Reverence - Book 2

- 31 -

I had forgotten the way his skin felt beneath my finger tips. How rigid the lines of his shoulders were and how generous the heat of him was. 

Those dark eyes watched every stroke of my finger. Part of my lips. 

He had been keeping mysterious distance between us. 

We lay on the leather chaise, watching the quiet storm of the ocean through swaying black fronds. He held a possessive hand at the back of my neck, the other caressing my thigh that was slung over his waist. I felt the careful breaths against my forehead, listened to the steady beat of his heart against my own. 

We hadn't spoken much at all. Just hushed sincerities and a panicked glance followed by a reassuring grin. 

But his hands. 

They were strong, wrapped up in me. He wasn't going to let go. Not again. 

Never again. 

I felt those sure fingers tip under my chin, tilting my slight face to him. 

He looked tired. His eyes had grown dull, circled in stale purple rings. The lines of his mouth were a bit more sunken, and his stubble was thicker than he usually kept. 

"I am still in disbelief that you are here now." 

He whispered. I nuzzled my chin softly against his fingers, tips preening against my skin. They were hot pouring rain, needles prickling and electricity circulating. 

I let my hands course down his chest, fingers loitering at the edge of his soft cotton shirt. Our bodies were warm, being swallowed by the smooth leather of the chaise. 

He was here, he was now. I was here. 

I was in his now. 

The soft pattering of rain on the thick window panes was melodic to the baritone of our hearts. Mine felt like it was perched in my throat. I swallowed past it, my breath squeezing around the pulsating organ. 

"I must admit that I too am a little surprised by my presence." 

I breathed, letting my curious fingers creep beneath the hem that they had been so lazily taunting. 

I feel the muscles of his stomach coil beneath the explorative touch of those fingers. It was a black snake winding, tongue flickering in warning. 

My nails caressed every rigid inch of skin, feeling timid goose bumps rise beneath them. His breath was hot, flaring carefully at his nose. He swallowed, and I watched the wanting moan roll back down his throat. 

It had never occurred to me that Luca could be starving. 

Starving for touch, for release. For quiet blue eyes to undo him unlike any graze of a hand could. I dug into that hot skin and watched the fire catch in those irises. 

"I missed you," 

I whispered, watching the flames dance at every scrape and caution of my fingers. 

"When I saw you-" 

His hand tightened around my chin, eyes fully engulfed. 

"I don't want to talk about then, when this is my now." 

The delicious fluttering traipsed across my stomach curling over my thighs, like wet wings emerging from it's deadened cocoon. 

His lips were within reach of my own, the sweetness of those full round perfections brought a gluttonous taste to my mouth, the tip of my tongue pressing needfully against the inside of my own. 

His long sure hand slipped form it's grasp on my face to the exposed plain of my throat, his touch sizzling down the soft skin. His eyes followed his touch, taking in longingly the ways he could undo me. 

He was so good at me. Knowing when to touch, to kiss. To take away. Like he was doing now, charming my skin to follow those mesmerizing fingers. 

I felt the firm leather embrace my back, my shoulders sinking fully into the chaise. His hands were in the small of my back, his knee sliding between my own, his thigh pressing deliciously against me. The fluttering had transformed into a fully surmounted tempest, my desire roiling as intensely as the waves below us. 

"Do you know," 

He breathed, his hands sliding from their rest over the flat expanse of my torso, each finger so achingly slow over each of my ribs. 

"The ways that I could fuck you now?" 

Those words rumbled deeply within his throat, primacy. Desperately. 

I shook my head, my breath preoccupied by the encroaching touch of those fingers. 

"I could slip these down your pretty legs and taste you until you ruin this leather and the sun will arise to our sins" 

He adjusted his leg, that hard thigh pressing sweetly into me. I grasped at the breath that he threatened to pull from my lips. 

"Or, I'd rather you writhe under my hands as you beg for me to just fuck you as I tease against that perfect pussy." 

His lips moaned against my ear. I was shivering, the heat chilling me to my bone. 

"But you would like it to much. You don't know the pain you've put me through Yelena." 

His fingers were around my throat once more. But they were squeezing tightly against my pleasure, rather holding me hostage to his desire. 

"You don't deserve the pleasure," 

The tighten. His lips hover as the tip of his salacious tongue trace along the lobe of my ear. 

"Maybe you do." 

That tongue was tracing down the edge of my jaw. His fingers slipped from the skin of my neck to the quivering readiness of my bottom lip. 

"I wont let you into heaven until you've walked through hell." 

A teasing tip pulled along my lip, my tongue darting out to follow it's methodical need. 

He was close, closer than he has been in so long. I let my hands slide across his shoulders, fingers tangling into his dark hair. 

His fingers abandoned my lip, instead caressing my face bringing it into his own. His nose gently pressed beside mine, the essence of his breath on my own. 

"You have left me in the darkness," 

He whispered. 

I let my eyes flutter close, hanging in waiting. 

I had dreamed of his lips on mine. Felt it deeply within my dreams only to wake in the morning as the feeling escapes as quickly as the mornings mist on my windows. My soul was aching against my ribs, reaching desperately for his own. 

"And I would never leave you there." 

I felt the sudden emptiness take over me. His hands withdrew, my fire, flames, soul and spirit ashes to blackness. 

My eyes came open with a start. 

He was standing now, his back turned slightly to me, his eyes focused on the endless black sands of the beach being taken back by the angry water. Rain was being thrown needlessly into the calm windows and he sighed. It was soft, almost passible. 

"But maybe I should." 

I lay there silently, listening to the roil of the storm and the deadening of my heart. 

I was the Starving one.