Witch(55)

“Hold me,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his back, pulling him deeper into me. “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” he said, moving himself back and forth on top of me. “I won’t ever let you go.”

I ran my hands up and down his back, gripping his butt as it moved slowly but firmly up and down.

“Harder,” I whispered in his ear, smothering his shoulders, neck, and face in kisses.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered back, his hips moving faster and harder.

That well of burning built within me again. I clung to him, wanting him. “Harder! Faster!” I cried.

Vincent pushed deeper into me, both of us now groaning. We clung to each other, our bodies hot and covered in a fine sheen of glistening sweat. The music seemed to grow louder as if competing with our cries of pleasure. It felt like the walls of the room were closing in on me, pressing us closer together. My head spun and my heart raced faster and faster in time with Vincent’s rapidly increasing thrusts. That pit of heat in my stomach exploded outwards, making every one of my nerve endings seethe with life. I bucked beneath Vincent as my body convulsed uncontrollably.

“I love you,” he cried out.

“I love you,” I whispered breathlessly, as his whole body seemed to lock, then spasm in my arms.

“You have no idea how long I’ve loved you, Sydney,” he murmured as both our bodies weakened and we collapsed into one another’s arms.

Chapter Thirty-Two



Vincent rolled off me and onto his side. With our arms locked about each other, we looked into each other’s eyes. I could feel his breath, warm against my cheek. Fine beads of sweat glistened on his brow, just below the jagged-looking scar, which now seemed to be fading in the dim light. My racing heart was still thumping in my chest and I felt breathless and warm all over. The music still played gently in the background, in some way soothing us now. Part of me half expected Vincent to jump up now, put his clothes back on, and leave. That’s what usually happened with the others.

“Aren’t you going to leave now?” I whispered.

“Why would I want to leave when everything I want is right here in this room?” he whispered back, brushing a stray strand of my hair from my face. It was like he didn’t want anything to cover the view that he had of me. He wanted to see me completely.

“Did you mean what you said?” I asked him.

“I’m not going to leave you,” he smiled.

“I didn’t mean that,” I said, looking straight into his eyes, searching them for the truth.

“What then?” he asked.

“When you said you loved me?”

“I love you, Sydney Hart,” he whispered, leaning forward and planting a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“But how is that possible?” I said, just above a whisper. “People don’t fall in love just like that, do they?”

“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve never been in love before.”

“So how, then, do you know its love you feel?” I asked, not really questioning his feelings, but my own.

“I’m not very good with words,” he said. “But the only way I can explain how I feel is that the thought of never seeing you...being like this with you again...hurts so much. I’ve never felt like that before and...” he trailed off.

“And?” I pushed gently.

“You’re the first person who hasn’t laughed at me...treated me like a fool because I can be awkward at times, and I know everything I say doesn’t always come out just how I meant it...you know that can hurt...”

“Why would I want to laugh at you?” I said.

“Plenty do,” he sighed. “People think I’m the fool guy – they don’t take me seriously. It’s just like being at work. Straight away I’ve been relocated to filing instead of patrol, been given the old push-bike. No one thinks I can cut being a copper so they try and hide me away, relegate me to the broom cupboard. It’s like that song People are Strange by The Doors. When you’re strange...no one remembers your name,” Vincent quoted.

To hear him talk reminded me of myself. No one had any faith in me, either. I knew how much that could hurt. I thought Vincent’s pain went deeper than just an emotional level.

Running my fingertips gently over the scars covering his shoulder, I said, “How did you get these scars?”

“Someone hurt me once,” he said, never taking his eyes from mine. “They hurt me real bad.”

“What did they do?” I breathed. “Who was it?”

“It doesn’t matter now. That life is over,” he said, holding me tighter in his arms. “I have a new life now.”