Page 62 of The Finish Line

I love her beyond limits because she loved me through what I forced her to endure. She loved me, though I made us impossible.

I was the one who forced our stars to blaze past each other. I was the one whose wrath made our path detrimental to us both.

And she loved, and still loves me, despite it all.

But even with the solidarity of that love, it’s trust and forgiveness I seek.

It’s when she goes limp that I go in for another, and she clamps her thighs against my ears in an attempt to push me away. Wrenching them apart, her dark-blue eyes shine with momentary surrender as I bow and resume my worship.

With a few more targeted thrashing licks, she’s writhing again, and it’s then I relent, pulling my soaked fingers from her, licking the sweet, tangy aftermath off my lips. Dick throbbing, I watch her come down, her eyes glazing over. Flushed and gasping, she looks down at me when I bend and kiss the top of her pussy, the sensitive skin of her thighs, darting my tongue out one last time to her center, spearing her with my tongue just to satisfy my own greed with one last taste. When I lift to hover above her, the sight of her takes my breath. She’s a prism of beauty, glowing in residue as I flip her, caressing the wings on her back with my fingers. For the first time since I marked her, I can fully appreciate them for what they represent. Gripping her neck with my hand, I run my throbbing dick along her slit before lowering my mouth to trace the ink with my lips and tongue.

“Faite pour moi.” Made for me.

I squeeze her neck, kissing every single inch of marked skin before collapsing to her side, refusing myself the chance to make my words a lie.

Slow.

The stars have managed to pave the way for us again, and I’m not fucking up another chance to collide with her.

It’s taken me years to admit that the thing I fought the hardest brings me the most peace—as much peace as a man like me can have.

Turning her head, she looks over to me with eyes that hold heavily guarded affection, and I know I made the right choice by stopping myself.

“I won’t pretend to know how I hurt you or what it felt like when I did, Cecelia. But I do know how much it hurt me, and that’s enough to know I deserve your anger and caution. But right now, I need you too goddamn much to stay away when you’re right fucking here in front of me. When you are who you are, which is, in case you’re wondering, the other fucking half of me. I’m sorry for the things I’ve done, but it’s time you let me show you how much.”

She slowly nods her head, a lone tear sliding down her cheek. She’s angry with herself for giving in, and I make a firm decision that I won’t press her for more physically, no matter how much the space hurts.

Slow, it is.

We lay there for long moments before I speak again.

“Ask me anything,” I whisper as she regards me carefully, mulling over her thoughts before she finally speaks.

“Is the truck... with your things, still idling?”

I dip my chin.

“Then have them brought here.” Lifting to hover above her, I grip her face in my hand, searching for the sincerity in her words. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You know what you’re saying?”

“I’m adequately scared, Tobias, and I’m not playing immune, but I like to think that my naïveté died a long time ago. I know who I am now. Next time, believe me—” her eyes flash with residual anger from the night her innocence was truly stolen, her tone sharpening with hindsight bite—“I won’t hesitate.”

She’s finally on guard the way I need her to be, and that brings me partial relief. Leaning in, I draw her lips in for a kiss. She breaks it, her voice an icy warning. “I’m expecting huge fucking dividends on my investment, Mr. King, a big payoff. You break my trust, my fucking heart again, and I’ll put a bullet in you my damn self. I’m still angry. I’m still trying to get used to the idea of you being here. All is not well with us, yet, but facts are facts, and the facts are, we’re in this together, no matter what. There’s a lot that hasn’t changed and never will. And sadly, I do love you, too.”

I can’t help my chuckle, and I kiss her again, this time more aggressively, and she latches on, kissing me back because we both know time isn’t on our side, never has been. These seconds are precious, and she lets me draw on her as much as I want because she feels it too. We’re forever on borrowed time, our opponents faceless, a whole new board, but this time we’re making all our moves together. When she finally pulls herself away, keeping closer to the edge from the free fall she used to allow herself when we got swept in our emotions for the other, I allow her the retreat. It’s when she pauses at the doorway to the bathroom, looking back at me for lingering seconds with the same longing, that I feel a shift between us. It’s small, but it’s there.

And it’s enough.

Finally.

Progress.

Chapter Eighteen

Tobias