Wreck Me (Nova #4)(87)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

My breath hitches in my throat at the sight of the tattoo I’ve begged to see for months.

Branches of a half dead, half flourishing tree span from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. The elaborate tree trunk sketches the length of her spine, dark ink embedded into her skin and surrounded by tons of pale, jagged scars. On the blossoming side of the tree is an inscription.

Carry me away.

To where I can breathe.

To where my soul can thrive again.

To where I can be free.

To where I can live again.

Give me life.

The ability to span my wings.

And fly.

Not fall.

I never want to fall again.

So help me survive.

Allow me to flourish.

And then let me forgive.

The second I finish reading it, I know there’s no going back. I’m completely captivated by Avery. I might even love her. I’m not even afraid to admit that to myself.

I wonder if I’m starting to understand the meaning of life, so I do the only thing I can do.

I kiss her.

Chapter 37

The stars are fading.

Avery

Showing him my scars was difficult, but telling my story was nearly unbearable. Still, I managed to do it and feel lighter because of it.

Maybe even weightless.

I feel extremely content as Tristan and I settle in the sand with a jacket spread out below us while we share a passionate kiss. His sturdy body is covering mine, his heat blanketing me with safeness. His fingers circle my wrist before he pins my arms above my head as our hips align. I can’t stop thinking about what he’s said, how he’s never been in a relationship and how I’m the only girl he’s been with that he wanted. The agony in his expression when he said it makes me want to erase the ache inside him.

I abruptly pull away from his mouth and slip my arms from his hold, leaving him panting as I scoot out from under him.

“What are you doing?” he asks breathless, turning around and sitting up on the jacket.

I hitch my leg over him and straddle his lap. “Something.”

He watches me through hooded eyes as I explore his muscles and tats with my fingertips. When I reach his side, though, I pause as I feel a lightly raised bump.

“What is this?” I ask, leaning down to inspect it closer.

He shrugs indifferently. “Just a scar.”

I gape at him. “Is it from that night?”

He lifts a shoulder and shrugs again. “It’s not that big of a deal, Avery. It could have been worse… way, way worse than me ending up with a tiny scar.”

I shake my head, awestruck. “It is a big deal. You took a knife for me.”

“It’s what anyone would have done.”

I lightly comb through the long strands of my hair. “No, it is a huge deal. I’ve had a knife taken to me more than once and no one stopped it, not even myself.”

His body stiffens underneath me. “Is…?” He cups the side of my neck and his thumb delicately brushes across the hollow of my throat. “Is that what this is from? Or was it from the fire?”

I swallow hard, knowing he can feel the movement of my throat. “It was from Conner.”

“Avery… I can’t stand the thought of how bad he hurt you. It’s haunted me ever since the first day I met you.”

“I know. It haunts me too, but there’s not much I can do about it.”

“I wish there was something I could do.” His fingertips rest above my racing pulse. “Honestly, part of me wants to kill him.”

“Those are some deep words.” My voice is uneven along with my heartbeat.

“But I mean them.” His fingertips drift down the curve of my neck. “I’ve felt that way since the first day I met you.” His thumb softly strokes the scar one more time before he pulls me toward him and entices me toward his lips.

We start kissing again, my body erupting with heat as he lies back down, wraps his arms around me, and brings me with him. I get lost in every deep stroke of his tongue, the irresistible taste of his lips, the overwhelming rock of his hips. My hands wander all over him, down the front of his carved chest, across his taut stomach, to the top of his jeans. His breathing quickens as I undo the button and then drag down the zipper. He immediately starts to protest, but the words get stuck in his throat as my fingers dip down and brush against his swollen cock.

“Jesus,” he gasps, his mouth leaving mine as his head tips back and his eyes drift shut. “That feels so good.”

My pulse slams with eagerness as my hand moves up and down and I watch him in wonder. The way his neck muscles move every time he moans my name… the way his lips part when he gasps… the way his chest rises and falls as he struggles to hold on. Finally, his hands find my waist, grasping me as he flips me over on my back.

Warm skin grazes against my scars as my back sinks deeper into the sand. Things grow more heated as he unhooks the clasp of my swimsuit top, and then his mouth covers my nipple. If I thought his fingers were amazing, it’s nothing compared to his tongue.

I groan as I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, my back arching up from the ground. “God, that feels so good…”

His tongue traces circles as he sucks and gently bites my sensitive flesh. Then giving one last gentle tug, his lips find mine again. Nothing else matters at that moment as our chests crash together, our rapid breathing matching as we kiss the life from each other.

I drown in the way he makes me feel, although not in a helpless way. No, I feel safe. Cared for. Tristan has protected me. Has been there for me. Has taken a knife for me. I feel so at peace.

Maybe even in love.

Suddenly, I lean back and push Tristan away.

“What are you doing?” he asks, breathless, his eyes glazed over as he stares down at me in confusion.

Without answering, I slip my shorts down and lie naked before him in the sand. It’s my first time since that God awful day, but I feel the exact opposite. I’m not scared, ready for it to end. In fact, I want it to last a very long time, which maybe it will. Or it won’t. I can’t be sure. That’s the thing. I can’t be sure about anything really, but shutting down and putting walls up is a lonely life to live.

I don’t want to be lonely anymore.

I want him.

“Kiss me,” I say as I reach for him.

He willingly returns to me, the kiss smoldering with passion and heat. Minutes later, both of our clothes are stripped off, and he’s hovering over me with a condom on, ready to slip inside me.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as he supports his weight with his arms. He’s breathing profusely, like his lungs can’t keep up with his breaths “Because I can wait—”