He stilled for one moment, and their eyes met. And in that instant, the presence of something momentous rose between them…wrapped around them…called out to some hidden part of each one.
For an endless span, they barely breathed. In Mitch’s eyes, Perrie saw the flicker of the longing she couldn’t define.
It was too overwhelming. She pulled him closer, wrapping her legs around his hips, sensing the pull of the ecstasy he’d given her before, but wanting something else, too—something more.
He shook his head as if denying the draw and drove into her faster, deeper, closing his eyes, his face once again a mask. Alone as she’d seen him so often.
And then Perrie realized what it was she wanted.
Love. To give this man love.
Her heartbeat scrambled. She wanted to retreat, to run away from what she was feeling, from such a foolish, unattainable need.
But before she could, Mitch bent his head and took her mouth, his tongue echoing his strokes inside her body. He surrounded her, filled her, cast away anything inside her but himself. She was lost in the wonder of Mitch, only Mitch, when the wonder exploded and the world went white behind her eyes. He took her soaring out past anything she’d ever sensed, ever felt, ever known.
Mitch felt it, too, and in the midst of ecstasy, he knew a dread so deep it seared his soul.
All of this, all that he felt, all that burst inside him now would vanish. He would be as he had always been. Alone.
And once again, he would know the bitter sting of what he had lost.
Mitch struggled to hold back, not to feel anymore. She would tear out his heart. He would not survive.
But she was too warm, too willing, too sweet. Like a sorceress, she called forth all that he claimed as his own.
Mitch fought the pull, but it was too strong. He yearned for an end to his darkness, a sweet taste of peace. Like it or not, Perrie had shown him both, and the need of her brought him to his knees.
With a groan that tore at the very roots of his soul, Mitch surrendered. With one last, bittersweet thrust, Mitch sent them spiraling, holding her tightly against him while they careened through a sky shot with sparks, whirling with color, sizzling with a fire that had surely branded him to his depths.
But even as she pulsed around him, sanity battered at euphoria. With a sudden, awful clarity, he realized that he’d surrendered too soon, sold himself too cheap.
He could sink into her body a thousand times and he would never find what he needed most, wanted most. She could share her body with him, but she kept the secrets of her heart to herself. Warming himself at her gentle fire, feeling a moment of peace, was not enough.
He’d been alone for so long. He’d never known how it could feel to be this close. She’d taunted him with this taste, but still she held back, even after what they’d shared. He had to have more.
“Perrie,” he whispered, rolling to his side, his breath warm and soft against her temple. “Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me why you wouldn’t come to Cy. Tell me why you’re afraid.”
She went stiff in his arms, as though the moments just past had been a dream. “There’s nothing wrong.”
But she was lying, he could hear it in her voice, feel it in her frame. He should let it go, make love to her again. Settle for what he could have, and forget what she held back.
But he could not. “Let me help. This woman in my arms is not the woman who wouldn’t come to the phone when Cy was dying. Explain it to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She pulled away and sat up, the curtain of her hair hiding her face. “I was…traveling, I told you. I didn’t know.”
“You’re lying.” He sat up, too, turning her to face him, pushing back her hair, gripping her jaw. “Look at me and tell me that again.”
Blue eyes darkened, and she swallowed hard. He saw the briefest flicker, but it could have been the fire’s light.
“I was out of the country. No one told me you called.” Her voice was stronger, but it didn’t matter. Her eyes told the truth. Despite what they’d shared, she still did not trust him.
He swore under his breath, and Perrie jerked away as if he’d struck her. She rose, holding her clothes in front of her like a shield. Her voice shook slightly when she spoke. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry. I was just—you saved Davey and I—”
If she’d cut his heart out with a rusty knife, it couldn’t have hurt any more. A debt. She was only paying a debt. She didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth about her past, and she had only lain with him because he’d saved her son.
At sixteen, he’d learned the price of letting his emotions run free. He’d never made that mistake again—until now. He’d let himself feel too much ever since they’d come, been lulled into thinking nothing would happen that he couldn’t control.