Resistance (46 page)

I swallow. “It's been mentioned a time or two.”

He shakes his head at me. “You really have
no
idea
, do you?”

Lost, I blink in confusion. “No idea about what?”

His eyes get serious as he looks at me. “That
you
are the most beautiful, selfless, amazing woman I have
ever
met in my entire life.” His hand moves to my cheek and
then his fingers play in my hair. “
I love you
and I believe
you
are the absolute definition of
perfection
.” He
pauses. “And
no
, my eyesight isn’t failing.”

Blood rushes to my face as I listen to the perfect
words falling out of his beautiful mouth, and I feel a huge smile
overtake my face. Happiness floods in and all I can do is stare
into his eyes and smile like an idiot. He smiles right back at me.
“You've got a great smile,” he says, and I feel my smile widen even
more.

“You do too,” I say, feeling dazed.

“Well, thank you,” he says with a wink. His smile
dazzles me and makes my face flush with heat. I bite my lip to keep
from attacking his mouth and glance up at his eyes to find them
locked on mine. I lick my lips and suddenly he’s only inches away.
I feel his warm breath on my face as he moves closer still. I don’t
know who moves next, but he finally kisses me and everything else
falls away. I moan softly at the feeling of completeness that comes
over me when his mouth claims mine.

I wonder absently if kissing is always to be like
this; this explosion of fire between two people, or if what Flint
and I have is really as special as I believe it to be. His mouth is
warm and open, his tongue dances with mine as he runs a hand down
my back and over the curve of my hip, and I stop thinking and just
bask in the feelings he brings to life inside me. He shifts onto
his back and pulls me on top of him; my knees bracketing his hips.
I press myself closer to him, feel my curves fit against his firm
muscles and shiver in pleasure.

He relinquishes my mouth, his lips trail to my ear
and he rasps, “You’re killing me, Fi.” I don’t know if it’s his
warm breath in my ear, his tongue grazing the outer shell of my
ear, the actual words or the slow drawl of his accent that I feel
low in my belly, but heat spreads everywhere and I exhale an “Oh”
of pure bliss and tilt my head to the side to grant him easier
access to my neck.

Flint trails hot kisses down my neck as I slide my
hands under his tee shirt and over his stomach. He makes a low
noise in his throat and rolls us until he’s above me and his mouth
is back on mine. I surprise myself by breaking our kiss to pull his
shirt over his head and toss it to the side. He’s breathing
heavily, his eyes darkened with passion and his hair disheveled,
and I take a moment to appreciate the sight of him looking so
undone. He’s beautifully put together; lean muscled with just a
smattering of fine hair trailing down to the waistband of his
jeans. I lean up and press my mouth to his collarbone, making him
tremble, and I feel a surge of power that
I’m
the reason
behind it. He groans and takes my mouth again, pulling me deeper
into lust.

Flint’s mouth moves along my jaw toward my ear and
his hand slips under my tank top; pausing on my rib cage before
moving further. I arch into his touch and his eyes are locked on
mine as he slides his hand up and lightly grazes the underside of
my breast before exploring further. I gasp in pleasure and lean
into his touch; his eyes still gauging my every expression. I bite
my lip because the feel of his hand on my bare flesh is making me
crazy. I say his name breathlessly and he brings his mouth back
down on mine, smothering my moan.

Yearning like I’ve never known courses through me
everywhere his mouth or hands touch me and I am drowning in this
ache to be closer to him. I let my hands move over the bare skin of
his ribs and he draws in a ragged breath before dragging my earlobe
between his teeth gently. My fingers trail uncertainly over his
stomach and skirt along where his jeans hang low on his hips and he
sighs, “Fianna” like a promise; pronouncing my name with the soft
a’s like it was meant to be. I shiver with him when his hands move
under my shirt, pulling it up and over my head, and I feel heat
flood my cheeks as he looks down on me with passion in his eyes.
“You’re so beautiful, mo gradh,” he whispers, and then his mouth
moves from my ear to my neck and then lower.

