Page 100 of Drawn By Dragonblood
Releasing a heavy sigh, I loosened my hold on his body, biting my lip as he pulled away. Coolness from the air-conditioning slid over my damp skin, and I shivered at the loss of both men.
“Okay, baby?” Jon asked, wiping between my thighs with a warm towel as Elijah strode toward the bathroom.
“Yeah.” I smiled and turned my attention on him, guilt over not realizing he’d returned to my side twisting my stomach. “You?”
“Mmm.” He tossed the damp towel aside and pressed his lips to mine. “Fucking exhausted.”
I hummed my agreement even though I felt the need to push for an answer to my question. He stretched out on his back beside me, lacing his fingers through mine again.
Elijah returned and spooned my backside, and although both men soon breathed heavy with sleep, my mind refused to rest. My worry over Jon’s growing distance had started earlier in the day, soured my stomach, and haunted my mind. Sure I had unintentionally hurt my love, I lay in bed long after both men slept, thickness clogging my throat, nausea roiling in my stomach.
Jon rolled away in his sleep, curling in on himself like a child. A mere two feet away, but it seemed a mile.
I chewed the inside of my lip to death, and tears slid down my cheeks, but I didn’t stir from Elijah’s gentle hold. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to. I needed Jon to return to me, to us. Come back to what we’d agreed to, because I wasn’t nearly ready to let go of the growing emotions that had burst to life in my chest as Elijah had made love to me.
I woke, bleary-eyed and groggy. Groaning, I rolled toward Jon, but cold sheets met my hand. Jerking upright, I blinked, bringing into focus the empty bed on either side of me.
“Hey, baby.”
I whipped my head toward the other side of the bedroom to find Jon lounging on the chair in nothing but shorts, a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Hey,” I whispered back, swinging my legs to the edge of the bed.
No Elijah, I noted after a quick scan. “Where is he?”
“Gone to his meeting.”
“Already?” I sighed and padded across the large room, naked as a jay and relieved, loving how Jon’s gaze roamed down over my body, lingering on the apex of my thighs as I moved closer to him.
He sipped his coffee, glued gaze sending a tingle of warmth through me. Sitting his mug aside, he reached out a hand toward me.
My heart settled, mind rested as I curled against his hard chest and breathed in the scent of fallen leaves and earth that seemed to cling to his skin. His unbound hair tickled my cheek as I burrowed my face in his neck.
“You were sexy as fuck last night,” Jon murmured against my hair, wrapping his arms around me, and every last trace of anxiety fled my mind. “And Elijah...” He shifted beneath me.
“Are you okay, Jon?”
He expelled a heavy breath and fully relaxed into the couch with a sigh. “Yeah.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Quietness lingered between us long enough my heartbeat sped back up, and I pressed my hand against his chest, eyes clenched shut and searching as though I could read the energy beneath my palm.
“Not physically, no,” Jon finally answered.
The unsettled energy I noticed the evening before from him tingled along my skin, and I worried my lip between my teeth. I could feel his pain. His confusion. His need to keep himself safe.
We had always been close, but never had I ever experienced in my own heart and mind what he did. It was like being one with Elijah had opened up some deeper connection between Jon and I, and I refused to call it fantasy. I could feel my husband’s pain far beyond what I often empathized with.
Brow furrowing, I wished to send him some of my peace about Elijah. Share my trust of the man’s heart and intentions toward us, for I didn’t doubt him with a single cell in my body.
Elijah loved us both. Deeply and unconditionally. I’d held his gaze while every flex of his ass pushed his cock into my husband. I’d sucked Jon and saw wave after wave of Elijah’s devotion pouring from his eyes as we stared at each other while pleasuring our lover. I’d felt his caress deep inside my body hours later, his passion and love as though his hand reached inside me and placed his heart in my care.
But how did I speak such thoughts without sounding like a crazed lunatic? How did I tell Jon that I understood his pain, that I literally experienced it with every breath he exhaled?
“Talk to me,” I whispered instead, imagining my inner peace flooding from my chest, through my arm and hand, into his spirit.
“I’m fucking scared.”
