The Heartbreaker of Echo Pass by Maisey Yates

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THEYHADSPENTthe whole day together. He had kissed her twice. Iris felt... Strange. Everything that was happening between them seemed so... Well, not like what they had talked about yesterday. But then, he had met her family and they had gone their separate ways last night, and today he was... Well, he was being wonderful. She couldn’t deny that. She never had anyone take the care that he was doing with her. But there was something about it that made her feel uncomfortable. Deeply so.

But then, the entirety of the last few months had been a study in discomfort. Maybe the last year. All the changes that were happening around her were intense, had jolted her out of her sense of purpose. And this bakery had brought it back. And to an extent, she had felt some of that with Griffin. Going to his house, cleaning. Bringing him food. It had been clear to her that he had been in some sort of depression for some time. But now he was here, and he was doing all of this for her, and... He was right. She was more uncomfortable with him being nice to her than she was with him trying to scare her down his mountain.

They were...friends. And that made things feel a little sharper. A little harder. But the friendship didn’t change things. Not really.

“It’s opening tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll put the sign out on the street, and then... It will be open. And then we’ll have a grand opening in a couple of days and... I can’t believe it.”

“You’ve done amazing work, Iris,” he said. “Really amazing. I think your parents would’ve been proud.”

Something in her shifted. She pushed that compliment away.

She found while she was in the kitchen that he had placed a dinner order at Bellissima, the Italian restaurant down the street, and then he went to pick it up, brought it back and set it out on the table in the bakery.

And it was making her heart feel like it was too large for her chest, all these small, sweet things that came together to create something wholly new, something she was completely unprepared for. The pasta that he’d ordered was delicious, but she had such a hard time taking it. Such a hard time feeling like he was just giving all of this to her. And it was weird, because she never contended with this feeling before. She was used to being part of a family, where she did a certain amount of caregiving. And it wasn’t as if nobody gave anything back to her.

But it was...communal.

They shared.

Today had been focused on her with an intense kind of laser quality, and she didn’t know what to do with it.

And she was afraid, so very afraid that he was just going to leave her there again when the meal was over. So afraid that, when she still had half a plate of food left, she reached across the table and grabbed his hand. And it reminded her of lying by the river with him. Because she realized it was the only time they’d held hands. When they’d been naked and basking in the aftermath of a climax.

But for some reason it felt different now.

Then, he’d been this man that she’d only known in the context of his hermitage. And now, he... He’d come down and he’d done all these things for her. He’d shared with her. Opened himself up. Not just about his deep dark tragedy, but about things that he liked. About what he thought of her. She’d seen him talk to her sisters, and to her brothers-in-law. He’d eaten pink frosted sugar cookies next to her, and had built her flower boxes, and there was something about holding hands with him now that felt infinitely more complicated. Like they were holding something heavy and precious in their hands, and she wasn’t sure she liked it at all.

His gaze was electric on hers. Far too sharp.

“I’m not leaving you tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh. I... I was.”

He stood, and got down on his knees so that he was eye level with her, where she was sitting. “Iris,” he said, his voice rough as he dragged his thumb over her cheekbone. “I just wanted to make sure you knew... You’re more than me just enjoying pleasure after a long time of going without. I needed to make sure you knew that. This isn’t just me needing sex. Granted, I like it, don’t get me wrong. You’re more than that. You matter. You could’ve sent a hundred different women up the hill before you, and they wouldn’t have moved me at all. It was you. And you need to know that. Not my isolation. Not my sadness, my grief, my boredom. Not my ability to fashion you into someone else when I’m holding you in my arms, because I’m not doing that. It’s you. I couldn’t quite figure out why I didn’t stay last night, not until I realized I wanted to build those flower boxes for you. But I realized it was about you.”

Her chest felt full, like it might burst open, and she did the only thing she could think to do. She launched herself forward out of her chair, and into his arms, kissing him. Deep and hard. Kissing him with every ounce of that unknowable emotion inside of her. Because it made her feel... Something. Made her feel better. Made her feel more like she could breathe. Because all of his words felt sharp and barbed, but his lips were firm and soft and magic all at once, and she was utterly and completely captivated by him.

