Lies in Blood (Dark Secrets #4)(40)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“I can’t promise you forever, Ara. You know that.”

“Then at least make it last until the dawn.”

“That,” he said with a slowly shaping grin. “I can promise.”

I leaned back a little and took all of him in: he looked magnificent as king, as if he’d grown an inch taller since he was sworn in and maybe even jumped a few points on the sex-appeal-o-meter. The stubble tracing his jawline had grown in over the day, shadowing his face like immortality’s version of a Calvin Klein model. The white shirt he was wearing had been sewn from a fabric so soft it was almost a part of his body, falling over the contours of his chest like skin, leaving all the warmth on the surface as if he were naked already. I felt him under my hand, his chest moulding the cup of palm, the shirt parting at the buttons, inviting my fingertips inside.

David smoothed the tip of his thumb from just under my earlobe and down my throat, his lips softly pushing my nightdress off my shoulder a little. “I still can’t believe how well I know every inch of you.”

Gravity drew the fabric down the step he hadn’t, and my skin fell open to the warm summer night as the top of the dress bunched around my elbows, leaving everything from my hips upward exposed and tingling slightly with little bumps. Both his hands trailed firmly down my back, following its shape like a hand tracing a distant skyline of smooth rolling hills. I held my breath, afraid to breathe a moment of this realness. My hand sat against his chest, his body solid and alive beneath it, yet my mind floated along the memory of the first time I saw him smile—the gentle half-turn of his lip, the way he’d hide the thoughts he could hear, trying so hard not to give anything away about how they made him feel. I saw him as that boy I sat beside at the piano on my first day of school, felt the ache rise from my gut to my chest, knowing I could never go back. All that was gone. And those memories were all I’d have left soon, never to make any more.

When I looked up, the hold of his round, black eyes on mine nearly burned a hole in me, his tears clouding them, so restrained I just wanted to cry for him. But he blinked and they slipped past his lashes, falling eternally away to the land of forgotten things. In this moment, we were here, alive, and one day, he’d be gone. I’d stand here in this memory, touching the air as if I could feel him there, but I’d only be able to imagine what it felt like once to know his warmth, to feel the way his hands moved over my body in ways I couldn’t even dream up. And I knew he felt every breath of my pain as he read the thoughts that provoked it.

“I’ll never be far away, Ara.” He drew me closer by the small of my back, and as my hands dropped to my sides, the nightgown slipped past, falling at our feet. “I’ll leave a part of myself behind in you.”

“And every time I look at her, I’ll die a little more.”

“No, you won’t.” He kissed my hair. “You’ll know what it feels like to love again.”

I stood on my toes, reaching up to cup my hands behind his neck, our lips connecting a breath later. But the kiss only broke my heart—the supple warmth of his lips, so lovingly wrapped up in mine, were so exquisite in their hold that the only emotion they could possibly convey was love: unending, unconditional love. The kind of love I would never have again.

I angled my chin so I could feel the slight prickle of his stubble, a feeling that always made him real, present—one I could always find when I closed my eyes, even if he wasn’t here. Every breath of that kiss would become a moment locked away—stored for the day it would only be something I opened at night, when I lay in bed with my eyes closed—our forever lived in a series of events that already happened.

“But we have tonight,” he said, waking me from my thought with a firm hand cupping my cheek. “My love, don’t go there. Just be here, in this moment, with me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

David’s hands went under my bottom, prompting me to jump up and wrap my legs around his hips. He carried me slowly to the bed, falling down on top of me; the sheets and pillows rising up like clouds around us. I felt the softness of them under my bare skin, each tiny inch tingling as if this was the first touch. And David’s mouth found mine again, the sweet kisses growing with the desire heating his blood, his hand folding around my breast, smoothing a path for his lips to follow.

“There are so many things we’ve never done,” he said under the kiss. “So many I planned to do right now, but—” He leaned back and smiled down at me. “Tonight, I think I just wanna love you.”

Those words rushed into my heart, taking the thoughts and desires he showed me earlier, and tossing them aside. All I wanted now was to feel his bare chest pressed to mine, his hands on my hips, our bodies connected closer than humanly, or immortally possible.

“Okay.” I guided him gently backward and rolled onto my knees, sweeping his shirt up his waist. “Then we need you naked.”

“You read my mind.” He tossed his shirt aside and brought his arms back down to his sides—his ribs expanding, showing the skeleton beneath.

“You’re so thin now, David.” I cupped his ribs with both hands and kissed the hollow between his breastbones.

“That happens when you’re stressed about leaving the love of your life.”

I stopped kissing and just rested my brow against his soft belly for a moment, feeling my hair sweep off my face under David’s fingertips.

“Don’t be sad, my love. Remember? Tonight isn’t about the future.”

“It’s pretty hard to ignore.”

“I don’t know.” I heard a smile shape his words. “I think I can take your mind off it.”

I laughed breathily and, with tears wetting my lips, began my important task of kissing every inch of his skin from his ribs to his jeans again. As I reached his belly button, he drew his stomach in, trying not laugh. “Does that tickle?” I asked.

“Yes, but don’t stop.” He smoothed both thumbs down my head, resting his fingertips gently to the base of my skull, and I felt him grow harder near my throat—pushing against the zipper of his jeans.

I could smell him, almost taste him—the sweet chocolate mixed with the familiar but very slight scent of the day’s sweat. He’d never let me get this close before, never opened himself up this way. It was as if there were no walls between us now; we were finally free to explore all those things we’d been afraid to share. He’d even stopped waxing all his hair off, his chest now sprouting a few hairs around his ni**les—my tongue noticing the fine trail from his navel downward.