Page 33 of Wandering in Love
“Then why are you fighin’ me?” His voice cracks.
“I’m broken.” The words fall from my lips, ripped straight from my soul, before I stop them.
“What are you talking about?”
“I can’t have kids.” With a gasp, I cover my lips with my hand.
“How do you know?”
Taking a deep breath, I force back the tears and sit up so I’m not touching him anymore. He deserves the whole truth, and I don’t deserve his comfort.
“When I left, I was pregnant.”
His eyes bore into me, a mixture of hurt, sympathy and anger etched into his features.
“It was the day I took a test, actually. I was so scared of being trapped here and never learning to stand on my own. You deserved so much better. I’m so sorry.”
Ian’s shoulders are stiff, but he reaches for my hand.
“My car broke down in Samson, and I couldn’t afford to get it fixed. I was able to find a job at a stable with room and board, so I wasn’t making much, but I had a place to sleep. Just a few weeks later, I miscarried.”
The word sticks in my throat, triggering the tears. Covering my face with my hands, I weep, soul-deep sobs that leave me raw and vulnerable.
Ian pulls me into his lap, tucking my face in the crook of his neck and wraps his arms around me. “That’s not your fault.”
I shake my head. He doesn’t understand.
It is my fault. I didn’t see a doctor, I was working too hard, I left. It’s my fault.
“It is,” I weep into my hands. “I went to the doctor. My hormones aren’t right. Something with a bunch of letters, PC something. My body doesn’t work right.”
“Look at me.” He lifts my head and gently pulls my hands away from my face. “Having a miscarriage don’t make you broken. Having messed-up hormones don’t make you broken. It doesn’t make you any less of a woman. And more importantly, it doesn’t make you any less mine.”
The air in my lungs is sucked out, completely gone.
“What?” I choke out the word.
“You’re mine, Wildflower. I don’t care if you can have babies or not. We’ll adopt if you want kids. Otherwise, I’ll get ya a puppy.”
Shocked by his response, I laugh. “A puppy?”
His face brightens with a smile. “I’m not a cat man. I draw the line at kittens.” He reaches for the nape of my neck. “Gimme that mouth.”
Lifting up to press my lips to his, I do as he demands. He wastes no time claiming my mouth. The erotic push and pull of his tongue against mine has me squirming, lust pooling low in my hips, desperate to let him claim me again. And again.
With a growl, he bites my lip for a second, then rests his forehead against mine.
“If you don’t stop grinding that pussy on my dick…” He lets the sentence trail off.
Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I slide my hand between us and free him from the thin fabric of his boxers. My hand wraps around the girthy appendage, stroking him slowly as he growls at me.
“Eva,” Ian rumbles, his eyes locking on mine. “Ride me.”
Adjusting my position, I slide his tip through my folds then sink down, taking him deep inside me. My head falls back and his teeth dig into my skin. I wrap my arms around his neck; one of his hands tangles in my hair, while the other grips my ass cheek, encouraging me to grind on him. The stretch every time we fuck is mind-blowing. He hits everything just right.
My hips work against him, rolling him so deep my eyes roll back in my head. The dusting of his chest hair tickles my nipples, turning them into hard peaks while my clit brushes against his pelvis. So many sensations overwhelming my system have me on the edge of an orgasm so damn fast.
I’m almost there. Sparks skitter across my skin, a whimper passes my lips, and Ian rolls us so my back is against the mattress and he’s hammering into me.