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Oh god, she knew him so well, knew everything about how this mind worked and what he was feeling. “I won’t let you leave me again.” No, she wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t take himself away either. He pushed in slower than he ever had done before, wanting nothing more than this to take a fucking eternity so he could remember all of it.

“I love you,” he said again. She tightened her hold on him and dragged him downwards, all her strength pulling him so close that neither of them could breathe through the constriction. She gasped at that, gasped and moaned as she kept holding so fiercely he thought she was in pain. He backed off, giving her room. “No,” she snapped. “More. Remind me who we are.” It was enough for him to let loose a little, a shunt inwards causing her to groan out and break her arms from around his back. He missed it instantly.

“Keep touching me,” he growled, pulling his hips back and then driving in again. “Touch me all the time.” He pushed again, widening her and lowering his lips to hers so they could stay as close as he needed them to be. Not her anymore. This was about him. He knew that the moment her hands had left his skin. “Let me feel you.”

She did everything she always did then. Arms holding him, lips caressing him, moans sounding out and giving him the spark he needed from her. It was all the love he’d ever dreamed of and more. All the thoughts of them together, the air they breathed together. Her inside his mind and finding things no one else ever understood but her. So beautiful. So full of hope and happiness. His throat caught at the feelings filling him with futures that weren’t meant for him. A baby. Son, daughter. She wanted it so much, and he drove into her again without any thought of it as right or wrong. She needed it. Wanted it. He’d give her that, show her that all she wanted was everything he ever did. Her happiness. Her hope of more than he was. No emptiness. No void of nothing. Love, that’s what she wanted, what he wanted.

“I love you.”

The words kept coming from his mouth and into her lips, desperate for her to understand that he did, no matter how much of a bastard he’d been, or would continue to be. She knew, and he felt it in the moans and groans that kept coming back from her. She screamed at one point, and he broke from her mouth, increasing his hand’s bite into her skin, and headed for her throat instead, needing to suck and break skin to feel the scream again.

“Oh, god, Alex,” she said, panting as she kept up with his rhythm. “I’ve missed you.”

He hauled her up towards him and sat back on his haunches, spreading her wider so she was sitting above him. “Fuck me. Take what you want.”

She gasped again as she seated herself on him, and then started to move as she leaned away from him. He held on to her arse, watching every move she made as she ground down on him and let that hair of hers fly around wildly. She was everything. A flame nothing should ever dampen. He growled as the come started travelling through him. It rose with a ferocity only reserved for her. It was sent from him with love attached, not hate. It flowed rather than fucked for once, and he watched her intently, searching for the moment she was searching for, until she reached her hand for his and asked for it. His fingers were at her throat before she made contact with him, squeezing the delicate bones to the pressure they both needed.

“I love you,” she mouthed, eyes open and focused on nothing but him. “Tighter.”

It was enough of a command to have him pushing her back to the headboard and holding her there, his own weight taking control of what was left of their fucking. He rammed in, drove in and increased the pressure until she gasped for air under him and eventually shouted out in her pain. He snarled at the sound and pushed in deeper, wrapping her up into his arms again so they could come together. Always together. From now on they would be nothing but together, whether he was afraid or not. They would fuck together, make love together, and damned well breathe together if that gave her what she wanted from him.

The final shunt came and she clawed at his back, groaning out her orgasm until he smothered her mouth and took the sound from her. It was his. Owned and created by him. He knew it and so did she. They both did, both understood something that no one else did or ever would. And fuck, was he a lucky bastard to have it – still, even after everything he’d put her though.

“Mine,” he growled out, clasping her to him. “Mine.”

A few minutes passed in near silence, nothing but their panted breaths and her shallow moans. He breathed into her, his lips musing across hers to keep reminding them of everything they were as they let the air settle around them. Here was nice, safe, and the feel of her skin on him again made him smile and nudge her in closer still. Close. So close. Warm hands holding him. Her love caressing him. It hadn’t been like this for so long. Because of him.

“I still hate you,” she suddenly spat, levering her legs away from him. He smiled again and let her go, hands drifting from her skin as the void came again with the same movement. “You’re not forgiven.” He pulled in a breath and turned to lean back on the bed, hands behind his head. “Smug, arrogant, bastard,” she mumbled.

He watched her move to the door, grabbing at a robe in irritation, and lazily looked over her skin. Beautiful. His. Still, thankfully. He licked his lips, thinking of the rest of the time they had left on this plane, time where she could show him how much she hated him and he could persuade her otherwise.

“You’re bleeding,” he eventually said. The sight was both arousing and depressing, but he hadn’t caused the blood. Not directly.

“What?” She looked down at herself. “Oh.”

She frowned and looked at the door, then at him as if she didn’t know what to do. She seemed lost, her face a puzzle of emotions and thoughts as she hovered there. He got up and moved over to her, ready to catch whatever fall out was coming. She could cry, scream. Batter him with her hands if that would help. He didn’t care. She could use the pain and deliver it however she chose to.

“I love you,” he said, quietly, scooping her towards him. “I will always love you.” She looked at the floor. He didn’t know why. She damn well owned him, and whatever insults she wanted to fling out in the room. He deserved them all, and if holding her while she ranted and raved would help, she could have that for now. “It’s doesn’t matter, Elizabeth.” Not to him it didn’t anyway. It was her he needed, not a child.

“You would say that,” she said, pushing from him gently and turning away towards the bathroom. “You didn’t want it.”

And with that she walked off, hands wiping under her eyes and her head hung low.

Fuck.

Chapter 17

Elizabeth

Istayed in the bathroom for about an hour, hoping to hell that the plane was going to land. It did, eventually, and thankfully I heard Alex leave the room to go into the cabin. Presumably he’d worked out that I needed space. Arsehole. I could have slapped the shit out of him, and instead we made love? What was that? I can’t even say no when I want to. I did want to. I’m sure I did. Or maybe I didn’t and then his hands started and loving words that I haven’t heard for so long and ... Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just stupid. Or still hopelessly in love. Probably the latter. I need to grow a pair and man up. Slap him or something. Again.

“Beth?” A knock sounds at the door. It’s Lilah, wanting me to come out and get on with whatever it is that we’re doing for Pascal. I don’t know why. I don’t care if he’s been duped or not. Whatever he’s been he’ll deal with it in typical Pascal style. That being with a grace I have no clue how to achieve.

I look at the door catch and pull my jeans on, watching it wobble as she tries the handle. She won’t get in, I’ve locked it to keep them all out. I need more space, more time so I can keep shaking and huddling myself together. I need that. I do, because the blood is still coming. It’s dripping out of me and shedding the last of our baby. I might be dressed, but I’m barely present in reality. I’m lost in thoughts of why, how. What did I do wrong?

She mumbles something to someone. I can’t hear the words. Don’t want to. They’re probably laughing at my pathetic attempt at managing this, finding my way through. I’m so tired. I just want to wrap this duvet over my head, or stare at this door until all the feelings go away and I can see straight again.

The sudden eruption of sound that has the door flying inwards has me scuttling backwards, eyes wide as it ricochets off the closets and crashes to the floor. Alex stands there, both his hands braced on the door frame. His icy eyes glare. They’re harsh, cold, devoid of anything at all other than his normal villainous stare, and then it’s gone again in an instant and replaced by worry. I don’t want it from him, and my returning frown shows it. He doesn’t care. Love or not. All he cares about is getting his own way, which is not having children. Arrogant. Pig headed. Bastard.

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