Page 66 of Tempting Fate

It is chewing on our souls.

Turning our love necrotic with every new bite.

“It’s not your fault, Zeke. You had no idea what he was planning either time—” I try to explain my perspective, but he cuts me off.

“No, I didn’t, but I shoulda been able to keep you safe both times. Six years ago, I shut you out when you needed me because my feelings were hurt. Instead of fightin’ for you, I ignored you. I acted like a little bitch… took your virginity when you offered it, then pouted when you left the party with Alex to protect us all. The only reason I pulled my head outta my arse was Sander’s panic. He pitched a fit, was adamant that somethin’ was wrong, and he wouldn’t leave us alone until we went with him.” Zeke exhales roughly and we both clutch each other tighter as the spectre of my eighteenth birthday party hangs over us. “Then I pussied out when it came to tellin’ you that Alex was bein’ released. I shoulda had backup in place so they couldn’t get to you yesterday. I shoulda?—”

“Someone set me up—that’s not on you.”

“Sweet thing, that text was the least of our problems yesterday.”

“What else happened?”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Zeke tells me, even as the feral glint in his gaze says the opposite. “What matters is that I’m ’sposed to be some big, badarse biker, yet I can’t keep the most important person in my life safe.”

As he bounces his leg beneath me—a sure sign that he’s about to lose it—his embrace constricts. Before I can find the words to explain how wrong he is, I feel a warm drop of liquid drip onto my bare shoulder. Looking up, I discover a single wet trail running down my fiancé’s cheek as he stares straight ahead without blinking.

My own eyes burn at the depth of pain I discover in his.

The lump in my throat doubles in size.

I haven’t seen Zeke cry since we were kids, although I thought I heard him crying once when I was waking from the surgery to try to fix my uterus. Sander told me I was dreaming and to leave it alone, so I did. But the memory has stayed with me through the years.

Zeke’s anguish makes my chest ache.

Gingerly moving onto my knees, I straddle his thighs and pull his head to my chest. Zeke folds his arms around me, fingers linked at the small of my back as he holds me close. He burrows his face in my cleavage while I place kisses on the top of his head.

Over and over, he chants, “I’m so sorry, Lily. So. Fuckin’. Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

I try to calm him. Try to tell him he isn’t responsible, but he’s lost control of himself. His leg bounces. His body shakes. He squeezes me tighter and tighter until my bruised ribs throb in protest. Panic grips me. Failure stalks me.

None of the blame belongs on Zeke’s shoulders.

It’s mine alone.

Mine to carry.

The karma I’m owed for the games I played back then.

“Zeke!” I whisper-shout in his ear as tears stream down my face at the sight of the torment I’ve caused him. “Please. Listen to me... It’s not your fault.” My fingers tremble as I wrench his head back and kiss him hard on the lips, finally silencing him. “Zeke, it’s not your fault.”

Bringing our mouths back together in an ardent meeting that tastes like sorrow, I wind my fingers through his hair and moan when he clutches the locks at my nape in his fist. We use our equally unforgiving grips to pull each other closer. As we kiss, our bodies undulate. My nipples harden where they rub against his chest, the friction setting my desire alight. His cock rises between my thighs, and once erect, twitches against my core.

Zeke’s voice is rough as he tells me, “I need you so fuckin’ bad. Always do. Always will.”

After biting his bottom lip, I confess, “I know… ’cause it’s the same for me.”

My man groans against my mouth before bending down to suck my right nipple into his mouth. I pull my fingers from his hair and run my hands over his wide shoulders, then angle my upper body so I can reach between us to stroke his cock. He kisses every bruise he can reach on my face, and then my shoulders and upper body. Once he’s done, Zeke moves his focus to my nipples, sucking and biting as he alternates between them.

“Please make love to me,” I implore when my lower tummy fills with needy heat.

Pulling his mouth from my nipple with a pop, Zeke kisses me roughly as he picks me up from his lap. As I read his intention, I use the hand that’s already working his length up and down to hold his cock in place while he lowers me down over him. He pushes inside me, forcing my body to accept him with sharp, pulsing thrusts until I’m fully seated.

I’m stretched around him, my walls gripping him tight as I return my hands to his hair and tug, making him groan. When he tucks his hands under my arse and moves me up and down over his erection, I throw my head back. It’s too much. Not enough. Just right. I’m overwhelmed, yet crying out for more in the wake of every pump of his hips beneath me. As my desire grows, I take charge, lifting myself up and down on his cock in a steady rhythm that has us both panting within minutes.

“Fuck. I’m not gonna last long.” He groans against my neck. Reaching between us, he rubs my clit. I gasp, my pussy spasms around his hardness as I near the cusp of my orgasm. “I’m gonna come. Come on, sweet thing, come with me.”

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