Chapter 78

His crown was immersed in hot, wet suction and his eyes flew open. She took him deeper into her mouth, fisting his base, and he couldn't drag air into his lungs. Tongue swirling, lapping. Cheeks hollowing. Hand pumping. He groaned from a place so deep in his gut his ribs rattled.

Her name shoved from his lips in a hoarse, long-winded exhale. "So good, anim."

He wanted his hands in her hair, needed to thrust, but he curled his fingers on the tile and locked his legs instead. She never paused or slowed, but when she hummed around his shaft, he lost it. Sensation after sensation flew at him, through him. Blinding heat. Raw desperation. Tension coiled in his back and surged up his spine.

"I'm there." His brows pinched as his mouth opened wide. "Amy, I'm..."

Erupting. From the inside out.

He popped from her mouth, but her hand continued stroking. Tight around his length. Over his head. Back down. The fingers of her other hand massaged his balls, tugged, and he jerked, shuddering as wave after wave rolled through him. A shout raked his throat. Muscles dislodged from bone. Light blasted behind his closed lids.

Mary Mother of God.

She eased up, and he caught his breath. Or tried to. Her fingers trailed over his abs, his hips, and he realized she was rinsing him off. He didn't think he could open his eyes, but he put effort into the task and stared down at her.

Someone looked pleased with herself. And she should. He was even happier, not only because he'd come, that she'd brought him there, but because she was shedding doubt and going with her instincts.

"Come up here so I can kiss you." He didn't wait. Grabbing her under the arms, he hauled her up his body and crushed his lips to hers.

Later, after he'd changed into sweats and a tee, and she'd put on pajamas that covered almost none of her curves, they sat out on the back deck. With her between his legs on a lounge chair, she reclined against his chest and sighed, gazing up at the stars. If he never moved from this spot, he'd consider himself lucky.

Idly, he ran his fingers through her strands and breathed in her sultry scent. Crickets chirped and leaves rustled in the humid breeze, but other than that, her respirations were the only sound. It was so dark the shadows had shadows, the inky sky the only light, but he didn't think he'd ever seen more clearly.

Since they'd met as children, he'd been comfortable in her presence, able to say or do or be anything with her around. But once they'd become intimate, that level of trust turned the tether into a knot. Despite the way she made his heart pound, the nerves fluttering in his gut whenever she was near, he'd never felt closer to someone than he did Amy. It was uncanny, considering he never knew what was going to fly out of her mouth next and half the time he had the strongest urge to bang his head.

Maybe that was the key, though. Balance. He preferred his own company and quiet. She put the "if" in life. There wasn't the slightest chance of things growing stale between them or for him to question whether he was settling. Not with her. Throw in the chemistry, and there wasn't a doubt they were right where they belonged.

Yet there was darkness hiding in her mind, hovering at the fringes. He'd caught it a time or two, and he never measured the depth or how deeply it was embedded until she'd started dropping her guard. A shield he had no clue was even in place. He'd been a part of her life for more than half of his. Learning there were things she'd hidden from him was almost more jarring than the fact they were there. It went beyond basic self-esteem, too. He didn't have an inkling what her secret was, but whatever it happened to be, it kept her from engaging one-hundred percent. She'd been holding back, and he needed to know why. They'd never get anywhere otherwise.

At first, he'd figured she didn't have faith in them in a romantic sense. Possibly even him, to a degree. But the longer he thought about it, he was beginning to realize it was herself she didn't trust. Like everyone else, he'd believed her false sense of confidence. No doubt, she had herself fooled. Her sharp tongue and try-to-stop-me mentality had been so much a part of her personality that it was close to genetic. Yet how much was a defense mechanism and how much was the real her?

Again, he remembered her sitting on the cliff ledge by the creek, talking to Nate. They'd been deep in conversation, and Nakos itched to know what they'd discussed. He hadn't been able to see much when he'd glanced at them to check on her, but he'd caught a few blips of her distant expression. Nate's, too.

Nakos hated to admit it, but the former soldier may be the best person for Amy to open up to. He'd seen and done some unimaginable things in his short thirty years on Earth, and those horrors followed him everywhere. Between Olivia and a lot of effort, he was working past it and moving on. Going after his happy. It couldn't be easy, yet he was trying.

The most gutting part of all was, that darkness he'd seen in Nate's eyes was a mirror to the one he'd found in Amy's. The thought of her in pain, of anything hurting her, stole the beat from his heart.

He rested his chin on the top of her head and banded his arms tighter. As if that would be enough to hold her to him. "You okay, anim?"

She hummed quietly in her throat. "You ask me that a lot."

Because he needed a straight answer, even if he didn't necessarily want to hear it. "I worry about you." All the damn time.

Silent for a beat, she traced her fingers over his forearms he'd wrapped around her chest. "I had a crush on you in high school."

What? "I..." Didn't know what to say. He'd had no idea. Shocked didn't begin to cover it.

"It wasn't hardcore or anything. An awareness or attraction, I suppose. I used to pray you'd notice, but you never did." She sighed and turned in his arms, bringing her knees up so that she sat sideways between his thighs.

Resting her cheek on his pec, she went quiet again, but when she did speak moments later, her voice had a distant, melancholy note. "I'm used to disappointment in one form or another. I spent too much time hoping my parents would love me a smidgen of how much they do my brother, but that's never going to happen. Or sitting alone at the kitchen table night by endless night, an uneaten meal growing colder, thinking today would be the day my husband looked at me. Or staring at myself in the mirror, wondering if I'd ever see a reflection that didn't make me turn instantly away in disgust."

He attempted basic oxygen exchange. Impossible. His lungs had seized. A knife dipped in acid and rammed into his abdomen would cause less pain than her admission. Still as stone, gutted, he stared at the horizon, not sure what in the hell to do.

She fingered the sleeve of his tee. "You not realizing I had some stupid crush is barely a blip in disappointments, really, but I don't know how to respond when you want to know how I am. A lot's happened between those idealistic girly years and today. Even if we're together now, I'm merely chugging along, waiting for you to call it quits. I keep going back to all those instances I pretended you weren't on my mind, when I didn't look at every couple and wish that was us. Life's taught me dreams are pointless and wanting something doesn't mean I'll ever get it."

She shrugged. "Doesn't matter, though. I'm here, landing on my feet like always, and ready for the next battle where I wind up flipping Karma the bird. So when you ask me if I'm okay, I lie. Because I may not be, but I will soon enough."

Silence hung, and the agony in his chest was so brutal, he glanced down to check if his breastbone had been clawed open. All he found was her thick cap of cocoa strands covering the cavity where his heart used to be. Hollowed, devastated, he buried his face in her hair.

"Bet you're sorry you asked. It's much easier just to say I'm fine."

He slammed his eyes shut, tears burning behind his lids. Breathing through it, he waited until he thought he could speak. He had to clear his throat twice to accomplish the feat. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"You didn't. Heck, you didn't even know."

Wrong. He may have been blind to her feelings, but he had hurt her. Of the few people in her life she gave a shit about, he was closest to the top of the pile. And he'd unwillingly proved she was of little significance by not seeing what was in front of him. Because of how much they cared about one another, he'd probably done the worst damage.