The Perfect Wrong, page 37
Filling my lungs with her sweetness, her scent, that magic I thought I’d lost forever.
When she finally moves back, she gets a good look at me. The tears well up fast and furious in her eyes.
“Holy crap. I heard they hurt you, but seeing it...”
I snort. “Yeah, yeah. I know I’m a sight for sore-ass eyes—and I’m the reason they’re sore. Why don’t you rub it in, princess?”
She blushes adorably. “I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Don’t worry. Another month taking it easy with a few square meals every day, and they tell me I should make a full recovery. Sorry you’re stuck with this grizzled, ugly asshead with an eggplant face for the next month.”
She bursts out laughing.
Or is it crying?
Hell, it’s both as she throws herself at me like a little cannonball, tumbling back onto my bed and apologizing when she realizes how bruised I am.
My legs still hurt like hell from moving this much after what they did, so I sit down next to her.
I really am a mess. Deficient in God knows how many vitamins, still lacking fluids, and exhausted as hell.
Damn if any of that stops me from pulling her onto my lap once we’re both on the bed.
My hands wrap around her greedily. I pull her into me with a raw hunger I’ve had building ever since I was saved from hell.
She’s still sobbing, shaking as my tongue finds hers, pumping in and out of her mouth.
I’ve missed this so goddamn bad.
I’ve missed believing this is real, but now that I’m tasting her, there’s no doubt whatsoever and it makes me smile like a fool mid-kiss.
“How the hell do you do it?” I growl when I finally break for air. “You taste even better than I remember, babe. Are you trying to make me rip your clothes off and fuck you right here? The hospital thing seems pretty kinky even for you.”
Laughing, she wipes her face with her sleeve.
“I’m liking this schoolgirl fall look too,” I whisper. My hand finds her bare thigh under the skirt and skims up it. “Goddamn, woman. If I weren’t this fucked up, I promise you I would mount you until they call security to haul me off in handcuffs.”
She rears back and slaps at my hand playfully, not really batting it away.
“Jerk. I guess they’re right about you recovering. I see all that crap you went through hasn’t changed you one bit. I was worried about that...”
“You joking? It takes more than a few dumb beatings to break this dick. Especially when it’s up close and personal with you.”
I can’t resist, I’m too ravenous.
I pull her in for another long, frenzied round of kissing.
Lifting her up higher, I press her tits to my chest, hands on her ass while I spin her around.
My cock throbs lightning.
Her skin on mine is like this crazy exotic drug. And I’m so hopelessly addicted that I hope when the perfect moment comes, she’ll say yes to being my high.
I hope she’ll say yes to the rest of our lives.
My heart roars like a jet engine, pure adrenaline rushing through my blood. I devour her over and over and it’s still not enough, even when it’s the only thing that stops me from taking her on this rickety damn hospital bed.
Getting yelled at by a few nurses and a possible misdemeanor for indecent exposure can’t possibly be worse than what I’ve been through.
But I can’t get Delia into that kind of trouble.
I also know when I should simmer down and rest—and dislocating a vertebra or some stupid shit from railing her soul out will only delay actually having her when I’m whole again.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here and go for a walk. There’s a decent park area outside.” I take her hand and we walk, slowly heading down the elevator.
I never let go of her for a single second.
In the morning, I’m supposed to have a new meeting with Landon Strauss and a few of his right-hand people high on the Enguard chain. With Sexton stepping down due to his injury, I know he’ll recommend me for a promotion to tactical lead.
Hell if I can find the will to care about any of that right now.
I’ve got the woman who kept me alive through the gauntlet at my side as we step into the sunlight.
That endless smile she wears confirms all the love I stirred up before is still there.
No, fuck, it’s grown.
She can barely keep her eyes off me as we sit on a bench, surrounded by greenery. Her dark hair flutters in the cool breeze.
“How’s that thesis coming? I heard how shook up you were over my shit and Evie... Please don’t tell me any of this bullshit stalled you graduating?”
“I’m basically done with the first draft. My absence didn’t last long enough to blow the whole semester,” she tells me shyly. “Pretty sure the professor loves it. He’s already hinted at pitching the final version at some academic conferences and maybe even a few newspapers. I guess people just love heroes who can’t stop heroing.”
“As long as you didn’t use my name. It’s gonna be intense enough for a while with the media up my ass over the bust in Mexico. Enguard will do their damnedest to hold the jackals at bay, but they can’t make me invisible.”
“They shouldn’t dare,” she says, leaning in to kiss me again. “Seriously. I couldn’t have done it without you, Chris, and I don’t just mean the paper. I put a lot of you—a lot of us—into this whole project. And knowing how bad you’d want me to hold it together and finish is what kept me going when everything was up in the air. I was so scared for you.”
The tremor in her voice and the way her fingers shake as they grip mine tell me just how torn up she was.
“I’m home now, woman. No plans on winding up stuffed into an almost-grave again. And I’m a little disappointed you stuck with that SEAL psychology-mercenary project.” I pause as her eyes search mine. “Couldn’t you write a damn good paper on a chick who falls head over heels for her jackass stepbrother?” I grin.
Goddamn it feels good.