My fingers fist gently in his hair and I am about to
ask him what he just called me when I feel his mouth on my breast
and I lose the thought. I lean into the sensation he’s building and
breathe his name. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I pull him down
onto me and he goes still for a moment; a low groan slipping from
between his lips. I only have a moment to wonder if I did something
wrong because his mouth descends on mine again; tangling a hand in
my hair as he runs the other down my side before gripping my hip
and arching into me, letting me feel his need.

Flint kisses his way down my body and wrings a small
sound of pleasure from somewhere deep inside me when his teeth
graze the skin over my ribs. When his fingers dip into the
waistband of my shorts and skim along my bare skin, anxiety shoots
through the cloud of desire in my brain and I stiffen
involuntarily.

Memories of last summer flood in and I’m back there
in the spare room of Sean’s apartment with Hugh above me; his bulk
holding my body to the bed while one of his hands holds my wrists
together above my head. It’s hot and the air is stale, but I know
without a doubt that if I make another sound he will end up hurting
me worse. I know what to expect now, but I don’t enjoy anything
about this act. I know I make things worse for myself by
challenging him, but I just can’t seem to keep quiet sometimes. So
I try to keep silent and still as he jerks my undergarments off and
stares down at me with empty eyes. His hands are rough on my skin
and I know there will be bruises left behind again when he’s done
with me.

I try to escape in my mind, thinking of books I’ve
read, and pretend that this isn’t my reality. I’m not in this dark
room with this man and his angry words. When his hard voice bemoans
how small I am, I feel the pain of his squeezing hands and hold in
the tears that want to fall. I try to jerk away from his touch, but
that only makes him angrier and I’m rewarded with an even harder
pinch to the sensitive flesh of my chest. He doesn’t stop there;
poking and prodding me with blunt fingers while keeping up a
running commentary on all the ways my body isn’t to his liking.
I’ve heard it all before: I’m too bony, my breasts are too small,
I’m too pale and I know nothing about pleasing a man. I told him
once in a fit of temper that it never stopped him from taking what
he wanted from me. There were bruises covering my chest and ribs
after that little outburst, and I did my very best not to repeat
that mistake.

I don’t understand what women get out of sex,
honestly. I’ve never experienced anything but pain during or after,
but Hugh says that’s my fault. According to him I make it worse for
myself and am too frigid to enjoy sex. I have no girlfriends to
ask, my mother is gone and I wouldn’t have ever discussed this with
her anyhow. I have no evidence to counter his claims. All I know is
that every time he leads me into this room and takes my clothes off
I want to kick and scream and fight, but I’ve learned the hard way
that it won’t do me any good. Instead I bite my tongue until I
taste blood when he uses his knees to keep my thighs parted to his
liking. I hold in the tears as he drives into me insistently and
try to ignore the feeling like I’m being torn apart. His thrusts
are punishing and the pain is intense as his cold voice spouts
insults in my ear. I just close my eyes and wait for it to be
over
.

I feel Flint press a hot, wet kiss to my stomach and
I’m jerked back to the present by the unexpected caress and the
feeling it elicits.
Hugh
never kissed me like that before.
Hugh
never
kissed me at all, in any way, shape or form.
Ever.
My confusion grows as want wars with remembered pain
in my head. I know Flint would never set out to harm me, and what I
share with him is nothing like I’ve experienced before, but I
honestly don’t know what to expect. He kisses his way back up my
body and I relax in slow degrees the closer he gets to my mouth. He
claims my lips in a searing kiss and I move my hands to his
shoulders. Holding him close to me, I try to make myself forget
about everything but
this
man.

He senses the shift, of course, and moves his mouth
to my ear and whispers, “Are you okay, love?” I quiver in response.
He brushes a stray hair off my face, traces his finger down my
cheek to my lips and my breath catches in my throat.

I manage a nod and he braces his head on his hand;
his elbow on the pillow next to my head, the rest of his body still
pressed intimately against mine. He drags a lock of my hair over my
shoulder and traces its path down my body with his fingertips. His
eyes are hot on mine as he watches my reaction to his touch play
over my face. I see his eyes drift down to my bare chest and feel
my face flame. I look next to me and see his tee shirt where I
threw it in my haste earlier. Flint follows my gaze and pulls it
over for me. He pulls back and rolls onto his side next to me to
give me more room. I sit up and pull his shirt over my head,
feeling calmer once I’m covered.

