Sweetest Venom
Page 77

 Mia Asher

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Our eyes remain locked as I remove his hands gently from my face and begin to shower them with slow, revering kisses. Please forgive me. Kiss. It’s always been you. Kiss. Can you feel it? Kiss. Come back to me. Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Defeated, Ronan groans and pulls me in a tight embrace, and it feels like I’ve finally come home. Our time apart melts into a meaningless nothing.
“Tell me that you want me to go,” he pleads, his voice hoarse with emotion.
“I can’t.” I pull him closer to me. “Not that.”
“Why not?” The words are torn from his chest.
“Because I can’t lie to you.” I raise my eyes to look at him, offering myself to him. “You cruel man, I don’t want you to leave me.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
“Undress.”
He stands by the foot of the bed as I take off my clothes, watching me remove every layer that covers my body. Hesitant and nervous, I feel like we’re back in my bedroom about to make love for the first time on that never-forgotten lovely summer evening. By the time I’m completely naked, he undresses as well and comes to stand in front of me.
“Lie on the bed.”
His voice suddenly so devoid of emotion sends a chill running down my spine, but I ignore it. My desire to make him understand that I am his and only his blinds me to everything, even the odd light flashing in his gaze.
When I’m lying on the bed, he moves to stand between my legs, grabs me by the hips, dragging me forward so my feet touch the floor, and spreads my thighs apart. It’s crude and detached. Part of me knows that he’s punishing me for what I’ve done to him, so I let him and hope that this is what he must do before he can forgive me. Without preparing me for his invasion, Ronan pushes forward until he’s deep inside me. I cry out in pain while losing my mind in the sweetest agony of feeling him inside me after so long, of being this close once again. Breathing heavily, he stops all movement as a tremor runs down his entire body. The anger edged on his face should scare me, but all that matters, all I care is giving myself to Ronan.
His chest rises and falls in a labored rhythm while his arms tremble as he holds himself above me. “Blaire, I—” his voice breaks.
“Shh …” I reach for him, enveloping him in my arms, and pull him toward me until our bodies become one, willing my love for him to show him the way back to me.
“I love you, Ronan.”
He tries to pull away from me then, but I don’t let him. “Don’t,” he murmurs harshly. “Don’t say that.”
We struggle but I continue to hold onto him as though my whole life depends on this moment, feeling every muscle in his body shake like a rolling earthquake under my hands. “I love you,” I repeat. I caress his skin, showering him with kisses as I try to make him understand with my touch what he won’t accept with my words. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
The fight gone out of him, Ronan finally gives into me. And when he does, it is a storm full of thunder and wind and rain. It shakes. It vibrates. It rumbles deep within us. Howling …
Breaking …
Healing …
Tearing us both apart so our kisses, our shared breaths, the feel of him moving deep inside me, and his heart beating against mine can put us back together for every month, and every week, and every day, and every hour, and every minute, and every second that we weren’t together. It’s the holy communion of our bodies.
“Please forgive me, Ronan.” I pull him closer to me, tightening my legs around his waist, trying to swallow him into my body, fuse his soul with mine, but it’s not close enough. It will never be. He begins to pound into me.