She sticks her tongue out.
“You wish. That’s a little too personal, but I promise you there’s plenty of passion in what I wrote.”
“Yeah, whatever, babe. Of course I’m gonna read it.”
She instantly flushes and snaps away from me. “What? No way! That’s for my professor and his stuffy journalist friends. And the university archives, I guess. Not for your amusement.”
“Like hell. We both know it’ll wind up somewhere online. You said he’ll probably shop it around to papers and journals, right?”
Her simmering silence tells me the answer.
“Come the hell on, Miss Reporter. You’re too good to keep your stuff hidden, and we’re done hiding in the shadows.”
We laugh. Then she tells me about her latest misadventures with Marnie.
Apparently, it’s been a part-time job helping her friend navigate the first real relationship she’s ever had with some dude who’s only partly tangerine. Looks like we’re not the only ones getting bit by the love bug.
“Oh yeah,” she says, pursing her lips as she looks at me. “There’s more news—you won’t be my stepbrother much longer.”
“I heard. Already told your old man to do what he can to keep his money away from Ma before she gets serious help. Maybe there’s a custodial account or something to help pay for the treatment,” I say.
“Good call. It was so terrible, Chris, the way everything imploded... Then Evie just ghosted, running off to who knows where until she started siccing her lawyer on him. It sounds like she ponied up the money for a good one. But Dad’s lawyers are better—supposedly the best you can buy. I just wish he didn’t have to pay a dime for so much misery. Can you believe they were only married for five months?”
“He’ll be fine,” I tell her, throwing an arm around her again. “I think the man would pay through the nose to have my mother out of his life, too, and who can blame him?”
She smiles sadly.
Then it really hits me.
With Bruce in my corner, there’s no one left to convince we deserve our forever but the beautiful brown-eyed minx in front of me.
That should be a dream come true—and it is—but it’s also more serious than any other mission I’ve had in my life.
“What’s up? You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” she whispers, laying her head on my shoulder.
“Just thinking about what we’re doing once I’m discharged,” I whisper in her ear, skimming my fingers up her side. “It’s been too long, Delia. If I didn’t have to worry about re-breaking a bone or whatever the fuck, I swear to God...”
“Yeah. I can’t wait,” she whispers excitedly.
If only she knew I don’t just mean having her under me.
Because the day I leave this hospital, I’m marching straight to the bank when she isn’t looking, where I’ve got my vault.
My grandma’s ring is there, and with one small adjustment, I’m sure it’ll be Delia’s size.
I’m glad as hell Gram kept that on the down-low. Ma never knew about it and couldn’t just pawn it off for drug money or another cruise to hunt down her next man toy.
Sure, I thought about buying her something more modern, whatever comes with the biggest diamond I can afford while I was rotting away in that cell.
But diamonds grow on trees in this town of loaded rich dicks, and so do designer rings.
Delia deserves nothing but the best.
There’s no other ring on the planet like this one, an intricate and beautiful design fit for royalty.
Who else’s finger would it ever fit?
It was made for the only woman who could ever keep bringing me back, making me my best self.
Today, as I sit in the sun holding her, I’m the one who’s experiencing shock and awe when I know how grateful she is that I’m home.
With every last breath, I’m thanking all the lucky stars in the sky that I’m alive and loved.
In under a week, it’s Delia’s turn to be awed, and I vow I’ll blow her panties off.
* * *
She’s there for me the day I’m discharged.
We swing by my place to pick up a few supplies and stop for our rental truck. Then we head south, out of the city.
I’m not wasting any time moving on to warmer beaches and this cozy little rental I’ve reserved.
“Where do you think you’re going, beautiful?” I ask.
We’ve just walked inside and she tries to walk past me. I grab her, pull her into the bathroom, and put my lips on hers.
“I need a shower. Newsflash, you’re joining me,” I say.
Her hands slide down my chest. Fuck, a thousand words can’t describe how much I’ve missed those nimble little fingers on my skin.
With fall styles in full swing, I’m missing her skirts, but I still can’t wait to get her jeans off so I can feel how wet she is. Her pussy has a scale ranging from juicy peach to strawberry wine and I’m not shy about letting her know it.
“Yeah, you’d better bite that lip,” I growl in her ear. “You’ll be doing a whole damn lot of that this week so start in early.”
“Poor man. You’ve been so deprived,” she whispers shyly.
“Babe, these balls are smurfberries. I’m counting on you to make them human again.” It’s my turn to bite her soft bottom lip as I lean forward.
My hand finds her ass and starts stripping her naked. Delia stands shyly, still biting her lip, trying to play down the fact that she wants this as much as I do.
I’d bet my last dollar she’s missed being ravaged.
When she steps out of her clothes a minute later, I slide the thick bathroom door shut and flatten her against it, breathing deep, inhaling her like the unhinged animal I am.
“No clue. You have no fucking clue how bad I’ve missed you,” I whisper, sucking at her throat, hellbent on marking her. “Shit, Delia. Do you even know how many times I stroked my cock to you while I was laid up? I thought they’d need to sedate me.”
I can’t wait another second.
My hand slides between her legs and pushes them apart.
