Breathe Her In Page 12

  Rafe’s face goes white when I unfold it. “You still have that?”

  “I have everything you ever gave me.” I point to the cluster of wildflowers in the drawing that he put in my locker, all those years ago. “Put these on me. Cover my ugly with this.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s still my favorite place in the whole world.” He smiles through my next thought. “It might help with the hurt.”

  His strong hands move from the sides of my neck and slide into my hair, his deep eyes piercing mine. “I’ll do anything I can to get rid of your pain. I meant everything I told you last night. I love you. I never stopped, even when we were apart. Jesus, Eleanor, I love you so much, sometimes it’s hard for me to breathe. Eventually, when I got myself out of all this mess, I was gonna come for you.”

  I cast my eyes down and pick at my bedding. “Sometimes, I hated you for leaving me. It never lasted long, though… mere seconds. The love always bled through, pushing the hate away.” I force myself to look back up at him. “I wanted to find you, Rafe, but I was so scared that you would hate me when you found out what happened. I was terrified that your hate would be too strong for the love to bleed through.”

  He shakes his head. “Never. I could never hate you, not even for one second.” He kisses my forehead and changes the subject. It’s too early for all this heavy. “Let me feed you so I can put some ink on you.”

  15. Rafe

  If I let her out of my sight, if I don’t have her hand in mine or my arm around her waist, I’m terrified she’s going to be taken from me again. There are so many different emotions whipping through my head right now; it’s like a fucking tornado in there. I can’t process any of it… I just know that I need to get a grip.

  Sleep never really came last night. I held tight to Eleanor, listened to her soft breaths, wrapped my arms tighter when her whimpers and cries came, and replayed her words over in my mind. I never knew that I wanted a child until Della became mine. As hard as it is, I can’t imagine my life without being a father to Dells. The prospect of having a child with Eleanor is completely overwhelming. To have that taken away from me is one of the cruelest hands I’ve ever been dealt. Out of every shitty thing that’s ever happened to me, from the abuse to the arrests to the lack of a decent mother, finding out about the loss of my son or daughter is by far the worst.

  But I have Della, Eleanor is back in my life, and we’re going to make the best of it. We’re going to make this work this time. I’ll make damn sure we’re never apart again.

  She steps into the bedroom, wrapped in a tiny towel, and my heart gets stuck in my throat, all the blood in my body heading south.

  “What should I wear for this?” she asks. Only Eleanor Benson would be asking about wardrobe choices when going to get ink.

  “Rafe?”

  I can’t answer. My eyes are trailing the few drops of water that the towel didn’t catch, following them drip down her chest until they disappear into the top of the tiny towel.

  Fuck, I’m jealous of water.

  “Come here.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Eleanor. Come here.”

  Her steps are painfully slow, but her chest is rising and falling fast. I’m just waiting for the scrap of material to fall to the ground.

  “I need to get dressed,” she whispers.

  “I need you to get over here.”

  She clutches the top of the wrap and closes the space between us. I’m on the edge of her bed, legs splayed wide, and she steps between them. My hands go to her waist, pulling her close. She smiles when I get her in my arms, so I give her a little tug and she’s on my thigh, her face mere inches from mine.

  “You really wanna do this?”

  She bites the corner of her lip. “This, or the tattoo?” she asks, a blush creeping up her neck and spreading across her beautiful face.

  “I was talking about the tat, but let’s go with this.” My hand moves from around her small waist to the top of the towel, resting over where she’s got it tucked in tight. I can feel her heart pounding against my fingers.

  Eleanor’s forehead falls against mine, putting her lips that much closer to where I want them to be. “I haven’t,” she starts, but then stops, shaking her head slightly against mine, pulling in a few shaky breaths.

  “You haven’t what?” I prompt.

  She pulls back just enough to look in my eyes. Taking my face in her hands, she whispers, “I haven’t been with anyone since you, Rafe.”

  I shut my eyes and close the gap between us. Her breath hitches, my heart pounds, but I don’t kiss her yet. Our lips are so close, so close, but I don’t do it yet.

