Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire, #1)(32)

His hands explored my body as he pushed away my clothing. He only shifted everything enough to grant him access to the places he wanted to kiss and explore. His touch was clumsy and rough but brought to mind Clay’s tender caresses. Resting his body heavily between my legs, he moved his lips to mine again. The warmth of his mostly naked body pressed against my exposed thighs.

“I want you,” he slurred into my mouth before kissing me again.

His body was right there, pressed firmly against mine, and my heart raced.

He pulled himself away from me, just far enough to roll a condom down his length. He must’ve planned his seduction ahead of time. At least enough to be prepared for the possibilty. Should I have been flattered that he’d considered me that way or insulted by the assumption. As the alcohol swam in my mind, I didn’t care either way.

Is this really about to happen? Do I really want this?

I couldn’t wait for Clay forever.

Without any extra lead-up or warning, Brian pushed himself inside of me. Despite what I’d imagined it might be like to share the same experience with Clay, Brian entering me was more pain than pleasure. I groaned and shifted my body in response, trying to find a better position. On TV it always looked much more pleasurable than the uncomfortable tangle of limbs we’d become.

For his part, Brian seemed to be enjoying our union and must have interpreted my noises as desire. He moved faster over me as his tongue and lips pressed against me in sloppy kisses. His hands openly explored my body as he thrust deeper and deeper.

Eventually, the pain faded to become a slight discomfort.

Just as it became almost enjoyable, Brian collapsed over me in a panting mess. He closed his eyes and turned his face toward me.

“Thank you.” He kissed my cheek before extracting himself from my embrace to clean up. He frowned as he stood and went to pull the condom off. “Holy shit, there’s something wrong with it . . . it’s . . . it’s warped or something.”

I wasn’t sure what to say or what to do. “How? Why would that happen?” I asked, even as my stomach twisted. Was it my heat that had caused it?

“I don’t know, goddamn it,” he muttered. “It’s never happened before. It’s like it melted.”

His words were like a punch to my gut. It was my fault. I couldn’t even do something as normal as have sex or use a condom without my nature screwing things up.

“Are you on the pill or something?” Brian snapped, pulling me from my self-pity.

I shook my head.

“Shit.”

I could almost see his thoughts running through his head, and moved to reassure him about one thing. “I can’t have kids though.”

Brian blew out a breath of relief and laughed.

The sound of his laughter chilled me, and I sat up to draw my knees against my chest.

“Sorry I freaked out,” he said. “I’ve just never been with anyone else besides Mary.” His sorrow over losing her rang in his voice. He reached for a second bottle of vodka and twisted off the lid before raising the drink to his lips.

I flushed red. “I’ve never been with anyone,” I admitted in a quiet whisper as I stood to fix my clothing back into place. Being even slightly exposed to Brian now that the moment had passed was a little off-putting.

“Never? With anyone?” he repeated. “Shit, Evie, you should have said something.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t . . . Maybe that wouldn’t have happened if you’d said.”

Pulling on my own clothes while we spoke, I thought about the whole experience. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, at least it hadn’t been in the end, but it wasn’t exactly the earth-moving, mind-shattering encounter I’d dreamed of sharing with Clay either. Maybe it just takes practice?

I sighed. “Maybe I wanted it to happen. Maybe I’m sick of living the way everyone else thinks I should. Maybe I don’t want to wait for the perfect moment anymore. Maybe now is all we get, and we just have to seize the moment before it’s gone. Before everything we care about is gone!” By the end of my rant, tears pricked my eyes, and the ringing tones of hysteria sounded through my voice. I was no longer talking about Brian and me. My mind wasn’t spinning any longer; instead, it was sort of beginning to pound and the pleasant fuzziness that had inhabited my limbs was burning away to a cold chill.

In response to my harsh words, he stepped closer to me and curled his hand around my bicep. “Just as long as you’re certain.”

“I needed to feel something again. I didn’t even realize how numb I’d become.”

“Can I ask you something?” There was a strange tone in his voice. “Are you getting sick or something?”

“No,” I said as unease over the source of the question twisted my stomach into a knot.

“I just thought you might be running a fever.”

I shook my head. “It’s not a fever it’s . . . something else.” The words got stuck on my tongue as I tried to figure out a way to avoid the conversation.

“Has it got something to do with why you can’t have kids?”

I blanched away from him—he’d hit so close to the mark.

He held up his hand. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, I understand. I just thought . . . I thought we trusted each other.”