Then he was pushing inside her, a rush of breath escaping his mouth. He stilled himself for a moment, as though he was already reaching the edge. She wasn’t far behind, the pleasure already pooling in her stomach, and she inclined her hips, encouraging him to move, needing to feel him grinding against her.
‘Still killing me,’ he whispered, his lips grazing against hers. ‘But it’s a damn good way to die.’
‘Are you okay?’ Pulling out of her, he cupped her face with his hands, his body heavy on hers as they both tried to catch their breath. Her arms were laid by her side – he’d unfastened the belts almost as soon as he’d pushed inside her, begging her to touch him, to hold him, to run her finger through his hair.
‘I’m more than okay,’ she whispered, her voice thin from a lack of breath.
He grinned, leaning back on his elbow, running his fingers down her arm. ‘You look so beautiful.’
That was another thing about him, he knew how to say all the right things. But more than that, the way he looked at her only underscored his words, making her feel as though she was the most important person in his life. An illusion, of course, but a pleasurable one anyway.
‘You don’t look bad yourself,’ she said.
‘You want anything? Water? A shower?’
‘Maybe in a while,’ she said, her body leaden from all their exertion. ‘I just want to lie here for a bit.’
He put his arm around her, pulling her close until she was nestled into his side. Her legs were curled beneath her, her head resting on his shoulder. He stroked the hair from her face, kissing her exposed skin. She could feel his lips trace the line from her brow to her ear – the same line her scar intersected.
‘It’s still my night, isn’t it?’ he whispered.
‘You want to go again already?’
He laughed. ‘No, but you have to do whatever I say, right?’
Her eyes flickered to his. ‘Yeah…’ Her tone was suspicious. She didn’t think he was suddenly going to get a flogger out, but still, the way he asked put her on edge.
‘Tell me about the scar,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me why you got so upset at the gallery.’
Immediately she felt her stomach contract. ‘That’s not fair.’
‘You didn’t put any caveats on it,’ he pointed out. ‘I’m still in charge. And I want you to tell me about this.’
She frowned, trying to read his expression. ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Because I want to know you.’
His words were enough to send her heart racing. ‘Maybe you don’t want to know this part.’
‘It doesn’t work like that,’ he said softly. He ran his fingers through her hair, his thumb trailing along her neck.
She closed her eyes, a scene playing behind them. The rain pouring down, the screech of tyres on an already slick road. A sickening crunch as reality shrank to the size of a pinhead, the darkness eating it up. She started to shake with the memory, and he pulled her closer, murmuring softly in her hair.
‘How old were you when you got this?’ he asked, brushing his lips against her brow.
‘I was fifteen.’
‘That’s young.’
‘I didn’t think so at the time. I thought the world revolved around me. It was all so black and white back then.’ She’d always segmented her life into two – before the accident and after. ‘Everything changed, everything, and it was all my fault.’
‘How was it your fault?’ Lachlan frowned. ‘You weren’t driving, were you?’
She shook her head, feeling the familiar ache forming in her chest. ‘No, but it was my fault anyway.’
‘Of course it wasn’t, how could it be? Your mom was driving, right?’
‘Yeah.’ Her voice was low.