By this.

So, she kissed him, because she didn’t have words. And she didn’t want his. Kissed him until she realized that even though they had blinds half drawn, they were visible to anyone who might be walking by, even though there wouldn’t be anyone walking by at this hour.

“Upstairs?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

She didn’t worry about the food, they would get that handled tomorrow morning. Right now, she just wanted him. Just needed him. Craved him.

Because this was clear. And this was sure. And she understood that he thought maybe he was... Devaluing her if he reduced it to sex, but this wasn’t reduced to anything, not for her. It was big and magical and powerful, comforting. Because she didn’t have to know answers. She didn’t have to figure out what she could do to bring him pleasure, it just brought both of them pleasure. And that felt easy. And she desperately wanted easy. Because who would have ever thought that an entire day spent with someone doing nice things for you could feel so hard. Only that it did.

He picked her up. Like she weighed nothing. Like she wasn’t any trouble or a burden at all, holding her against his broad chest as he walked her through the bakery, and up the stairs. When he got her inside, she abruptly flashed back to that night. To their first kiss. The night that he’d rejected her. She felt like they lived so many lifetimes since then. So many versions of themselves, stripped back and revealed. She hadn’t known then what she knew now. Hadn’t known about the pain that he carried around. And thinking about that spurred her on. She wanted to give to him. Wanted to thank him for everything that he’d done today. She pushed his shirt up, revealing his body. The hard ridge of his abdomen, his broad chest and shoulders. He was so beautiful. Impossibly so.

Like a gift she could never hope to earn.

He shifted, and those muscles flexed and bunched, and she felt an answering clinch echo inside of her body. Then his hands moved to the buckle on his jeans, and she helped him. As he undid his pants, she dropped down to her knees, started to pull at his boots and socks, and then tugging his jeans down all the way. He was so large and hard. So incredibly beautiful. His naked body was a work of art, and one that she would never tire of seeing. And she had never done this before, but she wanted to.

Yes, she wanted to an awful lot. She stretched up, curving her fingers around his hardness, testing the weight and strength of him.

Then she leaned in, flicking her tongue cautiously across that vulnerable skin. He tasted salty and musky, and there was something about it that made her whole body tighten with desire. It was so intimate. To taste him like this. And he was beautiful. A fantasy brought to life. She put her hand on his hip, traced the deep groove that ran from the bone there down to his thigh, bracketing the most masculine part of him. And then she took him in deep. His large hand came up and cupped the back of her head, forking through her hair. He tugged lightly, the pain sending sparks showering down through her body. It was amazing how she wanted him. Amazing the way that pleasing him ramped up her own pleasure. And she put everything into it.

For the flower boxes. For the day. For just being him. For the way that he was. He had said all those wonderful things to her. Amazing things about how she was special. And she didn’t know how to respond in kind. Didn’t know what to do or say. And didn’t even know how to say thank-you for that. So she just put it all here. She showed him. Because it was all she knew how to do. It made her feel vulnerable. To want him to feel her gratitude so much. It made her feel vulnerable that he might know how much he mattered.

She didn’t know why. Except it made her feel like she was bleeding inside. And all she could do to try to banish it was close her eyes and keep pleasuring him. His groans of desire created a deep satisfaction inside of her. Deep and wonderful.

He started to shiver. Started to shake. And then he pulled her away from him.

“Not like this,” he said, his voice rough.

“Why not?”

“I want you. Too much. I want to be inside of you.”

