Between Here and the Horizon(82)

Sully pushed his hips up underneath me, grinding his pelvis against me, and I could feel his cock again, hard and insistent, rubbing up against my * through my jeans. “Goddamn it, Lang. Why the hell can’t I keep my hands off you? I can’t get enough. You’re more addictive than any drug. I crave you twenty-four seven.”

“Shit, Sully. Ahh!” I bucked against him when he bit me again, squeezing my nipple hard between his teeth. The sensation was electricity and fire all rolled into one. I couldn’t take it, couldn’t bear it another second longer, and yet the pain and pleasure swirling through me was all I wanted at the same time. I couldn’t have told him to stop, even if I’d wanted to.

Sully’s hands worked quickly, ripping my shirt off over my head. My bra went next, and then I was half naked and shivering, my skin exploding into goose bumps. Sully growled low in the back of his throat as he studied me for a second. “Fuck, Lang. Look at you. You’re perfect. You’re the most beautiful girl on this island.”

“I’m one of the only women under the age of thirty-five on this island. That’s not a very grand compliment, Sully Fletcher.”

He laughed. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, then. How about that?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” My cheeks were warming, though, pride washing over me. Sully stopped smiling and propped himself up on one elbow, head angled back so he was looking up at me. His dark hair was brushed back out of his face, at least three or four days’ worth of stubble marking his jaw, eyes dark and simmering with intensity. He told me so easily that he thought I was beautiful. Why was it so hard for me to tell him he was easily the hottest guy I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting, then? “I mean it, Lang,” he whispered. Skimming his fingertips over the ends of my hair, brushing them lightly over the bare skin of my chest, he breathed out slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. He looked like he was staring straight inside me, as if he could see through the flesh and bone, straight into my soul. His words echoed that thought when he spoke again. “You’re wildfire. You’re stubborn, and you don’t take any shit. You’re strong. You won’t be talked down to. You’re a woman, and you’re a warrior all at once. You’re brave, and you’re kind. And I’ve learned recently that being kind really does take courage sometimes.” He paused, eyes narrowing as he watched me. “Fuck. I’ve been living in my lighthouse, casting a narrow beam out to sea for a long time, Lang. And then you swept into my life and lit up the dark. That’s pretty f*cking scary for me. I’m not used to the way you make me feel. I feel like I’m constantly on the back foot with you, one step behind the game.”

My heart was in my throat. He was always so closed off, the first to crack a joke or a sharp-edged comeback to avoid being serious, but right now he couldn’t have been any more serious. There was a calm resting over him that I’d never experienced before, and it made me want to fold myself into him, to wrap my arms around him and just lie there, our heartbeats syncing and beating together. Who was this man? He was so different to the cautious, aggressive, cold guy who’d nearly scared me half to death at the bottom of the stairs all those weeks ago. Here was a man who could love, who had so much love to give if only he just let himself.

“You promised me,” I whispered.

“Promised you what?”

“That you wouldn’t let me fall.”

Sully blinked, remaining absolutely still. “You knew all too well that was going to happen the moment you started showing up on my doorstep with food in your hands, Lang. It was nice to pretend we were gonna be able to prevent it, but we both knew…”

“I thought you didn’t like people who lied to themselves,” I said, giving him a small smile.

“I’m not perfect. I break rules.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Sully smirked, taking my hand in his, placing it over his heart. “Let’s not hide anymore. Let’s just be honest. It’s time.”

“God, Sully, I just…the situation, it’s…”

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Remember? No bullshit. Tell me. Say it.”

“Say what?” It was too late for games now, though. We’d already come too far.

“Ophelia.” He said my name softly, carefully, so that it carried weight. He said it like it mattered. It was a reprimand, and it was a caress. It was the first time he’d ever called me by my first name, and the way he shaped the word flooded my body with a warm vibration, a deep undercurrent, like a tuning fork that had been struck and would hum on and on forever unless someone closed their hand around it.

“I love you, Sully. I tried not to. I tried really hard. God knows I tried.” I wanted to bury my face into his shirt, but he placed his fingers under my chin and lifted my face so that I couldn’t.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.

I opened them, but it was so hard to look at him. Impossible, almost. He sighed heavily. “Don’t you think,” he said softly, “that I feel what you feel? I told you as much in that letter. Don’t you think the bravado and the machismo are simply signs that I’m running scared? Because I am, y’know. I have been since the very first moment I saw you. I love you, too, Ophelia. God, loving you is the cruelest, most unkind thing I can do to you, and yet I’m going to do it anyway. Do you know what that means?”