The Paper Swan(71)
He laced his fingers through mine and we listened to the song of the waves. “Why does it feel like we are the only two people in the world right now?”
“Because right now, we are.” I slipped my arms inside his jacket and around his back.
“Do you know what I remember?” he asked. “I remember thinking that MaMaLu’s lullaby was about a beautiful little piece of sky, something that dispelled all the darkness. Then we came to Casa Paloma, and I felt like it was about you. Cielito lindo.”
“And I always thought she was singing about you. I imagined mountains, dark and black, just like your eyes.” I kissed Damian’s eyes and his eyelashes, his straight brows, the row of scars from his stitches.
“I’m going with you tomorrow,” I said, sliding the jacket off his shoulders.
“I know.” He flung it aside.
MaMaLu bound us together. The fact that Damian was willing to share her with me, in death as he had when she was alive, made me love him all the more.
“No wind today.” I unbuttoned his shirt and trailed my hand down his hard, smooth belly, to the trail of male hair that disappeared under his pants. “No sand.” I ran my tongue over it.
“Let me see.” He rolled me over and returned the favor, his lips taking full advantage of my exposed back. “Mmmm. You’re right. Not a grain. Just smooth, silky skin.”
I squirmed as his fingers slid under my dress, raising it higher, until it was wrapped around my waist.
“God. This ass.” He pulled my panties down and kneaded the flesh. “No sand here either,” he mumbled, leaving teeth marks on my skin.
I kept my shoes on. And the necklace of seashells. Damian let me ride him. I think he liked the sight of me like that, in the moonlight. He kept his hands on my hips, trying to control the rhythm, and I kept slapping them away. We went back and forth for a while until the games dissolved, until passion overtook and we began moving as one.
The roughened pad of Damian’s thumb found my clit and he flicked it, on, off, on, off, like a switch that allowed me sharp, spiky peaks of pleasure, and then took it away. Each time I moaned, his mouth fell open, as if we were connected by some invisible thread. Damian was focused on my face, my body, like he was recording every moment, every movement. His strokes pushed me closer and closer to the edge. I rocked against the hard length of him, driving him just as crazy, reaching, reaching, reaching, until we exploded in spirals of liquid fire. I collapsed over him, heated and flushed, my heart hammering in my chest as he wrapped his arms around me.
We were both quiet in the aftermath, at a loss because it was at once beautiful and scary—beautiful because when we were together, we were whole and complete, and scary because we knew there was no turning back. We were too far gone to take any of it back.
I put away the pile of clothes that lay scattered in the bedroom and slipped into one of Damian’s shirts. I had to fold back the sleeves, but it was soft and warm, and fell just short of my knees. Twenty-one days ago, I’d abhorred putting on his t-shirt, yet here I was, burying my nose in the fabric because I couldn’t get enough of his smell.
I walked into the living room and found Damian sitting on the couch, with his gun dismantled on the coffee table.
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning my gun.”
I watched silently as he reassembled it. The familiarity with which he held it, the precision of his movements, reminded me of the path down which he’d come. He was getting ready for tomorrow, in case we ran into trouble in Paza del Mar, in the cemetery where MaMaLu was buried. I knew Damian would not hesitate to use that gun if anything or anyone threatened to take me away from him.
“Damian, how long are we going to hide?”
He reloaded the gun and looked at me. “You want to go back?”
“You know that’s not what I mean. I could spend my whole life here, with you. I’m just tired of the uncertainty, of not knowing what happens next. I’m scared for you and what would happen if they find us. I think we should talk to someone, someone who can intervene with the authorities and help us figure out a way to resolve the situation.”
“You’re saying we should talk to your father, turn ourselves in? Correction. I should turn myself in so you can intervene on my behalf? Ask him to go easy, because we both know he’d do anything for you?”
“It’s not like that—”
“It’s exactly like that, Skye. I’ve been ready to face the consequences all along, from the time I shoved you into the trunk of your car. I knew what I was getting into, but I had nothing to lose. Now I do. I have you, and I won’t let anyone take that away. As long as that’s what you want. But if you think you can have both me and your father in your life, you’re wrong. Either you’re with him, or you’re with me.”
Leylah Attar's Books
- Where Shadows Meet
- Destiny Mine (Tormentor Mine #3)
- A Covert Affair (Deadly Ops #5)
- Save the Date
- Part-Time Lover (Part-Time Lover #1)
- My Plain Jane (The Lady Janies #2)
- Getting Schooled (Getting Some #1)
- Midnight Wolf (Shifters Unbound #11)
- Speakeasy (True North #5)
- The Good Luck Sister (Wildstone #1.5)