You know, sweetheart, I know I'm fucked up. But if you think the guy trying to protect you instead of walk all over you is the one trying to run your life, you're just as fucked up as I am.
I prefer to think of it as a knack for coming to your rescue," he declares huskily and winks, before he proceeds to wipe up my mess. Oh good God. I've made Chris Merit my janitor. And, he winked at me. I can barely breathe."
It's our scars that define us, Sara. Diego has to live life to appreciate life." "Yes." A knot forms in my stomach at the idea that I still don't know how deeply Chris's scars define him."
His mouth comes down on mine, harder now, more demanding, a raw, hungry need in him rising to the surface. "You belong to me," he growls. "Say it." "Yes. Yes, I belong to you." His mouth finds mine again, demanding, taking, drawing me under his spell. "Say it again," he demands, nipping my lip, squeezing my breast and nipple, and sending a ripple of pleasure straight to my sex. "I belong to you," I pant. He lifts me off the ground with the ..
When I want something, I go after it. And baby, I want you, and all I can say is you might be smart to run before I get any more into you, but please don't.
Do you know what happens when you push a dragon? They burn you alive, baby. You're playing with fire. I've played with fire tonight with Chris, pushed him to be that dragon, and the way he's looking at me now, the way he sees what I do not want him to see, is burning me alive. I know in that moment that I cannot keep asking Chris to show me who he is and not be willing to show him all that I am.
There's a price for not taking care of yourself as you claim you do so well." His eyes lift to mine and there is mischief in their depths. "I'll have to punish you." I glower at his reference to how well I take care of myself. "Don't be a smart-ass. I can take care of myself." "So you say." His lips quirk, his eyes twinkle, and his dark mood has lightened in a flash as it often does. "I'm just looking out for us both. I need you alive and w..
Baby, I held back today to let you get over all you've been through. But don't let that mislead you. You wouldn't be here if I planned on protecting you from me.
Darkness surrounded me, a complete absence of light that left me shaking inside. No. It wasn't the darkness that had me shaking. It was him. I could feel him, even if I could not see him. Oh yes, I could feel him. In every pore of my body, every nerve ending I owned, I could feel him.
Tell me I helped," I say, and it's a demand. I need to know I can be what he needs, that we can get through the darkness together. "You do more than help. You're the reason I take my next breath." The hoarse declaration whispers against my lips a moment before he kisses me, the tenderness in the touch of his tongue caressing mine telling me more than his words."
Where I needed to go was where I ended up. I was shutting you out, like I shut everything out, and you pulled me back. You made me see what was important. What's real. You made me see you." His lips brush mine. "See me now, Sara." "I do see you." "No. You don't. You see what happened tonight and what you've decided that means for us. See me now, Sara, like you made me see you." He kisses the corner of my mouth and his lips travel down my ja..
He pulls the door shut behind him and drags me against him, murmuring softly, "I understand why you left. I understand everything." I cling to him, holding on for what feels like dear life. "I should have told you." "You would have." He pulls back to look at me. "When you were ready. We all have to deal with our inner demons in our own way, in our own time."
You're afraid to count on me." "I'm afraid of not being able to count on me." There is a hint of emotion in his stare before his expression becomes unreadable. He drops his hand from my arm. "I understand," he states, his voice monotone, his expression impassive. I think I've hurt him, and reality slaps me in the face. I've let myself think of him as some kind of demon, to avoid the real demons of my past. In two small steps I am in front o..
I told you I do not do anything because I have to. And I don't. But to be inside you right now, baby, I have to. I need to. And, yes - right here in the kitchen.
My boss is dictating my preventive hangover care, and I just used the word swords in reference to his obvious cockfight with the man I just made out with in a public hallway. I am truly in an alternate universe.
The past is a part of you and us. You can store it away someplace different, but you can't make it go away. And you can't even resolve it until you, we, face it.
My head drops back and I have a fleeting out-of-body moment where I see myself in the window, my hands tied above my head with my legs wrapped around the neck of Chris Merit, while he does delicious things to my body.
You do know Chris is thoroughly fucked-up, don't you?" My reply is instant, defensive. Protective. "Aren't we all?" "Not like Chris." I don't ask how he knows. It could be the club. Maybe a friendship that once was and is now lost. It doesn't matter. "It's his imperfections that make him perfect," I reply, and there is conviction in my voice."
My voice softens. "But you're right; I should have told you where I was going. I'm sorry to make you worry." "Damn it, Sara." He twines his fingers in my hair and lowers his mouth one hot breath from mine. "You are the reason I take my next breath," he whispers. "Why can't you see that?" His question steals the last of my anger. I soften against him, my fingers curving around his jaw. "Let's go home, baby." He kisses my forehead. "I have so..
She's right, and yet my blood pumps faster, just thinking about having her naked and willingly at my mercy. I can't help but think she's exactly what I need: a challenge. And how sweet her submission would be, because I'd really earned it.
All I know is he's letting me see it, and him, and he is exactly what he preaches. Raw and honest, and intense and I believe in this moment that we are a rainbow of the same colors, none of them bright or beautiful. We are the many shades of gray and black, hoping to find a glimmer of light in each other, not more darkness.
I've been called worse," he assures me, "and perhaps I am guilty as charged. I guess it depends on who is defining what constitutes a lady's man." The statement strikes me as true beyond its intention. How many of us allow others to define us and thus we become what they want us to be, not what we should be or could be?"
I'm letting this Rebecca mystery make my mind run wild. Actually, my whole life feels like it's running wild whereas only weeks before it was calm and uneventful. I'm standing on a high-rise ledge and walking the edge, and while there is fear and apprehension, there is also a high I can only call an adrenaline rush that I crave more and more each day.