Hold Me Close(44)

“I want to make sure you get to bed all right.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Effie told him. She took a mouthful of water and spit it out, eyes closed, hands flat on the shower’s tile wall. She didn’t need to see him to know he’d stayed within arm’s reach. She could feel him with every part of her. “Just tired.”

He left her alone. She’d have stayed under that hot water forever, if she could. Somehow there could never be enough of it for her. Too many years fighting to bathe in cold water from a jug, running water a luxury, hot running water a reward for unspeakable acts she’d never had to perform. There were days she showered three or four times, simply because she could. Tonight, though, knowing the clock was ticking toward morning and she would have to be up and awake to get Polly off to school, Effie couldn’t allow herself to indulge in anything longer than the time it took to scrub herself clean of the paint.

The bedroom was dark, but she didn’t need light to navigate. She’d towel dried her hair but left it hanging over her shoulders and down her back, and the tickle of it between her shoulder blades became an itch that spread throughout her entire body. Naked, Effie took several careful steps, sliding her feet as had become her habit so long ago so she didn’t step on something sharp. Heath was a shadow, but just as she had in the shower, she didn’t need to see him to know where he stood.

She kissed him.

She ran her hands up the front of his shirt to link her fingers behind his neck, not caring if she stained his shirt or his skin with the leftover paint. His mouth opened, as she’d expected, but his hands went to her hips and pushed her gently back, which she did not. Frowning, Effie moved to kiss him again.

Heath turned his face just enough that her kiss skidded past his lips. They stayed that way for a moment or so, until Effie reached between them to cup his crotch. He was already hard, his cock hot and pressing the denim. He sighed when she did that. He shivered. But he didn’t kiss her.

“No?” Effie whispered, moving closer to say it directly into his ear. She let her tongue drift out to flick at his sensitive earlobe. Then the flesh of his neck. She nipped, then bit, as her hand between his legs squeezed gently. Then a little harder. At his noise of protest, she eased off but kept her mouth close to his ear. “Kiss me. I want you.”

With that, Heath groaned and pulled her close. His lips found hers. Then his tongue. His hands slid from her hips to cup her ass and grind her against him.

Oh, it was always a mistake to think she was in control when she was with him. He pushed her back toward the bed, and they fell onto it together in a protest of creaking headboard and mattress springs. They rolled until Effie was on top, her knees pressing his sides in the sweet, hot places where his shirt had ridden up, and she loved that, f*cking loved it, skin on skin. She needed more. Her hands slid up his arms to pin his wrists at the sides of his head, and she bent to let her breasts tease his mouth. At the touch of his lips on her nipple, she ground against him harder, harder, not caring if she hurt him. Trying, in fact, to make it hurt.

Heath groaned and muttered her name.

“Yes,” Effie said. “It’s me. It’s always me, always, always and forever.”

She wanted to move up and over his face, to press her cunt over his mouth and nose until he couldn’t breathe. She wanted him to drown in her. She took his mouth again instead, kissing cruelly until he growled and rolled them both again so she was beneath him and her wrists were pinned as his had been.


She could’ve gone soft, compliant, submissive, but that wasn’t what Heath wanted from her. She fought him, bucking her hips. Her naked flesh scraped against denim. She snapped her teeth at him, scant inches from his skin, and he pulled away only far enough to keep her from biting him. His fingers bit into her wrists harder, harder until she cried out.

Then he let go of one of her hands to cover her mouth with the other.

Ah, f*ck, yes, it was wrong to love this, but she did, she did, she could not stop herself from loving it. Or him. Effie bit at Heath’s palm but couldn’t get more than a taste of him. Her bite became a kiss, helpless and longing, and he pressed his fingers tight into her cheek as he let go of her other hand so he could unzip and unbutton.

With her hands free, she could fight him, and she did, but he was bigger and stronger, and did she really want to get away from him? Of course not. When she slapped at his chest and dug into him with her nails, it only urged him on. Later, she could feel guilty for this love that was nothing like the books and movies told her how it should be, but not now. Never in the moment, when his body on hers became her everything.

Effie cried out against his hand when Heath f*cked into her—she was turned on but still a little dry, and he scraped. As he pulled out, Heath nudged her knees apart, sliding a hand beneath one to lift her hips. Opening her. His mouth crushed onto hers, taking the place of his hand. His next thrust took him even deeper, and it was easier this time because now she was getting slick, wet and hot and slippery for him. This time when she made a noise, he sank his fingers into the hair at the base of her skull and yanked her head back.

Fuck, that hurt. Pulling her hair, the awkward arch of her back, the way his cock rubbed her inside. It hurt and made her crazy at the same time. When Heath pressed his face to the side of hers and took her earlobe in his teeth, Effie shuddered.

“Quiet,” Heath said in a low rasp. “You don’t want anyone to hear.”