Page 61 of Splintered Memories
His warm hands cupped my face, his rough calluses sending pleasant shivers over my skin.
I needed more.
I pressed myself against him, straining to get as close as possible as some of my engulfing heat merged with his.
My mouth parted and his tongue gently stroked mine, tentative at first, but more bold and comfortable with each movement of mine.
A groan rumbled low in his chest, and my stomach tightened, something coiling low in my core.
My teeth sank into his lower lip, and I softly sucked. He shivered against me. Those big, strong muscles trembled under my simple kisses.
August’s hands slid from my face, gliding down my neck, caressing every dip and curve along my sides. Those big hands lingered on my hips before they reached around and cupped my backside. Before I realized it, he’d lifted me up. I reflexively wrapped my legs around his waist, my back still pushed up against the wall.
I deepened our kiss, opening my mouth to him and taking in every sensation that rippled from his touches. Our mouths moved in a practiced, graceful dance, as if we’d done this many times before. It was as if we were made for this very thing.
My fingers fisted tight into his soft, dark-blond hair; my nails bit into his scalp as our kisses turned frantic. There was a sudden shift, as if one, or both, of us realized this would eventually have to end. We couldn’t live in this blissful bubble of warmth and pleasure for long before getting burned.
No, I wasn’t ready.
My legs tightened around his waist. My hands fell from his hair, and I all but clawed at his back, trying to keep him close. So close I could hardly breathe.
My mouth devoured him relentlessly until I realized that he had stiffened against me. His mouth was tight and hard against my swollen lips.
I whimpered. The sound should’ve sent embarrassment through me, but instead there was only desperation.
“Emy.”
August said my name against my lips, and it tasted like salt.
“Please,” I choked out, refusing to pull away from him. “Don’t stop.”
But the words were sharp and bitter, and I realized that it wasn’t salt I was tasting on my lips. It was tears.
“Emersyn,” he said, his voice soft and gentle as he pulled away. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t okay.
I couldn’t look him in the eyes as that pleasant, passionate heat rippled up my spine, morphing into the beast of flames I’d been trying to beat back—pain.
My head fell against his shoulder as tears fell free and without abandon down my cheeks. Years and years of hurt that I’d locked away washed over me like the aftershocks of a cataclysmic earthquake.
Vaguely, I was aware of the tension in August’s body loosening. One of his arms locked around my waist as he rubbed soothing circles up and down my back. He pulled us away from the wall.
I wasn’t sure where he was taking me, but it wasn’t far because he lowered himself down after a few strides. I stayed wrapped around him, my arms gripping him to me in a vise as I buried my face in the crook of his neck.
His scent invaded me as I cried, wrapping around me like a soothing blanket of comfort.
He shushed me, his fingertips trailing up and down my back as sobs racked through me so violently I was surprised I didn’t crack arib.
“You’re safe,” he repeated, his words a warm promise whispered against the shell of my ear.
For the first time since I could remember, I believed that.
Forgotten, at least for this moment, was the fear. Forgotten were all my defenses and my carefully locked-away emotions. This moment between us felt almost…sacred, like he was giving me a place to lay bare all my darkness and weakness and ugliness without judgment or turning away.
At least, that was what I hoped, because that’s what I did.
I let go.
