Erasing Faith(58)

I’ll never let this go, I thought. I’ll never let him go.

But I didn’t say it.

He was a wild creature — untamed, unloved. Not meant for a cage.

I’d never keep him. I’d never bind him to me.

I knew that all too well.

But maybe, I thought as he thrust into me one last time and triggered an explosion of ecstasy that shook me to my core, Maybe he’ll let me run wild by his side.





Chapter Twenty-Nine: WESTON


A CONTRADICTION



I’d f*cked women.

Banged them.

Screwed them.

Nailed them.

I’d never made love to one, though. Not till Faith.

I didn’t deserve her, certainly hadn’t earned her. But I’d damn well try to be what she needed. Faith Morrissey deserved everything I could give and far, far more.

She was a girl composed entirely of truths. The fabric of her essence was weaved with threads of honesty and candor.

I was a man comprised completely of lies. My blackened soul was built of falsehoods and fabrications.

Together, we were a contradiction. It shouldn’t have worked. But somehow, all our opposites balanced — two halves of the same whole.

My sharp angles were mellowed against her soft curves. My disappointment in the world was curbed by her enthusiasm for it. My darkness was eased by her light.

I held her above me as we moved together and watched her slowly unravel.

Head thrown back, eyes half closed, lush lips parted.

Her hair fell around her face like a curtain and I pushed it behind her shoulders, needing to see her. Absorbing her in fragments and flashes.

White skin glowing like silk in the moonlight.

Smooth limbs tangled with mine.

Heartbeat pulsing heavily in the hollow of her throat.

She was so f*cking beautiful it made my entire body ache like I’d taken a heavy beating. Looking at her hurt like a physical blow — one I’d accept happily. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

The need to possess her, to claim her rough and hard, like I’d wanted to since I first laid eyes on her, was so strong it nearly killed me. My body was screaming for release, wanting nothing more than to drive into her with so much force she’d never forget this moment, as long as she lived. But I held off, because the sweetness of this — strange and unfamiliar as it was — was also the best thing I’d ever felt. She wasn’t a cheap, meaningless f*ck or a quick, dirty screw.

She was Faith.

So, for the first time, I allowed myself to be tender. I touched her gently, coaxed the pleasure from her body with lazy, languorous strokes.

And, in turn, she made things I’d only ever dreamed of come alive — even as she killed me. With every muscle she moved, every touch of her hands, every brush of her body against mine, I felt myself sink further into her depths.

I drowned under the graze of her fingertips. The clench of her hips. The press of her lips.

And as she came undone around me, crying out my name and collapsing against my chest, I saw the love there in her eyes and I knew I’d never, ever be the same.

I am in love with this girl.





Chapter Thirty: FAITH


ALWAYS



We fell asleep, limbs tangled like vines. My head resting on his chest, I listened to the hollow thumping of his heartbeat and let it dull the edges of my wakeful mind, as a child does a bedtime story. I hovered on the border of consciousness, barely able to keep my eyelids from slipping closed, and I felt Wes’ lips skim my forehead so lightly, I couldn’t be sure if it was real or simply part of a dream. I thought I heard him whisper something against my hair, but I was too far gone to hear whatever it was.

In the arms of the man I loved against all reason, I slipped into the most content sleep I’d ever had.

***

The sheets were cold when I woke.

I reached out for Wes, but my hand encountered nothing but blankets and air as it slid across the bed. He wasn’t here — and hadn’t been for a while, if the lack of body-heat warming my bed was any indication. My eyes flew open and I sat straight up, clutching the sheet to my bare chest like a shield even as my gaze swept the room.

He hadn’t gone far.

He was sitting at the end of my bed with his back to me and his head bowed in what appeared to be deep contemplation. One hand pinched the bridge of his nose and I could see, even from this angle, that his eyes were pressed firmly closed. His expression was pained. I couldn’t help but notice that he’d gotten dressed at some point between falling asleep naked with me last night and right now.

“Wes?” Though I spoke in the softest whisper, he flinched at the sound of my voice.

His head turned fractionally and he glanced over his shoulder at me, his hand dropping into his lap like dead weight.

“Good, you’re awake. I wanted to wait to say goodbye, but I couldn’t wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

There was a careful distance in his tone that set me instantly on edge. He was being friendly.

But we weren’t just friends. Never had been.

I swallowed hard and tried not to overreact prematurely. “You’re leaving?”

He turned fully to face me but couldn’t quite meet my eyes. “I have work.”

It was Saturday.

I felt myself begin to vibrate with anger as I watched him rise to his feet and grab his leather jacket from the end of the bed. He edged around the side of the mattress, kissed my forehead, and whispered something about having a good day in my ear. I don’t know what his exact words were — all of my cognitive processes were tied up as I tried to convince myself that it was a bad idea to walk into the kitchen, grab a large blade, and slice off his man-parts.