Written in the Scars (12 page)

“That was your choice.”

I try desperately to hold on to the anger that’s being replaced quickly with my need, my desire, my craving for this man. The only man I’ve ever loved. The man that is my other half—whether it’s fucked up or not. Being this close to him puts me at a disadvantage, but there’s no denying the little balm of peace that’s washed over some of my wounds by his presence. By his touch. By the way he’s looking at me.

“It sure as hell didn’t feel like my choice,” he gruffs.

“Maybe that’s the problem,” I say, the words full of hesitation. “Maybe we aren’t the same people anymore. Maybe we’ve changed. I know you’re not the Ty I once knew.”

“No, you’re right,” he says with an arrogant shrug of his muscled shoulders. “I love you more than I ever have.”

“Fuck you,” I say, a slip to my voice that he hears.

His eyes glimmer, distracting me, and I don’t see the kiss coming. But the feeling of his lips against mine sends a zip of energy screaming through my veins.

“Ty!” I object half-heartedly, pressing him away with only a portion of the gumption I could put behind it if I wanted to. He doesn’t care. He just kisses me harder, his lips soft and smooth like I remember.

My knees go weak, like it’s some kind of first kiss, my breathing ragged like the first time he kissed me under the steps at the high school.

He drops his grip on my wrist and clenches my hips with both hands. His lips are unrelenting, working mine with such precision, such skill, that it’s all I can do to follow along.

And really, it’s all I want to do.

Our kisses grow quicker, our breathing more labored. My head is spinning, shouting at me to stop the madness. My body, my heart, lobbying in tandem to stay put because this is where I’m supposed to be.

I can’t process the arguments. All I can do is fall into an easy rhythm, be played like an instrument in the hands of the man that knows it like the back of his hand. A man that’s played it a million times, that’s crafted how it plays by his touch.

My fingers find the back of his hair and I lace them through his wet locks. He growls against my lips, the heat of his breath tingling my mouth and eliciting a fire between my thighs.

His fingers dig into my hips, his body pressing mine into the wall. The intensity of the contact at every level makes me desperate for more.

Ignoring the tick of my subconscious that tries to remind me why I shouldn’t be here, my hands hurriedly find the hem of his shirt. It’s wet and heavy, and when my skin touches the defined lines of his abdomen, we both flinch.

My fingertips skirt his chiseled torso, his body rolling against my skin, itching for connection the same as me. In a swift movement, I find the waistband of his jeans and frantically undo the button. The zipper slips down over his hardened cock.

“Ah,” I moan as his lips finally leave mine and work their way to the skin just below my ear.

Before I can register it, my shirt is up and over my head.

“Fuck, E,” he breathes as he takes in my nude body. “Damn, baby.”

“Ty,” I whisper, my voice barely heard over the storm raging outside. It’s no match for the explosion happening inside me.

His eyes never leave mine as he slips off his shoes and jeans. I watch, pinned to the spot by the words he’s telling me without saying anything at all.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he whispers as the light in the bedroom flickers and the power goes off.

My hands shake as I reach for him in the darkness. He takes my hand mid-air, like he knew where I’d be, and guides me to him. Our bodies press together, skin to skin, our hearts thumping at the same frenzied pace.

“God,” he mutters, holding me tight against him.

“Ty?”

“Yeah?” he asks as his fingers stroke my back.

The war raging inside me tears me in half. For once in my life, I go not with what makes sense, but what makes me feel better.

This time, just this once, I’m going to give in. After this, I know what I’ll have to do and it’s been a long time coming.

I take a deep, shaky breath and go for it. “Fuck me before I change my mind.”

TY

The security light kicks on at the end of the hall, a soft glow that illuminates the woman in front of me. She watches me, her chest rising and falling quickly, her eyes wild even in the dimness. She looks so fucking beautiful.

Her hair is in a wild knot at the top of her head, her cheeks pink. Although I loved seeing her in my t-shirt and hope that means she was thinking of me, I love her more like this: bared, just for me.

It takes a split second for her words to sink in, and once they do, the fire in my gut is stoked into a raging inferno. Stalking the minimal distance between us that feels like a canyon, I pin her to the wall. My hands are on either side of her head, my cock pressed against her belly.

A small, quick intake of breath escapes her lips as she feels how hard I am.

“Feel that?” I ask, my lips brushing across her cheek.

She hums, tilting her neck so my lips find the crook of her neck. I drag the pad of my tongue against her skin, tasting the sweetness beaded from the anticipation of what’s to come.

She takes my left hand off the wall, dropping the back of it onto her shoulder, and with her hand wrapped around my wrist, trails it slowly down her chest, over her breasts. Her nipples are stiff, wanting to be sucked, and my cock throbs at the thought.

My rough hand draws down her smooth torso, gliding over her belly button. Her back arches off the wall, her eyes floating closed as a soft moan escapes her lips. I let her stay in control.

My hand is twisted so the palm is centered over the apex of her thighs. She takes one of my fingers and presses it against the opening of her pussy.

“Feel that?” she moans.

“Fuck.” She’s soaking wet for me, her body begging for my attention. I flatten my palm against her body, cupping her pussy. Two fingers press firmly against her opening, and I watch her head fall back against the wall. “Feel good?”

