The tips of my fingers press down on her neck as I pull her closer and deepen the kiss. She moans against my mouth and clutches the front of my hoodie. Her hand slips upward, her palm rests on my neck, on my scars. “No,” I withdraw, “don’t touch me.”
She pulls back her hand, curling it against her chest. “Why?”
Out of breath from the kiss, I rest my forehead against hers. “Right now, I need to stay in control. If you touch me, my defenses will go up and everything else will shut down. It’ll make the withdrawals that much worse. It’ll make me need the drugs that much more, and we don’t want that, do we?”
“No.” She licks her lips. “We don’t want that.”
“Place your hands behind your back,” I say, and to my astonishment, she does as I’ve requested. “Good.” I palm her cheek. She’s so soft. “Stay just like that.” I run my hand from her neck to her shoulder and drag the thin strap of her tank top down her arm. I tug, exposing her white lacy bra. She gasps and the sound ripples through my cock. “God, I’ve missed these tits.” I trace a finger along the lace. I grip the material and pull her bra down to reveal an erect pink nipple. Brushing the pad of my thumb over her rosy tip, I look up. Head tilted back, with her eyes closed, she lets out a sweet little moan. The sound draws my head down to her breast for a lick. Feeling her harden against my tongue, I bite her tightly beaded nipple.
“Slate…” She huskily says my name, beckoning me to her.
I move up to her willowy neck, sucking and nipping her silky flesh until finally arriving at her hungry mouth. I suck in her bottom lip, and then sink my teeth into it. Hands still behind her back, she crushes her body against mine, and she lets out a needy cry. Fuck! This was supposed to be a distraction, but I also intended to scare her into letting me go. But, dammit, she wants this, too. How could she still want me? I pull back from her mouth and gaze into her glossy eyes.
Her whole face spreads into a smile. “Ah, there it is,” she whispers, as if she just found something she lost. “There’s that beautiful glint in your eyes. I thought it might be gone forever.”
Her and my eyes; she’s been fascinated with them since we were kids. I never understood it. “Babe, what you see in my eyes, it’s got nothing to do with me. And why you’re the only one who sees it.” I stroke her cheek. “Well, that’s because that glint is nothing more than the reflection of you. You are and always have been that light you speak of in my eyes.” Her smile slips away as she goes to open her mouth. “No.” I shake my head. “Don’t say anything. You always do this fucking shit to me. You make me honest and that is the truth.” I take a deep breath and back up. “But, right now, that’s the best I can give you.” I gently pull her bra back up and fix her tank top while she quietly watches me. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she says, confusion tightening her cheeks.
“Now, I’m going to lie down for a bit and try to fucking relax.” I settle my beat body onto the sofa and roll over, facing away from her. Every muscle aches, my stomach is in knots, and now, my cock is hard and my chest hurts, but I don’t think that has anything to do with the withdrawals. That ache in my chest might very well be my heart hard at work. The fuckin’ thing is trying to feel again, and my fucking cock wants to react to it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I open my eyes. Shit. I must’ve fallen asleep. It’s dark, and the only light in the room flickers from the TV. I turn to check on Slate. He’s sitting up on the sofa. Head bent, he’s frantically rubbing his hand and arm. He looks up at me. “I can’t get it off,” he says, before lowering his head and scrubbing harder on his scarred flesh. “I gotta get it off.”
Not sure what to do or say, I get up, walk over, and slide beside him on the sofa.
He lifts his sleeve. “Fuck!” He thrusts his arm out to me. “Look, it’s getting worse.” Confused, I glance down at his scars then to his huge dilated pupils. He leans back on the sofa and pulls up his hoodie. “Shit.” His eyes flash from his stomach to me. He jumps up, yanks his hoodie and t-shirt off, and starts to inspect his scars as if seeing them for the first time. “It’s all over me.” He shoots me a look of confusion. “Help me get it off.”
Oh my God! I stare up at him. He’s hallucinating, and considering that people don’t usually hallucinate with opiate withdrawals, that can only mean one thing. Slate’s high. Obviously, before carrying him down here, Jax and Zeke didn’t do a good job of searching Slate for any drugs. He either had some hidden on him or he had something stashed down here in the den, and he must’ve taken it while I was asleep on the sofa. I should get up and walk away from him right now, but looking at him and seeing how lost he is, I can’t do it. I told myself that I’d see him through this, and dammit, that’s what I’m going to do.