Page 55 of Silent Is The Heart

“No. Because I’m never going to lose you again.”

His stomach rises against mine. A thick exhale leaves his lips, and his hand palms the back of my head, pulling me to his mouth. He kisses me like I set something free inside him. I kiss him back, letting him know he can have the key forever.

It’s not even foreplay, the way my hips are rocking against his now. It’s a carnal, possessive act of my body showing his body that I’m his mate. When his hand grips my ass and lifts, my mate instincts answer.

Reaching into the water, I wrap my hand around him, angling him to where we both need him right now. The second I feel his cockhead at my entrance, I thrust myself down on it like a starving savage. Our moans crash into each other’s mouths, a feral sound of relief and anguish.

I don’t want to tear my lips away, but I have too big of a message to impart with my body. Gripping the sides of the tub, I straighten up. He shifts inside me, slipping in deeper, well past my prostate. I don’t care that there are better ways to stimulate it. I just want him there as deep as he can go. I want the fullness during this moment. I want it rooted inside my body like a waypoint for the thickness of the emotions between us. Rising, I descend slowly, holding his gaze as he fills me again.

Teeth bared, he snakes his hand in anSdown my torso, fingers gripping needily at my flesh. Some people talk dirty in the heat of the moment. Some people say flowery things. For a man whose job it is to get people to speak, there’s probablyan irony in how much I enjoy his silence when we make love. I don’t need words. It’s all there in his face, in his little grunts that almost sound like growls. Easton uses his entire body to communicate, a special language just for me. Leaning forward, he grips my neck and pulls me to his mouth, shifting his hips into me as I ride him. I’ve abandoned my slow, sensual rhythm. It’s nothing short of pouncing on his cock at this point, water sloshing over the sides of the tub.

Shifting his legs, he manages to cross them underneath my ass, leaning me back against my end of the tub. I hold on, feeling weightless, but for my arms. It’s like fucking on a cloud. His hands grip my hips, my buoyancy allowing him to thrust me easily onto him over and over. I never take my eyes off his. With each yank on my hips that makes me feel wholly at his disposal, I watch. He watches me back, looking completely lost over the symbology of how it says loud and clear that I trust him to do whatever he wants to me, to use me, to have me, to consume me body and soul. ThatI’m his. Completely his.

“Yeah,” I concur with that unspoken message. “Yes. Yes.”

It might be just wishful thinking or passion, but I can feel his love saturating the room, the air, the water. “Aaron,” he pants.

It’s not a plea to speed up the climax. It’s not a warning that he’s near. It’s a statement of desperation. It’s the weight of suffering an overwhelming love. I know because I can feel it too in my chest, swelling around my heart.

“Come, baby,” I beg, saying that silly word I’ve never called anyone before. “Come.”

A low noise in his throat says he was holding back but can’t any longer after hearing those three words. He flexes inside me, so I reach for my cock, although it’s hardly necessary. He likes to watch. I’ve learned that much. So, I listen to him yell abroken sound as he shudders and stares at me as I work myself through the water.

It’s too much. So much that I have to close my eyes as the waves of pleasure ripple through me—electricity running up my legs, his heat billowing inside me, his flexed muscles brushing against my wet skin. Neither of us has any air left, but I greet his mouth eagerly when his lips crash into mine.

It’s not even kissing, just sloppy exchanges of lips. Silent gratitude.Addiction.

I exert what little energy I have left to wrap my arms around his neck as his weight collapses onto me. Closing my eyes, I decide I’m not going to let go until he makes me. The world could end tomorrow, and I wouldn’t be bothered right now.

Sometime later, I wake to a chill in the water and a chaste kiss on my lips. Eyelids heavy, they open to the sleepy, smiling face in front of me as his warm body draws back.

“Why don’t we move this to the bed?” he suggests.

“Mm,” I grunt in disapproval.

I was already home. I don’t need to go anywhere else.

Smirking, he rises and eases his way out of the tub, making me sigh until I catch a glimpse of the dimples in his gorgeous, glistening ass. Sated and exhausted, I blink through my drug-like state, watching his simple acts. Grabbing his towel off the wall hook—the one he’s claimed weeks ago. Drying himself leisurely with no sense of modesty or flair—a man in his natural habitat. My lungs ache with wistfulness at how age-old it all looks and feels, how permanent, how perfect. He could be across town right now and I think I’d still sense his presence, still feel his effect on my heart.

“Did I ever know what love was?” The mesmerized words leave my lips as a quiet thought, but they’re so much more. Irealize that as soon as he hears them, but I’m not sorry that what is felt is now spoken.

My breath hitches, worried that claiming it aloud was too much for him, but I want him to know. He looks neither scared nor uncomfortable, though, rather speechless. Smiling, I lift one shoulder from the lukewarm water as if to say, it couldn’t be helped.

It couldn’t. Falling hopelessly in love with Easton was unavoidable.

In two strides, he reaches me. Bending down, he hooks his fingers under my chin and leans in. The acceptance in his eyes is like a balm, making my eyes slip closed as he presses a soft kiss to my lips and holds it there.

“Come on,” he whispers, sounding choked. Slipping his hand underneath my arm, he gives it a gentle tug. “Come to bed.”

I rise without a care in the world, a mass of sated dead weight. He wraps a towel around me, but I don’t get the chance to take it from him. I stand obediently in my bliss, watching through tired eyes as he dries my body. Tossing the towel to the wet floor, he takes my hand.

I find myself put into bed. The light goes out, and a lean, warm body slides in next to me. I can feel the ridges of the scar tissue on his legs when they slip over mine as he entangles us under the covers, pulling me closer and tighter than he ever has before.

The thump of his heart against my ear lulls me further toward sleep. I sink deeper into the soothing darkness amid periodic kisses to my head and the gentle circling of his thumb over my arm.

No. I never had a clue what love was—until now.

A scratchy whisper dusts my temple. “I’m very happy too.”

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