The Darkest Part (Living Heartwood #1)(77)

“I want to look into your eyes,” I growl as I pull out of her. Spinning her around, I lift her by the waist and carry her to the bed.

As I fall with her to the mattress, her legs wrap around me, and it’s like we’ve been cast together. We fit together too f*cking perfect. Finding her center easily, I brace my elbows on the bed and grasp her face so I can stare into her eyes as she comes . . . so she can release me.

As I thrust into her, she arches her back, her nipples grazing my chest, and her throaty moan is so sexy. Straight up missionary has one advantage. I bear down, sliding my pelvis against her clit, and she writhes beneath me . . . f*ck.

Again, I rest my hand over her mouth so she can cry out without the worry of being heard, and she does. She bites the f*ck out me, and I pump into her harder as she demands more. “Sam . . . Fuck . . . that’s it. Come for me.” She tightens around me, and I force my eyes to hold hers as she breaks over the edge. Then I bite down on her shoulder as I’m pulled deeper into her as she peaks. And I fall apart.

With a final thrust, I come undone. A guttural noise is wrenched from the back of my throat as I release deep into her, my body trembling. And then I drop against her. My breaths labored and my chest heaving with hers.

I hear the vibration of her sweet laugh, and then, “Holy f*cking hell.”

Lifting up, I look down at her, taking in the glow of her cheeks, the shine of her skin, her eyes bright and jewel-like. I f*cking love this girl. “I promise, it will only get better.”

I kiss her.





Sam

I wake with a hunger. Not the kind that craves food. Holden’s arm is draped over my bare hip, his chest pressed to my back. I can feel his shallow breaths as they stir my hair.

Rolling over to face him, I place my hand on his pec, splaying my fingers over his tattoo. It’s gorgeous. An exact replica of our tree. And I can’t believe how perfectly he captured it. My heart pangs.

My finger traces the scarred skin beneath the ink. I wanted to ask him how so badly . . . but I already know. Well, at least some of the answer. His father. He must have done something awful to Holden to make a scar like this, and I promised him I would never bring it up again. Wouldn’t ask. Not until he’s ready to talk about it.

He’s covered the pain with more pain. I imagine him getting this tattoo, thinking of us. Of our one, short, unfulfilled moment. And my chest is so heavy it aches. I gasp in a breath. I can only try to make it something beautiful, like he said. From now on.

His eyes blink open and, before he has a chance to say anything, I’m moving on top of him. He rolls so that I’m lying chest to chest against him. “Damn, girl. More? Already?”

I nod. “You made a promise. I’m seeing that you keep it.” Then I let my hair fall to his chest as I press a tender kiss to a branch covering the tip of his scar. He releases a shuddering breath, and I kiss him again, working my way along his rib cage.

As I scoot down, I find him already hard and ready. And I don’t deny him. I ease back and feel him sink into me.

“Fuck, Sam . . .” he whispers huskily.

I look up with a wide smile stretching my lips. “That’s what I intend to do, Holden.”

A deep laugh escapes his mouth. And I love the sound. I love that it feels like we’ve been like this forever. We fit together seamlessly. Without effort. I don’t have to hold back, ever.

I loved being with Tyler . . . but it wasn’t like this. Carnal. Raw. Demanding. I never knew I wanted or craved this until tonight. Like my body has just been waiting for it. Waiting for me to get a clue.

And I know, without a doubt—understanding for the first time—it’s possible to love more than one person. Just in different ways. I’ve been saying just that—but didn’t really believe it. Not until now. Holden completes me on a deep and honest level, to the core, where Tyler couldn’t reach.

It’s bittersweet. That I finally found it, and it was with Holden all along, but painful that I still love Tyler so much. No one will ever replace his spot in my heart.

I could be angry about the past . . . about how Tyler handled things. About how Holden handled them. But there’s no use. Nothing will come from it. I just want to revel in this moment. And I always have my sessions to unleash if I have to later.

Letting my thoughts drift away, I raise up and begin to move on top of Holden, rocking my hips, taking him in deeper. His hands go to my thighs, gripping and guiding, as I let my head fall back. Lost in him.

I should be exhausted, completely and utterly, unable to speed my rhythm, deepen our love making. But within seconds, we’re meeting each other with heavy, powerful thrusts that nearly make me climb over the edge.

Holden sits forward and wraps an arm around my waist. “No, you don’t. Not yet . . .” And then I’m brave, stopping his advance as I lift off him.

“Trust me,” I say, and he smiles, slow and sexy. My heart flutters.

Turning myself to ride him backward, I brace my knees on the bed and lower myself over him. He releases a hiss, and then his hands are on my shoulders, pushing me down hard on him.

One of his hands cups my breast, the slat between his fingers pinching my nipple, and he applies just enough pressure to make me feel it deep in my core. Pulsing. It travels into my stomach, my back. Through my whole body. That ache and charge, a flowing current.

My hips work harder, rocking and slamming against him as he thrusts to meet me each time. His fingers dig into my skin as he tightens his hold on my shoulder, his forearm anchored across my chest. His other hand moves between my breasts, giving each one attention, or maybe in an attempt to try and feel every part of me at once.