Chapter 61 Hell of a view
“Ah,” I murmur, nodding slowly. “The car.”
“I love that car,” he says, like I should understand the gravity of that. His gaze flicks briefly toward the tree behind me, his eyes flickering with a devious light “If I had a knife right now, I’d carve something into your precious tree just so you get how that felt.”
I let out a short breath, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “I already apologized.” I remind him, my voice dropping an octave as I pull him even tighter, our chests rising and falling in the same rhythm.
“Yeah. You did, but it wasn’t genuine.”
"Then tell me," I whisper, leaning in until our noses brush. "What can I do to show you how heartfelt it was?"
He studies me for a second, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath. “You tell me,” he whispers, just loud enough for me to catch.
Something shifts. The space between us narrows, not physically at first, but in that way where everything else just fades. Kaden closes the final inch, and this time, whatever he was holding back earlier, whatever restraint he was using to keep me at arm's length, it’s gone. He unleashes his want with a ferocity that catches me off guard, his mouth moving against mine with a starving, desperate heat.
He grinds up against me, a low groan vibrating in his throat that sends a shot of pure adrenaline through my blood. His hands are everywhere, roaming my back, gripping the damp fabric of my coat, traveling over every surface of me he can reach. He’s claiming me back, his touch heavy and possessive.
I pull back just an inch, my lungs burning, the taste of him still humming on my tongue. He's flushed, his eyes dark and dilated, searching mine with a sudden, sharp clarity.
"Were you lying?" he asks, his fingers still tangled in the wet hair at the nape of my neck. "About this place. Have you really never brought anyone else up here?"
I shake my head, my breath hitching as I look at him. "Never."
The words seem to act like a match to a fuse. Like the answer mattered more than he wanted it to. He crashes back into me, his mouth hungry and demanding. I can feel him hardening against my thigh, a solid, insistent pressure that makes my own cock stir and throb in immediate, violent response. The friction through our damp clothes is agonizing.
He shifts, his mouth sliding from mine to trace the line of my jaw before his lips find my earlobe. He sucks it into his mouth, the heat of his tongue sending a jolt of electricity straight to my gut, before nipping it sharply between his teeth.
"You’ve got less than an hour before I have to leave," his voice is a low, gravelly vibration that makes my skin crawl in the best way possible. "How do you intend to take advantage of the time?"
I’m breathing hard now, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Despite the biting wind and the wet fabric clinging to us, I feel like I’m standing in the center of a furnace. I slide my hands beneath the hem of his soaked shirt, my palms flat against the searing heat of his skin. He flinches at the cold of my touch, but he doesn't pull away, he arches into me instead.
"Should I be wary of this sudden change of heart?" I ask, my voice rough and strained. My thumbs trace the indentation of his spine, pinning him to me. "Is this just a distraction? You getting me to drop my guard so you can drive a stake through my back for the tire?"
He doesn't answer with words. He reaches down, his hand closing over the rigid length of my cock through the fabric of my trousers. He squeezes with a possessiveness that nearly brings me to my knees. He tilts his head back, his eyes locked on mine, challenging and beautiful and utterly lethal.
"Guess we'll see," he murmurs.
His hand is a vice, stroking with a bruising pressure that has my head spinning. I reach up, my fingers tangling deep into his wet hair, pulling just enough to force his head back so he has to look at me. My breath is coming in short, jagged hitches, the cold air burning my throat.
"It’s a hell of a view," I rasp, my eyes tracking the land before settling back on him. "Want to improve it?"
He lets out a breath that’s half-shiver, half-moan, his hand never slowing its work. "How?" He asks, "You want to fuck me against a tree like some cliché in a cheap paperback?"
I chuckle dryly, the sound vibrating in my chest. I have to close my eyes for a second as he shifts his grip, stroking me rougher, more insistent. "I was thinking more along the lines of the picture you’d make on your knees for me. Out here....In the open."
He leans back in, his hand leaving my neck to cup my jaw possessively. He looks at me with something wild and uninhibited, a reckless glint in his eyes that tells me he’s finally stopped fighting the current. Something that mirrors exactly what I’m trying not to let take over. He leans in, catching my lower lip between his teeth and sucking on it with a slow, agonizing heat before pulling back just enough to speak. It's intentional...provoking.
"No one else is here?" he asks.
The blood is rushing so loud in my ears I can hardly think straight. "Not out here. No."
"Are you sure, Bastian?"
The shift in his tone catches me. The seriousness, the underlying flash of the man who was just terrified of ruining his life for a 'momentary thrill' hits me. All I want to do is settle the storm in him. I reach up, my palm sliding over his cheek. It’s a reflex, a move so devoid of my usual calculation that it almost scares me.
He leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat, a small, silent surrender that feels heavier than anything we've said so far.
"There’s no one," I assure him, my voice dropping into a softness I don't recognize as my own. "I promise."
He studies me, his gaze searching for the lie and coming up empty. He licks his lips, the challenge returning to his expression, sharper than before.
"You said I enjoy it when you make me do things," he murmurs, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “You still stand by that?” There’s a challenge in it. Clear and intentional.
This time, there’s no hesitation. “Yeah. I do,” I say, voice darker now.
The look in his eyes sets off an alarm in my blood. There’s something addictive about the way he baits me, a pull that I can’t name and sure as hell can't simmer down. It’s primal. It’s a need to see exactly how much he’ll give me if I just take it.
I don’t hesitate. I tighten my grip on his hair, the wet strands sliding between my fingers, and I use the leverage to push him down. He doesn't fight it. He goes with a fluid, haunting grace, sinking onto his knees in the grass right at my feet.
The view doesn't just improve. It becomes the only thing worth looking at.