22. Heal

TWENTY-TWO

HEAL

CROSS

O nce again, I’m reminded that Genevieve Libellula is a mafia princess. A civilian woman would hear how possessive I suddenly became and beat feet down the street.

My butterfly?

Without breaking our stare, she grips the waistband of her tight shorts and wiggles them down to the asphalt. She steps out of them, then does the same thing with her panties. Before I know it, she’s naked from the waist down except for her shoes, and before I can marvel over how amazing she looks with her trimmed pussy on display, she turns around.

I growl under my breath, my hand going right for my erection. I keep it tucked behind my jeans, but I can’t stop myself from stroking the hard flesh through the rough material.

And then she braces her elbows on the seat of my bike and bends over, sticking her ass out and says, “Am I? Prove it.”

“Mariposa…” I breathe out.

She glances over her shoulder at me. “What was that?”

“Mi mariposa,” I tell her again. “My butterfly in Spanish.” Dropping low, I untie the laces of both of my boots before rising up again and kicking them off. “I haven’t used a word of Spanish in years. I used to be fluent, but Chad beat that out of me years ago.”

Genevieve starts to get up. “Cross?—”

I lay one hand on the small of her back, keeping her bent over for me. With the other, I unbutton my jeans. “No. Don’t feel sorry for me. Be flattered. When I saw your ass and pussy just now, I forgot English for a second. It’s a good thing that I could rely on Spanish. Maybe I’ll use it more now.” I rub her soft skin before releasing her, saying a silent prayer when she stays down. “You’re right. I survived him. I survived Winter.” With two free hands now, I yank my shirt up and over my head, then shove my jeans down past my ass. I don’t stop until they’re off, too, and I’m butt-bucking-naked outside of the Playground. “I just don’t know if I’m going to survive you.”

Her eyes sparkle in invitation. She goes up on her tip-toes, letting me see how her folds glisten for me. “Only one way to find out.”

“Remember,” I growl, grabbing my cock. I’m already so hard, it won’t take much to have me going off like a rocket. Since I want to be inside of Genevieve when I do, I brace my legs behind her, then use her juices to cover the length of my cock before I position it right at her entrance. “You’re the one who wanted to fuck.”

I feed the first two inches inside of her, gritting my teeth when her warmth envelopes me.

She goes still. I pause, making sure she’s with me all the way, only for her to snort. “With that lead pipe of yours ready and raring to go, babe, I’m not the only horny one here. You want to fuck me, too. Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying anything.”

Genevieve swallows and goes up on her toes again, taking more of me. “I’ve never regretted doing anything with you. Not the first time. Not now. But if you’re going to?—”

I bottom out inside of her, stealing the last of her woods as she trades it for a soft, “Oh.”

“You okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. I guess I just forget how stuffed you make me feel.”

“Then let me remind you, butterfly,” I murmur, withdrawing just enough that she’ll feel it when I push back inside of her.

She squeals.

It’s music to my ears.

“Just like that,” she groans. “Do it again.”

“Don’t be so demanding, Genevieve,” I tease.

She sniffs royally even as she takes my cock. “I’m a Libellula. I was born to be obeyed.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup. But, like I said… if you don’t want to fuck me, I’m sure I can find some else who will.”

In answer to that, I quicken my thrusts. Genevieve moans and, instead of bracing herself on her elbows, she lays her belly flat on my motorcycle seat. I grip her hips, holding her there, and fuck her.

“No way,” I grunt as she pants my name under her breath. “You’re mine.”

She pushes her ass back against me, and the moment suddenly becomes charged. “You stayed away.”

“For you .”

Genevieve goes still. Instead of meeting my thrust, she freezes before turning to look over her shoulder and snap, “So fucking help me, Cross, if you try to tell me that you tortured us both by abandoning me for my sake, you can pull out and leave me the hell alone.”

She’s not bluffing. As worked up as we both are, she’ll pull her shorts back on, and walk away as if this meant nothing.

As if we mean nothing…

I grip her hips, clutching her to me as I bury my cock so deeply inside of her, she’d have to crawl over my bike to escape me.

If she told me to get off, I would. If she told me to stop, I’d listen. If she told me she regretted bending over my bike, I’d hate it, but I would have no one else to blame but myself for letting my butterfly flutter out of my grasp.

But I need her. Fuck it, I’ve been nothing without her.

And it’s time I give up on this ridiculous attempt at being selfless. I tried. I fucking failed . I love this woman, and if she’s willing to give me another chance, I’m going to take it as much as I’m taking her.

“Try,” I tell her, knowing better than to dare Genevieve but unable to stop myself. “I gave it a shot, Genevieve. I tried to stay away. I never wanted you to look at me and relive the nightmares of that place?—”

“How could I, Cross?” she demands, still meeting my gaze. “You’re the only good memories I have about that hellhole. When you were gone, that was all that kept me going.” She inches away from me, but trapped beneath my weight, there isn’t anywhere for her to go as she whispers, “I even stopped dancing.”

My stomach drops. I even start to deflate a little, losing my erection. “You never stop dancing.”

