Three Wishes(29)

They walked deeper into the park.

He didn’t want to talk about it, she knew. But she needed to talk about it.

He was, quite simply, hers. She’d wished for him. He didn’t know it, even she didn’t really know it at that moment, she would only really know it later but he was the love of her life.

For these reasons she carried on.

“What happened to your folks?” she enquired, her voice soft.

This time, his hand tightened reflexively and she didn’t know what to make of it except that it couldn’t mean anything good.

He stopped walking.

She did as well, turned to him and tilted her head up to look into his eyes.

“Lily,” he said quietly and looked down at her. She liked the way he said her name, it sounded good on his lips. His eyes, so dark (she didn’t know how, if they were grey or if they were blue), were intense. Nate kept talking. “I never knew my father. My mother was murdered.”

Her eyes rounded in shock and her hand shot to her mouth, her fingers pressing against her lips. He said it tersely as if it was torn from him as if he’d never said those words to anyone in his life.

“Nate,” she breathed against her fingers, she injected so much feeling in his name that she was surprised it didn’t come alive and hover in the air.

He carried on, still watching her, assessing her reaction.

“I knew Victor. He took me in and he and Laura adopted me. End of story.”

And that it was for he turned and headed back the way they came. The walk was over.

“Why didn’t you take their name?” Something made her whisper, it was none of her business and everything about him said so.

“I never want to forget who I am,” he replied, though his answer made little sense to her.

“And who are you?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

And this curiosity took her irrevocably out of the safe, protected, sheltered bubble she’d resided in her whole life.

He stopped, halted her with a tug on her hand and turned to face her. Then his arm slid about her waist and brought her toward him until her body hit the heat of his. Then his head bent, she thought he was going to kiss her again and she held her breath in anticipation.

But instead he said more words to her than he’d ever said before in their short acquaintance.

And they were very, very shocking. And very, very effective.

“I’m the man who’s going to put your lush body on the back of his bike and take you to my flat. Then I’m going to take every piece of that lovely outfit off that lush body. Then I’m going to take you to my bed and I’m going to memorise, slowly, every inch of your skin. Then I’m going to watch you come while I’m inside you. That’s who I am.”

Her mouth had dropped open.

She hadn’t been spoken to like that in her whole entire life. She didn’t even imagine anyone spoke to anyone like that. And she hadn’t been na**d in front of anyone, not another living soul since, well, since she could remember.

“Lily?” Nate called.

If there was a time when she should run, hide, escape, that was it.

But Lily wasn’t even thinking of escape because she was too busy staring at him in dumbfounded awe.

She realised he was waiting for her to answer.

“Yes?” she whispered.

It was then he bent his head to kiss her.

This kiss was not hard and reactionary. This kiss was not feather-light.

This kiss was something else.

His lips settled on hers firmly as his arm tightened about her waist, pulling her deeper into his body. His tongue came out and touched her lips and not really knowing what to do but thinking her best bet was to open her lips (slightly), she did so.

He took advantage, his tongue sweeping in her mouth and at the touch of it, the feel of it, the taste of it, her belly stopped all pretence at somersaults and launched right into several back handsprings and, she was pretty certain, a forward pike.

She moaned (she couldn’t help it, it felt so good and she felt his kiss not just in her belly but everywhere) and her arms went around his shoulders, her fingers sifting into the crisp, soft hair at his nape.

She heard from what seemed a great distance the helmets hitting the ground and his other arm came around her and crushed her to his body. One hand slid down over her bottom.

She moaned again (she couldn’t help it, his hand on her bottom felt so… very… nice and what she felt of him straining against her front was even nicer).

His tongue played with hers, danced with hers, duelled with hers and she matched him, mimicking his actions, going on instinct not able to wrap her mind around a single thought. She pressed her h*ps against his, wriggling them for good measure and to get better purchase because she liked what she felt and she slid her fingers deeper into his hair, holding his head to hers.

It was his turn to groan and she absorbed it in her mouth, realising with knees going weak, how he felt when he absorbed hers.

It was luscious.

He lifted his head or rather ripped his lips from hers in what appeared to be a great effort.

Then he murmured, “Fucking hell, you’re magnificent.”

It might not have been a compliment every girl who’d been addicted to romance novels for a decade desired to hear but it worked really well on Lily.

“We’re going home.” His voice was both determined and urgent.