  “Rafe,” she says in that way that only Eleanor can do, and the need to kiss her is more overwhelming than the need to pull in my next breath.

  She clutches my shoulders, bracing for fast and hard, but I give her soft, slow, and sweet. I want to taste her, feel her, savor her, and I need to go slow to do that. My lips pull her bottom one in, sucking and teasing. Her whimpers are killing me, but we’ve got all the time in the world, and I’m taking it.

  We’ve kissed dozens of times since I’ve been back, but this one feels different. There’s nothing between us. No secrets, no lies, nothing to hide. Eleanor pushes her tongue into my mouth, moving it against mine in a lazy dance, and I decide I don’t want this towel between us either.

  “Take this off,” I mutter into her mouth, pushing my fingers into the top of the towel. One flick and I could have it off, but I don’t want to do it if she’s not ready. I don’t want to think about what she had to endure at the hands of those monsters who attacked her, but they might be the reason she hasn’t been with anyone since me.

  Never pulling her mouth away, she moves her hands away from my face and opens the towel. She pushes herself further into me, but I need to see her.

  It’s been too damn long since I’ve seen her.

  Planting one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders, I roll us until she’s on the bed and I’m hovering over us. Her wide eyes are roving over my body, distracting me from taking her in.

  “Your turn,” she says, bringing her hands up to the hem of my shirt. Her hands sear a hot trail up my chest, pulling the shirt up with them, and get it over my head. As much as I want to get back down on that bed with her, I need to stay up here and get a good look at her.

  “Christ,” I mutter, letting my eyes rake over every inch of her body. She’s utter perfection. Her trembling hands move to cover her scars but I take them in mine, kiss her wrists, and pin them to her sides. “Don’t. I want to see you.”

  Her back arches slightly off the bed, a silent plea for my mouth, my hands, anything. She wants me to touch her. She’s ready to play. I can see it written across her angelic face, gleaming in her eyes.

  I drag her hands from her sides to above her head and circle both of her wrists in one of my hands. “I don’t know if I want to start here,” I whisper, swiping my free hand along her nipple, “or here.” I give her a squeeze and let my fingers wander down between her legs, where I find her soaked for me.

  She brings her mouth up to mine but doesn’t make contact. “You’ve got two hands and a mouth for a reason, Rafe. Use them.” Her breath catches when my whole body stiffens.

  “You talk to that fuckwad Tristan like that?”

  Her face turns white. “No. I told you that I haven’t…”

  “I know what you told me, but you’re naked underneath me and we’re not doin’ anything, either.” I grind my hips against her and she gasps. “Answer me. You talk to him like that? Tell him to use his mouth and hands on you?”

  “God, no. Only you, Rafe. It’s always only been you.”

  Our mouths collide and a fire ignites, fueling the flames that were already slowly building. I let go of her wrists and she’s pulling at my pants, desperate to get the only piece of clothing off that’s keeping us from being together. “Get them off, Rafe,” sh
e moans into my mouth. “Please.”

  I manage to pull myself up for a few seconds so the jeans can come off. She tugs me back down on the bed, her tongue and lips exploring all the flesh they can get to.

  “Eleanor,” I call, but she feels so damn good that I can’t even form a coherent thought. I slip my arms under hers and haul her up. “Baby, come here.”

  She kisses her way up my chest until she’s lying on top of me. Now isn’t when I wanted to have this conversation, but it’s gotta be said. “I wasn’t a saint while we were apart, but I was always safe. I’m clean.” I can see the hurt behind her eyes and it guts me. “I’m sorry, baby. Never in my wildest dreams did I think we’d be here like this.”

  Her dark eyes slowly close and a lone tear rolls down one cheek. I wipe it away and kiss her softly. “I love you, Eleanor. If I could take it back, I would.”

  “I know.” Her eyes flutter open and she gives me one of her breathtaking smiles. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m so tired of crying.” She buries her hands in my hair and moves in closer. “Make love to me Rafe.”

