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“Immediately and without hesitation.”
“It's why we have no contact. But Willow doesn't know her. She didn't make Willow sick, and all Willow knows is that she was six years old and went to live with Gran. She doesn't remember or know why I was always in the hospital. She was a little kid. I've never had the heart to tell her the truth."
"She's your sister. She deserves to know. And you deserve to have her support."
"She deserves peace. I have to go to the wedding and keep the peace."
“Fine. With one small caveat. I’m coming with you.”
28
Daphne
For the first time in what felt like weeks, I slept. Hard. I fought it at first, but I was so cocooned in warmth that there was no avoiding it. I wouldn't say so much that I dreamed, but it was more like I had these visions of someone big and protective surrounding me, where for once, nothing could touch me, nothing could hurt me.
My mind conjured up images of a man because, well, of course, it would be a man. But I couldn't see his face. His chest was broad and tapered down to his waist as he showcased ridges on his flat abdomen. And his arms were strong enough to keep the world out. To keep out anything that would harm me.
I started blinking awake and nuzzled against the heat, balling in. When I blinked my eyes open, that same chest in my dreams was right there in front of me. My mouth went dry, and I did something that didn't even feel like me. I leaned forward and pressed a kiss against one of his pectorals.
Suddenly, a hiss filled the air, and I jerked back, meeting Drake's gaze. He was awake. And I was in no dream. All night he'd held me tight to his body. But somehow, we'd turned from the spooning position to one where I'd been tucked right up against his chest. His gaze bore into mine, and it was almost like he was holding his breath.
I blinked up at him, not sure where to go, or what to do, or what to say.
He, of course, said nothing. Just watched me expectantly, waiting for me to do or say something.
But what was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to say? All night, he held me and kept the monsters away. And before that, he'd let me talk to my sister. Maybe he wasn't the devil I’d thought he was all along.
Daphne, this is insane.
I knew it was wild. The thing was it almost didn't matter. No one had ever made me feel as safe as he did. He just waited for me to say something, waited for me to make a move. Waited as if he had all the time in the world.
I leaned forward again, pressing another kiss to his pec.
What are you doing?
I had no idea. There were a million and one really good reasons why this was the worst idea I'd ever had in my life, and there were many. So, so many.
But the point was, I was drawn to him. And despite my better judgment, I believed him. I'd been around liars all my life. People who'd lied about what they wanted from me, people who lied about caring about me. But Drake wasn't lying. His honesty was something I could feel. It was tangible, palpable.
Just like the desire in his eyes right now.
Again, he was still watching me with the same single-minded focus. The intensity, the desire mixed with need and confusion. Yet still, he waited.
I tilted my head up, shifting my body slightly, licking my lips before I tentatively placed a kiss on his. And then I waited. His growl was low, but I could feel the rumble against my chest. When I pulled back, his gaze had darkened and his tongue peeked out to taste his bottom lip.
I absolutely knew what I was dealing with. I absolutely understood that Drake was a caged animal. But I reached up and kissed him again, this time licking my tongue over his bottom lip. And then he kissed me back, his tongue meeting mine, his hands fisting gently into my curls, anchoring me close as he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming me, making sure that not a single corner went unexplored. When he increased the tension in my hair and gently pulled back, his gaze was harder, more intense. "Is this what you want?"
The question was clear. He was asking me to make a choice. And I realized in that moment, from the second I'd seen him up until now, I'd never stood a chance. This was an inevitability. He was just asking me to voice that invisible thing. That tension between us that kept pulling me into his orbit and him into mine.
"Yes."
He flipped me on my back so fast I gasped, unable to get enough air. My head spun, his big body bracketing mine as he kissed me deep. Hands in my hair, tugging on my curls, angling me just how he wanted. His tongue swept in, giving me drugging kisses meant to cloud and confuse and entice. I didn't know which way was up. All I knew was him. His hands, his lips, his body, his hips notched between mine, the length of the erection that had been pressing against me all night like a constant, steady anchor. Insistent now. Harder than steel and promising ecstasy. And if I was honest, possibly pain.
He rocked his hips into mine, and I gasped as a shot of pleasure rang through my body. He did it again, and this time he hissed as he pulled back, burrowing his face into my neck, licking, nipping, biting. The feel of his teeth had my back arching and my hands clasping in his hair, holding him against me. He rocked against me one more time, and I went off like a rocket.
Even as he rotated his hips against me, his cock lining up right over my clit, rubbing gently, over and over and over again, he watched me. His hooded gaze softened the cocky smirk on his face. "Fuck me, you have a hair trigger."
There was no way for me to communicate that I had never had a hair trigger in my life. That this thing that I was feeling was him. All him. A complete by-product of what he was doing to me. He rocked into me again, and I whimpered, begging for something I didn't even know.