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t have to. I know how to work this woman better than I can work myself.

Kneeling in front of her, I part her with one hand, putting pressure on her clit with my thumb. She gasps, knowing what’s coming and I smile up at her when she looks at me.

I lick her slowly, my flattened tongue soaking up every bit of sweetness I can find. Her hips roll against me, needing the friction that I’m deliberately withholding.

I dip my tongue into her, strumming small circles against her clit. Her moans fill the air, a straight shot to my dick.

Sliding my tongue up her slit again, I can feel her start to go off. I know from hundreds of times of doing this very same thing, she will explode if I touch her for much longer.

So I stop.

“Tyler,” she moans, grabbing my hair and attempting to force my face against her.

Smirking, I stand and wipe the wetness off my face with the back of my hand. “What, Elin?” I tease.

“You know what,” she groans, pulling me towards her.

I wrap my arms around her, each hand cupping her ass. Her mouth forms a perfect “o” at the contact, her body turning into putty. I knead her backside in my hands as I look into her eyes.

I lift her, letting her thighs rest on my forearms. I pin her back to the wall and her legs wrap around my waist like it’s an automatic response. I feel the heat rolling off her. The muscles in her legs clench as our bodies make real contact. She reaches down and palms my rock-solid length and guides it into her.

“Ah,” she moans, as the tip parts her. She bites her bottom lip, tugging it between her teeth. Her wetness coats me as I slide into her tightness. Her body squeezes my cock, her nails digging into my shoulder.

Beads of sweat pop on my forehead and I fight the urge just to slam into her. It feels too damn good. So fucking right.

Her skin glows in the low light, her cheeks a beautiful shade of pink. Her hair now falling wildly over her shoulders and she presses her lips together and smirks.

“That all you got?” she asks.

“Oh,” I say, dragging my cock out and then pushing it roughly back in, making her yelp. “You want more?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

Readjusting her weight on my arms, feeling her nails tug at my skin and her legs cinch around me, I slam into her once more.

And again.

And again.

The pictures on the walls rattle, one next to the light switch falling to the floor. The sound of the glass breaking echoes down the hall, adding to the sound of our damp skin slapping against each other.

“Ty!” Her breasts bounce against my chest, her legs starting to shake. It’s sensory overload.

A full-body tremble rolls through me and I have a strong need to close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of her getting off on my cock, but I’m not about to miss a moment of this. Watching her come is the most spectacular event of my life.

Her lashes lie on her cheeks, her delicate lips falling open. Her chin tilts to the sky as she intakes a quick breath and moans the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

She tightens around me in every way, and I push into her as far as I can go and let myself fall over the edge with her. It’s an execution we’ve perfected.

“E,” I growl, feeling myself explode into her body.

“Ah,” she moans, letting her head fall forward on my shoulder.

Moving slowly inside of her, I milk her orgasm, drawing out the most pleasure for my girl. Her heartbeat thumps against me, eventually slowing and evening out right alongside mine.

I want to hold her in my arms forever, feel our naked bodies touch in every way. Damn, I’ve missed this. More than I even realized.

“I hate to do this,” I say, my voice shaking, “but I have to put you down.”

My arms feel like they’re full of lactic acid as I ease Elin to the floor. She doesn’t say anything, and when she’s on her feet, she doesn’t look at me.

Instead, she scurries to the end of the hallway and finds her t-shirt,
my t-shirt
, and slips it over her head.

“I thought you hated that shirt,” I joke, attempting to put some levity into the air that’s suddenly full of awkwardness. Pulling my jeans up and searching for my shirt, I can’t pry my eyes away from her.

“I do.”

“So why are you sleeping in it?”

She runs a hand through her tangled hair and looks at me. “I’m not sure. It was just the first one in the dresser.”

I know that’s a lie. She hides that shirt from me all the time because it’s so ratty. But I let her go with it.

Nodding, I get myself back together and feel the strange build between us. I hate it and scramble to find a way to fill the hallway with something else.

“What have you been up to?”

As soon as the question is out of my mouth, her brows shoot to the ceiling. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” I say, confused. “Why do you act like it’s an odd question?”

She huffs and leans against the wall. “I was thinking you’d go now.”

“Elin, I—”

“Please. Go.”

“We need to talk,” I say.

“Not really.”

“Yes, we do. Let me explain . . .” My heart kicks up in my chest because I don’t know what I’m going to say, but I have to. And I will. I’m ready. I’m ready to get my life back. Our life back.

She pulls at the hem of her shirt. “Not tonight.”

“Will you be okay?” I ask, not wanting to leave. My hands itch to pick her up and carry her down the hallway to our bedroom. I want to pull her on top of me and show her how sorry I am, how much I love her, over and over again until she understands.

“I’m always okay.”

The bite to her words hits me full-on, and I must flinch because she reacts to it, seconds from offering her apology.

“If you need anything, you’ll call me, right?”

“I’ll call Jiggs,” she whispers.

Pressing a kiss against the top of her head, I let it linger for a few seconds longer than necessary. Hoping it tells her all the things I can’t say, I pull back. “Call me,” I insist and leave, making sure to lock the squeaky door behind me.