Page 99 of Eyes in the Shadows

“So am I,” he counters easily. “I don’t want someone like me. You see brave and strong, I see hardened and jaded. You see charisma—thanks for that, by the way, I like it—but the truth is, lies come easy to me and charisma is really just another manipulation.”

I must look unconvinced, because he extends his arm. “Come here.”

I take the outstretched hand hesitantly, but he doesn’t bring me back to the bed. He leads us over to the corner of the room next to the closet, which has a long mirror that leans against the wall aesthetically. He stands behind me, making me face both of our reflections. He places his lips on the side of my neck and I watch as the hair on the top of his head blocks both of our faces. I close my eyes, not wanting to see how we look next to each other like this—where I can’t hide at all.

“We’re very different,” he murmurs against my skin. “And I think that’s what made me so crazy about you to begin with, but that doesn’t mean you’re not brave or strong or charismatic.”

He moves to the other side of my neck and I let my head tilt to the side to make room as a soft sigh escapes my lips. “You are brave—you feel for people, you open your heart and you care, and that’s one of the bravest things I can think of. I’m not brave like that. And you’re strong. You’ve been making it on your own, all this time, chasing a dream and pivoting when it didn’t work out; that takes incredible strength of will. And charisma? You’ve got Wes and Dimitri wrapped so tightly around your little finger, I’m honestly a bit jealous.”

I’m barely daring to breathe, not wanting to miss a single word, but at that I do laugh a little.

“You make me better. I’m just trying not to make you worse.”

My eyes fly open and I meet his in the mirror. “What? You could never—you wouldn’t. You amaze me, Mac.”

“Eleanor, I love you.”

A breath breaks in my throat. He loves me?He loves me?I try to turn—I don’t want to see his face reflected; I want the real thing—but he stops me with both hands on my waist.

“The only reason I haven’t said it before is because I know it’s early and I didn’t want to scare you off. I want you to know that I’m going to try to deserve you.” One of his hands comes around the front of me, finding where the edges of the blanket overlap, and disappears inside. “Now, watch yourself. Watch how beautiful you are when you come apart for me.”

My mind is swimming.

He loves me.

I shake my head as I feel his fingers find the hot, wet center of me. “No.”

He stills.

I stare at his handsome face in the mirror and I’m momentarily speechless. I feel completely overwhelmed. I’m desperate for this man who’s already given me so much, then gave me his love without the expectation of reciprocation. And even after that declaration, he’d just keep giving if I let him. But I don’t want it—not like that.

I don’t want soft and sweet. I don’t want him to give. I want to be the one to give.

“Take me—take what’s yours. Right now.” I let go of the blanket and it slides down my body, tickling the fine hairs.

“Fuck,” he moans, and I hear the noise of a zipper.

“Please, Mac. Fuck me. I want it hard. I need it.”

“Lean forward, grab the sides,” he orders, his voice labored and urgent.

I shout as he enters me before I even get my hold positioned right between the mirror and walls. Hands digging into my waist, he bottoms out in the first stroke, and pulls back, giving me no time to adjust. It’s hard, just like I asked, and frantic. My breasts bounce with the force of his thrusts.

“Open your eyes,” he grits out between thrusts. “Look at us.”

I didn’t even realize I’d closed them. But our gazes lock in the mirror and it intensifies everything tenfold. I adjust my grip as the mirror starts rattling, and lock my elbows so my arms won’t wobble. My jaw drops and the breathy noises come out deeper, more guttural.

He pulls back, swapping speed for depth, and each press of the hard head of his cock against my cervix draws a cry from my lips. I keep my focus on him, even when the edges of my vision haze in the pleasure. His nostrils flare as his breaths come out on a low grunt, and every muscle I can see in his arms and chest and neck and shoulders is taut and straining. Suddenly, I kind of love doing this in front of the mirror because of the view it gives me—I can see that he’s taking with everything he has.

His need is so wild, so addictive. I squeeze, contracting my muscles inside, wanting to grip him tighter. “You’re so good. So deep, it’s fucking amazing.”

“Fuck, you’re tight. I’m not going to last,” he groans, his brows coming down low.

“Yes, do it—come,” I say.

I can’t touch my clit, not while I’m propped up like this and supporting his weight at the apex of each thrust. But his balls are hitting me just so in this position that it’s actually making me wonder if I’ll be able to get off without the clitoral stimulation for once. His cock is definitely hitting the right spot inside of me… but I’m not close enough to see if penetration will get me there if he’s nearly finished.

“You’re going to come with me.”

---