Page 74 of Hearts Of Darkness

“Damn this fucking life,” he groans. “Damn it straight to hell!”

“Come with me,” I beg him, drinking in the sharp contours of his face, his beauty no less dulled by these new scars. I remember my dream last night. I remember his smile. I remember how happy it made me feel to see it. “Turn your back on it, Dante. Walk away.”

His face contorts in agony. “I can’t.”

“There’s nothing left for you here.”

“It’s not that…” He curses, and I see the conflict written all over his face. “Christ, you have no idea, my angel, and I hope you never do.”

My dream begins to fade. My hopeless tears are drenchingboth of our cheeks. If this is how it has to be, I need to feel our connection one last time. Moments later, I’m tearing at the zipper of his pants. He reacts quickly by dragging my skirt up around my hips. I’m so wet for him, the moisture is slicking the top of my thighs as he slams me back against the door, his tongue engaging in a feverish dual with mine. I fling my arms around his neck to pull him closer, but he winces and twists away.

“Fuck!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I broke my shoulder.”

“Are you serious? You need to be in a hospital!”

He stares down at me for a beat, his lips twitching, and then I watch in wonder as the smile I dreamed about creeps slowly across his face.

I’m mesmerized.

It’s a sliver of light penetrating the bleakest of circumstances. It’s so much more than I’d hoped it would be. His first genuine smile for me is a thing of rare beauty—banishing his darkness and transforming his face into a priceless memory.

“Why are you so happy?” I whisper.

The smile widens. “For a moment there I could almost fool myself that you cared.”

“Idocare, regardless of how wrong and messed-up that sounds. I hate you. I want you. And I’m fucked if I understand any of it.”

“Don’t curse.”

“Fuck you!”

“I have to send you away, Eve.”

“I wouldn’t stay if I could.”

“I need to be inside you…” His last sentence tails off on a groan. Instantly that beat is back, my stomach muscles tightening in anticipation.

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” I tell him, and his eyes gleam with comprehension.

He takes a step back to unfasten his pants. I quickly wriggle out of my skirt and remove my T-shirt and bra. I can’t think about the horrors of his past. I’ve banished shame and guilt, momentarily. I want him too much—this man who desires my body as much as I desire his.

“You’re beautiful,” he states, raking his eyes over my nakedness, as if he’s committing every curve and flaw to memory. His dark pupils are nearly black with lust.

“So are you,” I say, climbing astride him, tipping my head back and moaning as he guides a nipple toward his mouth.

He sucks at it hungrily, his erection nudging the inside of my thigh as I gently rock my hips back and forth creating an exquisite friction between us. One hand is kneading the soft flesh of my ass, directing and encouraging me constantly, while the other lies redundant at his side. His shoulder must be hurting like hell. Pleasure is the only medicine I can offer him.

Lifting my hips, I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock and guide him toward my drenched sex, sinking slowly, savoring every perfect inch of him as he stretches me to my limits and beyond. He curses and stills as I work him all the way into me, tilting forward until my clitoris is pressed tightly against the burning skin and soft down of his lower abdomen. And then I pause, relishing the sensation of being filled so utterly and completely by him.

“I never dreamed anything could feel this good,mi alma.”

“Never forget me.” My breath catches in my throat.

“You are forever imprinted on my soul.”

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