That harsh, guttural admission echoed inside of her, sent a thrill of pleasure through her body. He wanted her. He really wanted her. He was past the point of reason. Past the point of speaking words clearly, and it was because of her. It was because of what she had made him feel. And there was something so deeply wonderful and comforting about that something that made her feel... Fulfilled. It was beyond pleasure. It was somewhere at the center of what she was. Need. Deep and real, blooming inside of her. Inside of everything that she was. He carried her over to the sofa in the big, open space, and set her on the end of it. She was still dressed. Wearing the same floral dress that she’d had on the entire day. He reached beneath her skirt and yanked her panties down, finding her slick and ready for him. She would have been embarrassed, this display of how much she wanted him so obviously written in her body, except that he wanted her just as badly. That he was held just as captive to it as she was. Then he ducked his head beneath her skirt, tasting her.

She tried to push him away, because this wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want him to make it equal. But then, his mouth was back on her, and she couldn’t do anything to deny him. Couldn’t do anything to turn him away. Because she was lost in it. In him. And she forgot that she needed him to need her. And slipped into something more. Something deeper. This shared desire that wove a tapestry of sensation in her body. He pushed her higher, further, until she was gasping for pleasure. For release. He brought her to the edge. Over and over again, only to deny her.

This man.

This man who wanted her. Who craved her.

This man.

If she could just focus on what he gave her, on what they could give each other in moments like these. If she could just not want any more than this.

She hadn’t known. She hadn’t known that it could be like this. Not sex. She hadn’t thought enough about it to make assumptions, not ones that went this deep. She hadn’t known that connecting to another person could be like this. She hadn’t known that there were things in life like this. That were intense because they were terrifying and yet, filled with joy for the same reason. That were bright and bold, frightening and inevitable. That were good and sharp and painful all at once.

She had known pain. Bright, white-hot grief that had defined her. Who she was, and the way that people saw her. The way that she saw herself. But she hadn’t known that good could come with quite so much danger. She hadn’t known that the capacity for feeling existed inside a human body, not on this level. She just hadn’t known. She felt a fool, really. Small and silly. For thinking that she might have been able to control something like this. For thinking she might have been able to know. She didn’t know anything.

She didn’t know anything at all.

He still wouldn’t let her break. He wouldn’t let her break, and she was suspended, in a world of fantasy and desire, of pain.

But he just kept bringing her higher, his hands, his lips, everything working together to create an intense, unending need inside of her. It was magic. But it was a black magic.

Finally, he positioned himself at the entrance of her body, and when he thrust inside of her, she broke. Stars burst behind her eyes, the night sky shattering and falling around her, pieces of endless glass pleasure embedding themselves inside of her.

Sharp and sweet.

Nothing half so simple as pure sweetness.

But nothing was good when it was too sweet. That was the problem. There had to be something else with it. It had to have another side.

It was just the way of it. It was just the way. His claiming of his own desire was fierce, his fingers digging into her body as he chased his own release. The raw, guttural growl that he let out as he slammed into her one last time, as he spilled himself in her, created another ripple inside of her. A second release on the heels of one she would have said would have been it. All she could handle. All she could take.

And when it was over, he picked her up off the couch, carried her across the room, and to her bed. This was a new room, so she didn’t have a host of memories stored up in it, but she had brought her bed and bedding over, even though there had been one there already, which she had used a couple of times. Ultimately, she had preferred her own. And being with a man, on that familiar quilt... It was a whole strange thing.

He pushed the blankets back, guided her beneath them and lay down beside her. Then he wrapped her up in his arms.

They were going to sleep together.

They had done that at his place. But that had been... It had been so different. Spontaneous. And everything between them had been a storm. There had been a lot of anger. A lot of sadness. This had been different. She hadn’t felt those same barriers. That same sense of trauma. Where they had both been bleeding out some kind of darkness, trying to soothe the other.

She ignored the hitch in her chest that reminded her it wasn’t like she’d been without her own darkness tonight.

It wasn’t. It was true. But they were here now. And he wanted her.

She could... She could help him. He’d said so.

As he walked on this path trying to figure out being human again. And she would. She would be there for him. She would be exactly what he needed.

She let her mind go blank at that thought. Let herself take in nothing more than the scent of his skin, the sound of his slow, steady breathing.

Tomorrow, her new life started.