my fingers slide over the lace of my bra and I feel my nipples harden. He’s watching me in a way that makes me want to keep doing what I’ve started. My hands travel down my body and instead of unbuttoning my jeans, I slide my palms down the front of them. Stopping, I push against the spot at the bottom of my zipper. His lips part and his breath hitches. I bite down harder on my bottom lip and take this to the next level.
Unbuttoning my jeans, I pull them down. Leaning back so my head rests on the sofa arm, I shimmy out of them. I lay there in my underwear and his scrutiny overcomes me. The look on his face is enough for me to see this through.
I push my feet under his thighs and he strokes his hands up my calves. His chest rises and falls rapidly. Every one of my senses comes alive as I watch him watch me through heavily lidded eyes. When my fingers find their way inside the lace of my panties, he rises to his elbows. He surprises me when he says, “Take them off.” His voice is commanding, edged with need.
Sliding the lace down, I pull my feet together and he grabs my panties, throwing them to the floor. I tuck my feet back under his thighs and this time move them a little further up and he groans again. Dangling my hands between my legs my fingers make contact with my slick flesh and I imagine they are his fingers touching me. A small moan escapes my lips and I throw my head back.
Before I do what I’ve never done in front of another person, he unzips his jeans and sits up. Moving swiftly, his lean, hard body is on top of mine, his elbows on either side of my arms. A low deep growl vibrates against my lips. “That’s only for me. I’m the only one who gets to make you moan.”
The press of our bodies together sends me into a state of desperation. My breath comes in short, harsh pants and I reach out to tangle my hands in his already-messy hair. His hips grind into mine and I can feel what I can’t wait to have. His breathing is labored and his heart beats fast with desire. He nips my lower lip and then pulls back to look at me. The flames of the fire are still glowing, making his slight smile light up. Wanting his mouth back on me, I pull his lips to mine. When he jets his tongue in and out of my mouth, I want to drink him in—savor the feel and taste of his mouth on mine to have for always.
“I need you,” he says as he positions himself between my legs.
“I need you, too,” I manage, rubbing myself against him.
Gripping his hips I urge him to take me and he does. He enters me, fills me, and as he slides deeper it is the most wonderful feeling in the world. With it my confusion melts away and we both get lost in the moment. He pulls back, almost withdrawing completely, and I tremble with need all the way to my core. He pushes back inside me and as he moves faster, I clamp my legs around his and grind my hips into him. His eyes close as he maintains the fast rhythm.
I can feel my own pleasure building and I’m craving the release. I close my eyes and rock upward. Our mouths connect hungrily as our pace quickens. My muscles begin to tighten and I know it won’t be long. I am so close.
His tongue circles the shell of my ear. “Say you’re mine,” he breathes. The vibration of his voice and the sound of his words send a shudder through my body and I swear it makes my cheeks and lips quiver.
“I am. You know I am,” I tell him and I roll my hips to mimic his movement.
His breath is warm against my cheek. “Say it.”
“I’m yours, River.”
Within seconds his hands slide down to my hips and he takes complete control. I throw my arms over my head and clutch the sofa trying to block out everything but this, the here and now.
“Dahlia, let go,” his voice shakes as he speaks.
Taking a deep breath I do just that—I finally feel what I have needed to feel since we got home. A muffled sound lodges in my throat and then I call out his name as he pushes me over the edge into pure bliss. “Oh God, River!” I shout as I come hard, waves of pleasure rippling through me.
As if that was the signal he was waiting for, River groans and thrusts deeply one final time before I feel the warmth of him filling me deep inside. He collapses on me and lays his head on my chest, whispering, “I love you. You’re . . .”
His words trail off as he rolls against the back of the couch and tightens his hold on me. After a few minutes, he stands and takes my hand, leading me to our bedroom, where we crawl into bed and find each other immediately. I’m completely wrapped in his body, our arms and legs entangled as tight as they can be, my face buried in his chest. I’m so warm, so comfortable; it’s where I always want to be.
“I love you. So much,” I say one last time because I hope that with those reassuring words everything will be okay. But a small amount of doubt can’t help but weigh on me, and I feel like it’s hanging over us.
As I start to drift off to sleep I keep hearing Ben’s strained voice and seeing his distraught face. Why the hell would he pretend to be dead when he wasn’t? Why would he put us all through the grief and sorrow that irrevocably changed our lives? I know I have to see him to understand what’s going on.
Chapter 4
Like We Used To
Ben’s Journal
I never thought I’d see her again and when I finally did—my heart stopped. Mom wanted me to stay in the kitchen so she could explain everything to her. I tried to wait until she was done, but when Serena called her by name, I couldn’t wait any longer to get my Dahl back.
When I saw her beautiful face bruised and battered, my gut instinct was that that son of a bitch sitting next to her had hit her. It wasn’t until she left and Caleb sat me down, that I knew her injuries were a direct result of my actions. Fuck me—what had I done? How can I ever make this up to her? I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I need her to give me the chance . . . because if she does I’ll spend my whole life making it right. I swear I will.
Seeing her bruised and battered enraged me, but her reaction to seeing me—that just wrecked me. I knew she’d be shocked, even pissed, but fuck, I didn’t expect apathy. She approached me like a zombie and the jackass she brought with her wouldn’t shut the hell up. But then the sign came. The sign that she cared for me.
She touched me. Her hand tenderly brushed my cheek. A simple reminder that we had loved each other our whole lives, that we had known each other since we were five years old, that we were always there for each other. I didn’t need the physical reminder to recall those feelings . . . but maybe she did.
It had been so long since I felt her soft skin against mine. Sure, I’d written to her in the journal, the one I kept just for her when I thought I’d never see her again—I’d written to her about how much I missed her and tried to explain the choice I’d made. But then she was standing in front of me and I couldn’t believe it. I had dreamed of her touch so many times but never thought I’d feel it again. A simple reflex action—to reach out and touch someone—and she did it, almost intuitively. I thought that meant she had missed me, but now I’m not so sure what it meant.
Nothing up to that point had gone as I thought it would. But there she was wearing her Grammy’s pearls, and all of the times she had worn them before flashed in front of my eyes. It was more than I could take. It broke me. I tried to pull her to me, to hold her but she resisted. I saw the look of confusion on her face, that same look I’ve seen before. If I could just hold her, she’d be mine, but that pretty boy stood up and I knew I didn’t have much time. I spewed out what I could, as fast as I could, but it wasn’t enough.
She stared at me and I knew at least she finally saw me. Relieved, I tried to tune out all the chaos surrounding us but she suddenly went apeshit on me. When he tried to take her from me, I pulled her back; I wasn’t done talking to her. How dare he threaten me, she’s my girl.
She collapsed, but he got to her first. When the dick picked her up, he looked at my mother and said, “This is bullshit. We’re done,” and headed for the door. I’d had enough. I had to stop myself from pounding the shit out of him. I told him to put her down and get the fuck out. That fucking asshole was not taking her.
Mom ran after them and I tried to but Serena held me back. I couldn’t let her just leave so I shrugged off my sister and went to get my girl. When I saw him putting her in his car, I yelled at him to bring my Dahl back. When the prick told me, “She’s mine. You don’t deserve her, you never did,” I let him know how it really was—that he was just a substitute, not my replacement. And I wanted to beat the shit out of him, I really did, when he said, “Then
