Page 133 of False Start

“Maisy,” he said, his lips just inches from mine.

“What do you need?” I whispered as I ran my thumb over his bottom lip.

“Stay.” He traced my lips with his tongue until I shivered and gasped—then slanted his mouth over mine, his kiss slow and deep.

Tongue gliding against mine, his hands curling around the back of my neck pulling me under him, his ragged intake of breath, and the desperation in the sound detonating in my blood.

My skin turned to fire, my breasts grew heavy, and with every lap of his tongue against mine, I throbbed…wet and wanting. When our mouths broke apart, I swayed with the force of letting go, our chests heaving, our connection beating with a life of its own in the intimate space between us.

With my eyes locked on his, I peeled my tank top over my head, offering what we both needed for what may be our last time.

He only had one commitment left now that I put him on the spot for the exhibition.

After that, he’d have to deal with his demons—and despite all the ways I could help him—that was one reality he’d have to face alone.

He dipped his fingers in between my breasts and tugged me to him, his warm brown eyes roaming over my skin, flaring with heat and need.

Reaching behind me, the movement pushing my breasts against his chest and making his nostrils flare, I flicked the clasp and began to drag the straps down my arms.

With a growl from low in his throat, he only let me make it halfway before he plundered, his hot mouth sucking my tight nipple between his lips.

Wrapping his arms around me, he yanked me against him, his hands cupping my ass as he lifted me up until my legs wrapped around his waist—his mouth on me the entire time. Heavy footsteps echoed in the quiet house as he carried me through the living room, never once faltering as he feasted on my skin.

His foot made contact with the bottom stair and his gaze flicked to the wall, to the picture there of two young boys, smiling, together—safe.

“Can you guess which one I am?” he asked, his voice thick.

“I don’t need to guess,” I murmured, pressing my cheek to his as I looked at the image. “I’d know that boy on the right anywhere.”

He went still and turned to me. “No one could ever tell us apart.”

I slid my hand into his hair and met his eyes—the confusion there in the taut lines of his pale, haunted face.

His vulnerability stripped bare…something he’d rail against for sure the minute he realized he exposed it to me.

“I see you, Cain.” I whispered the words over his lips as I dotted his chin, the corner of his mouth, and that dimple in his cheek with soothing kisses. “And when you finally see yourself…I’ll be here. Waiting for you to let me love you.”

His eyes flashed and swirled—almost crazed with hunger—a starving man afraid to reach for the offering.

I gave him permission to go and my heart broke with it, the ache in my chest taking my breath away. I gave him everything he needed to walk away without guilt, without fear of who he’d hurt when he finally did.

I offered him every last bit of security he and I both hungered—longed for—the security we never dared ask for from the people we trusted to take care of us—from the parents who betrayed us.

My mother in hundreds of little ways.

His father in a devastating blow when Cain was at his most defenseless.

Those were our false starts.

But there’d be no penalty for the wounds inflicted by the people we trusted.

And I would be strong enough for the both of us until he caught up. I’d honor everything he did for me, for the chances he took by laying everything I had on that track in two days.

And then—well, we’d see.

“Don’t think—just feel,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You can doubt this all in the morning, but right now—let me love you.”

Arms tightening around me, he nodded. His body trembled under my hands, his body curled into mine, and he continued up the stairs.

Our clothes in rumpled piles on the floor, with Cain lying flat on his back staring up at me, his gaze blazing a trail his fingertips followed seconds later, I rose over him.

The minute I started to take him in, inch by steely inch, he shot up, his arms banding around me, his hands in my hair, his hot gaze never leaving mine.

Holding on to me in every possible way, even as he was letting me go.

Our bodies moved together, our hands roaming over one another, our sighs turning to moans, our fingers tightening as each roll of our hips increased our urgency—propelling us toward goodbye.

The moment he let go, his body tight, his release a low, guttural groan vibrating from deep in his chest, the broken boy he’d been showed himself in the single tear that slid from the corner of his eye right before he buried his face in my neck and retreated into the shadows again.

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