Flint surprises me by pulling me back down to his
side. His hand is hot on my waist as I lie on my side facing him.
“Where did you go, love?” he asks me with worry in his eyes, and I
run my fingers over his jaw while my heart rate doubles.

“I’m right here…I just uh…I remembered something,” I
say feebly.

His brow raises. “Oh? What is it?”

I bite my lip and stall. I really don’t want to
answer him, but I recognize the steady look in his eyes. He isn’t
going to drop this, so I blurt the first thing that pops into my
head. “Thistle tea!”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m an idiot.
I
know my face is bright red and he looks completely lost.

“Pardon?” he says, and I cover my face with my hands,
wishing the bed would just swallow me.

“Thistle tea,” I say from behind my fingers, “is a
sort of…um…well…” I groan out loud and rush on, “It’s an herbal
contraceptive.” And then I roll onto my stomach and bury my face in
the pillow.

I feel his hand settle on my back and rub my shoulder
and he says, "Don't be embarrassed, love, it's alright." He pauses.
"We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." I try
to swallow around the lump in my throat. I want to explain, but I
don’t even know where to begin.

Instead I roll over, lace my fingers through his and
look up into his eyes. “I swear it isn’t that I don’t want to,
Flint.”

He smiles at me reassuringly and kisses my forehead,
and I feel some of the tension leave me. "Just because you
want
to
doesn't mean you're ready." He tugs my hand up and kisses my
knuckles. "And that's okay. I don't mind waiting."

"Thank you…for being so sweet." I tug my bottom lip
between my teeth and feel my face heat. I look down at my fingers
intertwined with Flint’s and decide to confess quietly. "I'm
scared."

He frowns, looking confused, and starts massaging my
palm. "Scared?" He angles his head and tries to snare my gaze.
"Scared of what?"

I meet his eyes, my face hot, and open my mouth and
then close it again. I feel weak, remembering Hugh. But this is
Flint
and I know he won’t be cruel, so very quietly I tell
him, "It will hurt…” and look back down at our clasped hands.

I hear him clear his throat and he uses our hands to
tilt my head up, holding my gaze with his. He flexes his jaw;
anger, at Hugh I’m sure, simmering in his eyes. "It
shouldn't
hurt. It..." He shakes his head and lets out a
steadying breath. "I promise you — when you're ready, I'll be
gentle. I
won't
hurt you."

I shake my head. "No, no, I didn't think
you
would ever hurt me on purpose...I just thought..." I stop as I
realize I was wrong. Sex
isn’t
supposed to be a
terror-inducing nightmare. I find that I don’t want to think about
what that means for me and quietly say, "
I know
you wouldn't
hurt me."

Flint offers me a small smile. "Good." He pauses,
opens his mouth like he’s going to say something and then closes it
again. He lifts an arm and gestures for me to come closer. "Get
over here."

I grin shyly at him and shift over so he can wrap his
arm around me. He pulls me against his chest and kisses the top of
my head. I pull back a little as I remember that I wanted to ask
him what he called me earlier. I lift my head so I can look into
his eyes. “By the way, what did you call me earlier?”

He looks down at me, his brow furrowing. "When are
you referring to?"

I blush as I remember his mouth on me. "You know." I
look down and avoid his eyes. "Um...before...you said I was
beautiful and then something in Gaelic, I think."

He smirks a little but tries to hold it in. "Ah.
Mo gradh
?"

My face is still on fire but I nod. "Yes, that — what
does it mean?"

He looks at me, very obviously trying not to laugh.
"It means ‘baby chicken’."

I smack his shoulder and try to suppress my own
laughter. "It does not!"

"Oh, but it does." He smirks. "I don't know, love,
you just remind me of a baby chicken."

I hit him again, still trying not to laugh at his
antics. "Flint! Tell me the truth — what does it
really
mean?"

His attempt at a serious face cracks and he laughs.
"It means 'my love', Fi."

I grin up at him as warmth floods my cheeks and an
overwhelming feeling of contentment fills me. I tuck my head under
his chin, press my lips to his throat and hear him make a low
humming noise. “I love you,” I say softly and he squeezes me
tighter.