“You were gone. So was the music in my heart. But tonight, when I saw you coming for me from across the dance floor, that’s the first time I wanted to use my body for anything other than existing from one moment to the next.”

I start to withdraw from the warmth of her body. What she said… it’s so eerily similar to how I felt. Both as a kid when my family perished, and then when I purposely walked away from Genevieve. “I’m so sorry?—”

“No,” she snaps, and the ferocity has me freezing in place. Well, that, and the way she reaches behind her, jabbing her fingernails in my ass cheeks. “You stop fucking me, then you’ll be sorry. I was bluffing. I don’t care anymore about why you were gone. I just got you back. At least stay with me for now.”

As if trying to keep me closer, she squeezes my cock, trapping me in a vice so holy and tight I couldn’t pull out if I wanted to. My erection comes roaring back to life, but hearing her beg me to stay?

I bow my body over her, pinning her in place as I quicken my pace, giving her every inch I have. “Forever,” I gasp as she scratches her nails up my spine. “You and me, butterfly. We’re forever.”

She makes a soft sound in the back of her throat. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s struck speechless at my fervent vow, or because she starts spasming around me, coming as soon as started pounding into her again, but instead of trying to get away from me again, she arches her back again, taking all of me.

And as I drop my head to her neck, suckling on her skin as I thrust, waiting until I send my body ready to explode, I make sure to give her every last fucking drop I have.

I give myself permission to come once she does. It was a messy fuck, frantic and emotional, but with my post-nut clarity, I realize that she can’t be comfortable with my bike seat digging into her belly. I thrust a few more times, to remind her that I’m here, that I’m not leaving just because we both got off, then I slowly pull out.

A sense of masculine pride fills me as I watch my come dribble out of her well-used pussy. Bending behind her, I press a kiss to her ass, then use my finger to gather up as much of the moisture as I can before dipping it back up inside of her. Only then when I’m satisfied that I did do I run my palm over the glove of her ass again and murmur, “You feeling okay, butterfly?”

“Mm.”

I laugh. Good enough.

Rising up, feeling a hundred pounds later than I did earlier tonight even though I only lost a couple of ounces, I ease my arms under Genevieve’s. I murmur to her to hold on before lifting her up off of my bike.

She’s boneless, but in a good way. Her expression is one of pure satisfaction as she reaches up, twining her fingers in my hair, holding me to her.

My heart is racing. I’m out of breath, but as I look down at Genevieve, I finally find the words that I should have said a long, long time ago: “I love you.”

She blinks, as though not sure she heard me right. “What?”

“That’s the short version. I love you.”

“I…” Her brows draw together. “Okay. Wait. That’s the short version. What’s the long version?”

I press my thumbs to her cheeks, still staring into her pretty blue eyes. “I’ve watched my world burn, nothing left but ash. But you, my mariposa, my butterfly, mi amor… you are the undying flame that’s transfixed me, and the reason I can love again. I love you, Genevieve Libellula. And I meant it. This isn’t for tonight. This isn’t for now. This is forever .”

And that does it.

The sated look from two seconds ago slides right off of her face. I see a flash of pain, then she shoves me away from her. Swooping down, searching for the pile of our discarded clothing, she tosses my shirt to the side, reaching for her shorts.

I stop her by squatting down, grabbing her wrist. “Talk to me. Genevieve… I spilled my guts out to you. I opened up my goddamn heart. What did I do wrong?”

She hollows her cheeks, but she doesn’t break free of my loose hold. “See. I knew you didn’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“When I called it hate sex before. You thought I was talking about me hating you.” She laughs, though the sound has no humor in it. “Yeah, right. I tried to hate you, you know. For throwing me away so easily…”

“I didn’t,” I cut in. “I was there. You didn't see me, but as much as I tried… I couldn’t stay away.

“Oh. I know.” At my look of surprise, she gives me the smallest smile. “Savannah saw you the other day. She told me tonight before she helped me sneak out of the house.”

Well, that makes a little more sense. Something told me that Damien Libellula had no idea that Genevieve was here, but if she didn’t care, I wasn’t going to, either. I doubted he relaxed at all when it came to locking her up to ensure her safety, but if Savannah let her free so she could come to me… maybe I have a better chance of making this work than I thought.

And then Genevieve adds, “I wanted to hate you. I couldn’t. I loved you too much. But you… You don’t love me, Cross. You can’t .”

No. I shouldn’t .

But I do. I have from the start. My mistake was in doing exactly what she accused me of before: treating her like her brother instead of her partner. Instead of her lover. I thought I knew better, that she’d be safer without me, but I was wrong .

I gather her up in my arms.

I’m standing in the middle of a Springfield alley, my ass out, my cock semi-hard as if it has hopes of getting back inside of Genevieve where it belongs. I don’t want to think about what my bare feet have been stepping in. Anyone could walk out and see us. The bus boys taking out a load of garbage. One of the waitresses coming out for a smoke. Anyone … but I don’t give a shit.

Right now? This moment is for my butterfly and me.

And as she melts against me before dissolving into tears—tears that could mean so many different things—I accept that Genevieve was spot-on when she called us both survivors.

We’re just survivors who we still have a shit ton of healing to do, but we’re going to do it.

Together.