There was nothing slow or tentative about him.

Gil licked me as if he’d wake up any second. He spread my folds and plunged his tongue inside me as if he’d owned that part of me his entire life.

Every nerve ending combusted. Every cell shot down my body and gathered on my clit. And when Gil’s teeth found me, biting the nub with a thinly veiled punishment, no other part of me existed.

“Oh, God!” I squirmed as he buried his nose into me. Licking and nipping, a feral noise of ownership rumbled in the back of his throat.

His fingers clawed their way up my inner thigh, finding my heat, then driving one deep inside me.

I bowed off the floor.

His free hand landed on my belly, pressing me down as his tongue swirled and his finger hooked with pleasure. A groan clawed through his chest as he bit my clit, inhaling and sucking.

He didn’t give me time to adjust or accept.

He merely took.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His voice was thick and rich, velvet and sandpaper.

I broke out in goosebumps as his one finger became two. Both drove into me as far as they could go. His hand on my belly moved to dig under my ass, hoisting me up, pulling my pussy harder against his mouth. His tongue battled to enter me all while his fingers thrust with a possession that made everything else inconsequential.

My body responded. How could it not? My stomach twisted, heart raced, and my core invited Gil’s invasion with droplets of silky desire.

I didn’t care he was paint and dirt covered.

I didn’t care this was a terrible, terrible idea.

All I cared about was this.

“So many times,” Gil groaned as he licked at my moisture. His fingers kept stroking, sending shockwaves through every limb. “So many fucking times I wanted you.”

I panted as the mixture of me and his saliva tickled the insides of my thighs.

I couldn’t reply, too caught up in his assault.

“Olin...” Another finger joined his two, stretching me, plunging deep.

I cried in bliss as he rocked his hand, his teeth punishing my clit. My heart bucked in a frenzy; the ground didn’t feel solid anymore. All I wanted to do was fall into him, onto him.

I wanted his cock inside me.

Tugging at his shoulders, I begged, “Gil...now. I need you. Now.”

His glowing, furious eyes met mine. His mouth remained on my pussy, his fingers inside my body. Mud marked his cheekbone; a bruise shadowed his temple.

His gaze kept me captured as he arched his fingers and sucked me hard. The painful, exquisite beginnings of an orgasm brewed in my belly. It teased down my legs, throbbing around Gil’s fingers.

I bit my lip, fighting it off.

But Gil smiled savagely and drove his fingers deeper. His breathing rasped as we never looked away from each other. He looked wild and untamed, totally unhinged with sex.

And I couldn’t stop it.

I couldn’t balance on the knife’s edge. Not when he looked into me. Not with his touch inside me.

I gave in, throwing myself headfirst into the ricocheting bands of pleasure.

I cried out as it ripped me apart.

Each wave, Gil sucked me harder, thrusting his fingers, sending me higher, adding to the bliss. The power of it echoed in my teeth, stole my vision, and distorted my breath.

On the final pulse of release, Gil soared up my body. His mouth glistened from licking me, his lips swollen with heat. He kissed me, slamming my head against the floor with the force.

I kissed him back, loose and lost, swimming in the aftershocks.

“I missed you.” He kissed me deeper. “Missed you every goddamn day.”

My eyes flew wide.

I struggled away from his kiss even as his fingers drove into me again, punishing oversensitive nerves.

I searched his face, but his eyes held barriers, trapping his demons. His lips twisted as if he hadn’t meant to say such vulnerable things all while his fingers dominated me.

He kissed me again, his mouth pressing hard, bestowing sensual affection layered with dark complication.

He didn’t just kiss me.

He poured devotion and bitterness down my throat. He wrapped us in history even while smashing apart time that had distanced us.

“Why did you leave?” I whispered. The question was for a younger Olin. The one who’d been so happy and then so heartbroken by the boy who said he loved her.

The hitch of his breath sent my heart roaring and the same sort of hunger he’d attacked me with sat up nasty and needy in my veins. It didn’t matter why he left. Only that he did.

Old anger and agony rose, and my fingernails scratched down his back, grabbing the hem of his hoodie and tugging it up his body.

I trembled with the undeniable need to finish this. To have him naked and glued to me while he took everything that had always belonged to him.

“Off,” I hissed. “I need this off.”

Thoughts raced in Gil’s eyes, totally tangled and undecipherable. Why couldn’t I figure him out? Why couldn’t I learn his secrets all while he lay in my arms?

His fingers withdrew from my body as he climbed to his feet. He stood over me, his blood still swimming with liquor, his clothing still filthy. Without a word, he tore his hoodie off, removed his T-shirt, and unbuckled his jeans while kicking off his boots.

He didn’t waste time, shedding the items as if they were a hindrance he wanted to burn. His paint-speckled boots clattered by the couch as his zipper came apart and his jeans were torn from his legs.

I sat up slowly, unbuttoning my blouse with trembling fingers.

I couldn’t blink, drinking him in.

It’d been a lifetime ago that I’d seen his naked chest, and he’d filled out since then. He rippled with etches and shadows, his stomach flat and carved with ridges. He didn’t have much hair; just a splattering between his pecs and a dark line disappearing into his black boxer-briefs, but it wasn’t the perfection of his body that entranced me.

It was the wounds.

Old scars, new bruises, ancient injuries, and fresh cuts.

He looked as if he’d stepped through time and off a battlefield. His eyes matched the illusion, heavy with sorrow and hard with remorse.

My heart kicked, wanting to protect him all while wanting to bow to him.

Scrambling to my knees, I reached back and unhooked my bra. Gil sucked in a groan as I threw the lace away, revealing myself to him. He’d seen my breasts. He’d painted my nipples and airbrushed my cleavage.

Yet the way he watched me made me feel like the most powerful creature in the world.

Rubbing his mouth, he shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe this was real. His hand dropped to his cock. With a bite of his lip, he squeezed his erection, proud and encased in underwear. “I’ve dreamt of this, did you know that? Fantasied about fucking you so many times.”

I didn’t move, panting as his thumbs hooked into his boxer-briefs and pulled them down.

His mouth lined with regret. “I’ve had nightmares of losing you...hating myself for walking away.”

My body broke out in hot desire. “You didn’t need to walk away.”

“I did.” He hung his head as his cock sprang free, hard and long.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re together now.”

“There can’t be an us.” His voice twisted. “I shouldn’t do this. I should fucking have the strength not to do this.”

“Maybe you’re right.” I swallowed. “But you don’t have a choice. We don’t have a choice.” Another orgasm spindled, heated and wet, just at the sight of Gil stripping. His unwanted boxers slid to his ankles, only to be kicked away to join his boots and socks.

For the longest moment, he didn’t move. As if afraid I’d judge him, not want him.

Terror filled me that he’d stop this. That whatever freedom he’d found thanks to alcohol wasn’t enough for us to finish this.

But then, he closed the distance between us. Two swift, determined strides even as condemnation sketched his face. “Fuck, I want you.” He ducked and captured my cheeks, kissing me.