  I let her stay on top of me and have control for a bit longer, but when her pleas and cries become more demanding, I flip us over and press her into the mattress. There’s not an inch of her blazing skin that I don’t taste. Eleanor lights up under my touch. She’s writhing against the sheets, clutching to them like a life line, moaning my name while my fingers and tongue work between her thighs. Her begging is torture, but I’ll be damned if I don’t make this the best orgasm of her life.

  It hits her hard, the waves pulsing through her body, my name coming from her mouth, part cry and part prayer. It’s the sweetest fucking sound I’ve ever heard.

  Her nails piercing into my shoulder is all the invitation I need. I push into her tight, wet body and she bucks her hips, taking me further inside. My hand digs into the flesh at her hip to still her movements. “Fuck, baby, I’ve missed you. Just give me a minute.”

  “I can’t. I need you now, Rafe.”

  This might be quick, but I can’t deny her. Keeping my hand firm at her hip, my other buried in her hair, I start to move. Slow, deep thrusts have her moaning and writhing underneath me in minutes. It’s been so long since I’ve been with her, but I remember exactly what she likes, how she likes it, and how I need to move to make her explode under my touch. A shift of my hips, a change in pace, or a little bit of dirty talk whispered in her ear, and my Eleanor shoots off like a rocket.

  “You close, baby?”

  All I get is a moan in return. Her mouth is too busy at my neck to speak. I take my hand from her hip and move it down between us, rubbing slow circles against her.

  “I need you to get there, baby.” I nibble at the flesh just under her ear. “I’m about to fucking explode inside of you. I want you with me.”

  “Rafe,” she breathes out.

  My hand gets a little more aggressive. Her breaths get a little heavier. She tightens around my cock. I tilt my hips, going deeper and harder. The tiny gasps escaping let me know that she’s getting close.

  “Come for me, Eleanor.”

  “Oh, God,” she cries, right before she goes off. Both my hands move to her hips, and all it takes is a few more thrusts before I’m following right behind her, pouring myself into her, moaning her name into her shoulder. I don’t want to keep all my weight on her, but she holds on tight, wrapping her arms around my body. “Stay. I like you here.”

  I stay until I feel the need to clean her up. She blushes, but doesn’t say a word when I press a warm wash cloth between her legs and wipe her clean. “I always felt bad that I couldn’t do this before,” I tell her. “It wasn’t fair that we had to sneak around. You deserved so much better than that. You deserved so much better than me.”

  She sits up and it’s hard for me to focus. She’s so fucking beautiful. But she’s also pissed. “We’re not doing this. You’re not allowed to tell me that I don’t deserve you, Rafe Matthews. We’ve got to stop with the self-deprecation and doubt. Understand?”

  I want to laugh, but I don’t. I love when she gets wound up. “Yes ma’am.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I’m serious.”

  “Me, too.”

  Those eyes of hers grow soft, and I brace for the sweetness she’s about to hand me. It doesn’t come out quite like I expect.

  “We said a lot last night. I don’t know if I ever came out and just said it, but I love you. I know you love me, so stop with all the other bullshit.”

  I kiss the sass right out of her. It’s long, deep, and perfect. “That’s the strangest admission of love I’ve ever heard, but I’ll take it. Now, if we don’t leave this bed now, I might keep you here forever.” I let my hands wander down to her tangled mess of scars. “You still want some ink?”

  She bites her lip and nods. The sadness that clouds over her eyes pierces my heart. I want to take it from her. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to destroy it and replace it with so much happiness that it’ll be bleeding out of her. Someone like Eleanor Benson should never be touched by that kind of sadness and pain. She only deserves goodness and happiness.

  “Well, my sweet Eleanor, let me do that for you.”

  16. Eleanor

  Much later than I expected, we walk through the doors at Ink Addiction and Rafe leads me to the back. He barely let me out of his sight, or his arms for that matter, once we finally managed to get out of my bed. Now that he’s got me back, I don’t think he has any intentions of letting me go. I’m perfectly fine with that decision. As hard as it was to let everything out last night, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my chest. The pain is still there, but it’s a dull throb now, not an all-consuming ache that threatens to pull me under if I succumb to it. I’m slowly letting go of the guilt. Sharing what happened with Rafe was a good decision. He’ll help me work through it.

