Page 79 of Devotion

But oh, the tears come now, bitter and hot. Pouring out of me like an infection from a wound. I look up into Shakal’s eyes and see the same agony there, tears rimming his eyes, and I cannot bear it.

That I caused him pain.

The first man to ever tell me he loves me. The first man I have ever fallen for.

“I am so fucking broken, Ci…” I whisper, clinging to his shirt. Pathetic.

But his name on my lips draws his arms around me, pulling me close to him in the freezing night air. He is warmth, heat. He is a beacon of light.

Blasting away the darkness inside my soul, casting aside the voice in my mind that has always told me I do not want comfort or affection. Certainly not love. That it is weak.

“I am too, Van. I’ve always been broken.”

And he lifts me up, cradling me as he takes me into the house. He sets me down, dries my tears, wraps me in a blanket and holds me. What is this?

In moments he has a flame kindled in the old brick fireplace. The glow plays across the ceiling, the only light in the house, hiding my sorrow and shame.

“I am sorry for being so weak…”

“You do not have to be strong all the time.”

“You are wrong. I must. For family. See what happens when I am not? They die.”

“That is not your fault. No one saw this coming. No one could have stopped the man in the mask or protected Mat. He was one of the best fighters I know.”

“He is gone…” I sigh hopelessly.

“I’m still here.”

Looking up into those light green eyes. Seafoam. Warm waters.

And I feel my heart rise from the frozen depths of the abyss, replacing my desperation with desire. With a passionate need.

Just for him.

I take his lips, cupping his face and pulling him to me. His skin is flushed, his cheeks red from my attack. So I kiss them, closing my eyes to worship him and silently ask for forgiveness.

The backs of his fingers caress my cheek, grazing down and around my head to draw me into a deeper, slower kiss, sucking my bottom lip and teasing into my mouth with his tongue.

Where we sparred in the bedroom the other night, tonight we explore. Taking our time.

His shirt has to go, and he flips it over his head, smiling softly over me as I lay back on the couch. Fingertips scan across his chest, his abdomen, and I know I have left him bruised. Sore.

So I scoop my shirt over my head, arching my shoulders back for him to see all of me.

Those eyes trace the contours of my breasts, my nipples.

Then we are skin to skin, devouring one another’s mouths.

His heart beats in time to mine, every breath inhaling more of him, his scent and his taste. All while cut, muscular arms curl around me. Ciro is stunning, powerful.

He rises up, pulling me with him and I straddle him, feeling his desire pressing hard between my legs. It never ceases to amaze me, his size, his thickness.

“I need to feelalive,” I hum into his lips, flicking my bottom lip against his. He licks softly, toying with me.

“You brought me back to life,” he smirks, thumbing my peaked nipples, sending shivers through my body.

“Shut up and kiss me, fool.”

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