Among the Echoes (Wrecked and Ruined #2.5)(53)

I’d love nothing more than to feel her too, but not tonight. I reach down, removing her hand. I’ve never rejected her before—and probably won’t ever again—but I can’t do this now.

"Not tonight, beautiful," I say before kissing her forehead.

She blinks at me for a minute then begins nervously chewing on her lip. "Oh. Yeah. Um, it’s been a crazy night. You’ve learned a lot of new things about me and I’m sure you need time to process." She suddenly rolls away from me.

Most nights, we sleep like this, so it takes a few seconds for me to realize that she isn’t just settling in for the night. It’s only when I feel the tiniest of shakes from her back that I realize that she is either crying or desperately fighting it.

"What’s going on, Erica?" I roll her back over.

She doesn’t try to fight me, but she covers her face with her hands. "It’s already different."

"What is?"

"You and me." She sniffs, trying to collect herself. "I hate that you know now. It’s already changing us."

"Yes, it is changing us, and thank Christ for that." Her eyes fly to mine. "For the first time since I met you, we have something real. No more lies or secrets. It’s just us now. And tonight, I don’t want to have sex because I don’t want that real to even be in the same headspace of all that other bullshit you told me earlier." She looks away, and I realize that may not have been the best choice of words. "Look at me, beautiful. Tomorrow, we start over as Slate and Erica. And tomorrow, I’m stripping you naked and having my way with you for the very first time. So I suggest you get some sleep." I wink and her eyes flare.

"Slate, I’ll understand if you need more time. I know this has to change the way you look at me at least a little."

"Oh it really does. Because tomorrow I’m going to be looking up at you from between your legs. Totally different view."

"Jesus, Slate."

"Nothing changes. So get that out of your head. I still want you just as much, if not more than I did before." I grab her ass and grind my hard-on against her just to prove it.

"Now that’s just mean." She throws a leg over my hips and grinds right back against me. I let out a groan and rethink this whole waiting thing, but it’s for the best.

"Go to sleep, Erica."

"Slate," she whispers just as I close my eyes.

"Sleep."

"Thank you."

I don’t respond. I don't need to.





"Erica," Slate whispers into my neck.

For the brief second before I open my eyes, I imagine that I’m back in my small apartment before that horrible night. Perhaps I’m tired from a long shift at the hospital instead of last night’s emotional upheaval. But the one thing I take with me from reality into this fantasy world is Slate.

"Wake up, beautiful."

I feel the covers slide down my chest and his warm mouth latch onto my breast. Without opening my eyes, I play with his hair as his tongue circles my nipple.

"Mmm," I moan, arching my back off the bed.

Never pulling away from my breast, he shifts his body to lie between my legs. There is a sheet dividing us, but it does nothing to stop his hard cock from sliding against my clit. I lift my hips as he rolls his, making for the most amazing spark only Slate can bring me.

He drags his mouth up my chest and neck, pausing at my ear. "It’s a new day, Erica."

It’s a short sentiment. Nothing extreme. However one word rouses me into consciousness—Erica.

I open my eyes to see the golden eyes and crooked smile that I would recognize anywhere. His hair is disheveled and a thin layer of scruff covers his jaw. Yet, Slate has never looked sexier in his life. It’s a new day, and even after all of the filth I divulged last night, he’s still at my side.

"You ready?" he asks, enabling me to tell him yet another truth.

"Yes," I answer, and morning breath be damned, his mouth slams over mine.

He immediately uses one hand to push himself up to hover above me and the other to drag the sheet from between us. The morning sun is bright as he settles back on top of me, but this is Slate. For the first time ever, I don’t care what he sees. I’m finally ready to bare it all.

He slides a hand down my body and ever-so-slowly drags it between my legs. Just before he rounds the final curve, he pauses to catch my gaze. I don’t want to think about the scars or be nervous with Slate, but I feel it anyway. I clench my eyes closed and nod for him to continue. Only his hand never moves another inch.

"Erica, I love you. I never knew you before you had these scars, but that doesn’t mean I won’t spend my entire life trying to erase them from the inside out." My heart swells and my voice catches in my throat. "You see my nose, beautiful? Well, it’s been broken three times. I swear, a few years ago, it was perfectly straight. I was a sexy bastard back then," he teases before becoming serious again. "Everyone has scars, Erica. Don’t for a second think yours are any different based on how you got them. I love you—scars and all."

The hand that was only seconds ago trailing down my body shifts direction and slides back up and into my hair. As his mouth seals over mine, Slate Adam Andrews tells me a truth of his own without even uttering another word.