  He’ll heal me.

  We’ll heal each other.

  My eyes are drawn to a piece on the wall. I expected his workspace to be covered with pictures of the tattoos he’s done, but it’s not. Beautiful oil paintings and charcoal sketches are hung along the otherwise white space. My eyes dart from one to another. They can’t quite settle on once piece long enough to appreciate it- the work is beautiful and I want to take it all in. I spot a canvas in the corner that bears a striking resemblance to the ink he’s about to put on my body and I realize this is all his.

  “This is yours?” I ask, my voice laced with wonderment and awe.

  “Yeah,” he answers, never taking his eyes off the tools he’s cleaning.

  “Rafe, I had no idea you were this talented. I’m extremely impressed.”

  His dark eyes move from his tray to me and his mouth curves up slightly in one corner. “Thanks.”

  “Seriously. I love them all. Where did you learn to do this?”

  Rafe’s eyes shoot down to his equipment before his entire body stiffens. “Finn taught me about art over the years. He helped me tap into my raw talent.” He drops his voice. “I had a lot of time on my hands when I was locked up. I needed a way to keep my mind occupied and keep myself out of trouble.”

  My heart breaks for him. “Was it bad?”

  “Not as bad as what you had to go through, but yeah.”

  I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to keep dwelling on the past. We’re finally getting the future we wanted, and after today, we need to focus on that.

  “Have you picked your pieces for the show yet?”

  Rafe’s back is to me, but I can see his profile. His whole body is tense, right down to his strong jaw. His entire demeanor has changed since we crossed the threshold of the shop. I walk around the side of the chair in the middle of his space and put one hand on his shoulder, the other on his arm. “Rafe?”

  “Do you know what it was?”

  “What?” I’m not following his line of thought.

  He repeats his question, his voice coming out hard, gruff. “Do you know what it was?”r />
  All I can do is shake my head. He’s not making any sense.

  “Our baby, Eleanor. Do you know what it was?”

  A sucker punch to the gut would have surprised me less. I close my eyes and sag against his back, finding it painfully hard to pull in oxygen. Head to his spine, I shake it back and forth a few quick times to answer his question. I don’t know what the sex of our child was. It was either too early to tell, or my doctor didn’t share that information with me.

  He must feel the wetness of my tears through his shirt because he finally turns around and wraps me in his arms. His body is still strung tight. I have his shirt bunched in my fists, pulling myself further into his body. I would crawl inside of him if I could. He’s so strong, when all I can seem to do is cry.

  My breath isn’t coming any easier yet.

  “Breathe, Eleanor. In and out.” His arms start to move, rubbing nonsensical patterns along my back and the tops of my arms.

  “I’m sorry,” I manage to say when I can finally inhale and exhale like a normal person.

  “Nothin’ for you to apologize about, baby.” His hands make their way to my face and he moves it back slightly, waiting for my eyes to meet his before he says anything else. “Let’s go outside.”

  Without letting me out of his arms, he leads us through a back door and to a small table, littered with beer bottles and an ashtray. I try to sit in a chair, but he gets me settled on his lap as he lights his cigarette. “Need you close.”

  He stays silent after that, but I feel the need to fill the silence with words. I don’t know why, but I need him to know what I saw for our future.

  “I had to go look for you. As terrifying as the whole notion was, I was actually excited about our baby.” My voice hitches, but I refuse to cry anymore. His arms tighten around my body. I’m practically curled in a ball on his lap, but I think that’s exactly where he wants me. I know that’s where I want to be. “I would sit in our clearing,” I continue, “thinking about how exciting our lives were going to be.” I laugh and shake my head. “Crazy, but so very exciting. I sat in the sunshine, day after day, planning and plotting our lives out. All that was missing was you.”