from the rest of her body.

Her hips flared enticingly, just crying for a man's hands to palm them, to curl possessively around them while he plunged so deep inside her that they both lost their minds. And her ass. Her ass was to die for. Toned, delicious swells that also begged a man's hands in a variety of ways.

Knowing if he didn't move, didn't get them to the bed soon, he wasn't going to last another minute, he swept her up into his arms, resting his chin atop her head as he stalked over to the bed. He placed her down, ensuring that his gaze was locked with hers and that his shone with approval and desire.

“You're beautiful,” he said hoarsely, repeating his earlier assertion.

He kissed her just in case she would deny it again, and he slid his tongue inward, this time forgoing the playful teasing of earlier. He stroked in and out in long, leisurely strokes, giving her a hint of what was to come.

Reluctantly, he pulled away so he could strip out of his own clothing and he made record work of it. As he moved back to her, he saw her staring at him, female appreciation in her sapphire eyes.

He wasn't unused to women liking his body or their many creative ways of expressing their approval. But coming from Eliza it was an altogether new experience. One that made him feel not so certain of himself. But then never had making love to a woman and getting it right been more important than in this moment. With this woman.

He lay down next to her on his side and then turned her so she faced him. Their legs tangled together and one hand slid up the length of her leg, over the curve of her hip, following the indentation of her waistline and then up to cup her breast. He thumbed the firm peak, coaxing it to further rigidity before finally continuing his journey upward.

She emitted a small sigh and turned into his touch the tiniest bit when he cupped and then began caressing her cheek. Almost as if she were enjoying something so simple as his touch. The soft reassurance he was trying so very hard to give her.

“Your face is beautiful,” he whispered. “Your eyes. Your mouth,” he added, extending his thumb outward to trace her lips. Then he lifted his hand to delve into her hair, tangling his fingers deeply into the tresses. “Your hair is like silk. I could get lost in it. How it smells.”

She made a small sound of dismay when he let his hand fall away from her face, but then it turned into another contented sigh when he once more cupped her breast and toyed with the puckered bud.

“Your breasts are fucking perfect, and your nipples are the most mouthwatering shade of pink. I've fantasized about doing nothing for an entire night but sucking and licking them.”

Color bloomed again in her cheeks and her eyes grew hazy as if she were entering a different world. A dream world. But he was already there.

“But those things aren't what make you beautiful, Eliza,” he said, his tone becoming more serious.

His gaze searched hers, looking for some sign that she understood what he was saying. Or at least understood what he wasn't saying.