Then my fingers find her heat, sinking deep into that pussy I’ve spent an eternity in hell waiting for.
She feels just as slick and hot as our first time.
Hell, I swear she’s wetter, aching for me like a flower waiting for a honeybee.
My nostrils flare as her scent fills the air, driving me to goddamned madness.
And I breathe deeper, trembling to the bone a little more with every breath.
My fingers stroke her tight cunt while my tongue winds around hers, drinking her greedily.
Yeah, fuck, I want to take her like the last few weeks never happened.
I need her to know we’re picking up right where we left off.
When she crumples against me with a fluttering moan, I lift my hand up and suck my fingers, making sure our eyes stay locked.
“This. This is all I thought about when those fuckers were pounding me to a bloody mess.” The confession spills out of me. Delia’s eyes go wide, concern and sadness swirling with her lust. “Your taste, your body, your heart, your everything, baby. You kept me sane. You kept me alive.”
“Chris...” Her red lips quiver.
So does mine for a different reason.
Hearing my name on her lips with that need boiling up her throat is dangerous.
It’s everything I’ve waited months to hear, and all I need to send her over the edge, gliding with me.
Growling, I spread her legs, plying my hips between them, grinding the hard-on from hell against her clit.
Pleasure oozes out of her hot red lips as I shove her against the wall, the shower already an afterthought.
She knows how we are and how we’ll always be.
We’ll clean up after we’re finished, and then we’ll get dirty all over again.
With a shaking whimper, she tears at my clothes, grabbing my shirt and digging her nails in the fabric.
“Patience,” I tease, nipping her bottom lip with my teeth.
She gives me a look that’s too serious.
I almost laugh as I help her, moving her hands over my body and kicking my clothes to the floor. I’m still a walking pile of fading bruises and scars from the surgeries, but I don’t give a damn, and neither does she.
She’s so ready for me to show her exactly how I aim to heal us with every breathless minute tonight.
“Oh, God.” She gently fingers the fresh scars next to my trident tattoo. They’re fresh chaos, breaking across the dragon’s scales in jagged lines. “They must’ve hurt you bad.”
I shrug. “They’re fading, babe. Hardly permanent. The doctor thought they’ll barely be visible in a few more months. I’d say I got off pretty lightly, minus the broken ribs.”
I try not to remember the agony of that rotten fuck’s designer boots coming down on my chest.
The scars on my face were worse, torn stripes that bled for days. Thankfully, they’re healing even faster, and I no longer need to worry about my woman kissing a red-faced mutant man.
For a second, she hangs her head before she looks back at me, stunned and hurt and more than a little scared.
“I’m so sorry, Chris. I just wish—”
“Enough. You know we’re not here to revisit my torture for the umpteenth time,” I whisper, pushing a finger over her lips.
Not the reaction I want.
Grabbing her hands, I fold them around my back, dragging my hard cock against her folds again, teasing away her sadness with slow, raking thrusts.
I scrape my stubble over her throat before my lips find her skin again.
It doesn’t take long.
I’ll always fucking adore how responsive she is, how our chemistry screams made for each other.
Delia melts into me, moaning and sliding her hands down to my ass.
“That’s it, princess. Right the hell there,” I whisper.
Only trouble is I’m afraid I’ll plow us right through the wall if I take her right here.
With a gentle pull, I lead her into the shower, then twist the knob for the rainfall showerhead, smiling as hot, steamy water sprays down on us.
She stands there for a moment like she’s awestruck, curious and throbbing and questioning if I’m real.
Her nipples are in full bloom, pink nubs screaming to be sucked.
Shit, I can’t hold back.
So I push her against the wall with a groan heaving up my throat and take one tit like a starving man before I turn her around.
Delia arches her back, grinding her ass against my dick when I ratchet up the tension, whimpering louder than usual.
It’s so close to the sound, but not quite.
Let me fix that.
My free hand wraps around her leg and dives up, searching for her clit. When I find it, I draw circles on her sweetness, squeezing her other nipple, shoving my lips down to her round ear.
“Is it really you?” she moans, just as my thumb darts across her bud.
“I’m still the same man, Delia. The only man you’ll be fucking for the rest of your life. They couldn’t break me. They couldn’t take me away from you. They couldn’t ruin what I’ll always feel. Need you more than ever, woman. Every delicious bit of you wrapped around me.”
And I’ll have it, too.
I spread her legs and push into her, grinding my pubic bone against her ass.
She cries out as my cock fills her, sinking in to the hilt, the perfect opportunity to grab her wet, dark hair and tangle it in my fist.
While I was laid up in the hospital, I told myself we’d have a nice, slow, heartfelt reunion fuck when the time finally came.
Now that I’m actually here, I can’t dream of anything else than the desperate slashing rhythm of our bodies, this need to find our release together.
We go good and hard.
The shower’s warmth only fuels our frenzy, making our skin that much more sensitive.
I rear back, crashing into her harder, more crazed every time.
Two minutes in, I’m part wolf, driving in so hard I could bruise her.
But I want to light this girl on fire.
I want to burn us both the fuck down and kiss her back to life like the fairy-tale creature she is.
