Staring down at me, he asked, “You gonna stay mad for long?”

“Just fuck me.”  My eyes pleaded with his.

He teased me with his cock, pushing it against me and then pulling away.  “No,” he grunted, “tell me.”

I moved my hands to his head and pulled hard on his hair.  “I don’t know.”

He buried his face in my neck and bit me hard before sucking and licking me.

Fuck, yes.

I tilted my hips, trying to push myself into his cock, but he moved his hips up, thwarting me.

“Fuck me!” I demanded, and his head reared up, angry eyes coming to mine.

“Feel me!” he yelled back.

“I am fucking feeling you.”

“No, you’re not!”  He pushed up off me, and although I had my legs tight around him, his strength was too much for me to fight and he pushed through my hold and stood.  Standing at the edge of the bed, body straining with anger and passion, he demanded, “Put all that shit out of your head, and feel it here.”  He pounded on his chest before continuing. “Life’s too fucking short to let that other shit get in the way of what we feel, and I’m not going to fucking lose it again.”

I watched his breathing grow ragged and took in the ravaged look on his face.  There was something else going on here, and my anger eased enough to let him in.  I moved off the bed and into his space.  Placing my hand on his chest, I asked softly, “What won’t you lose again, baby?”

His chest heaved, and he took a moment to answer me.  “You.  I won’t fucking lose you.”

He wasn’t making sense; he’d never lost me before.  “I’m not going anywhere, Donovan.  I’m just mad, but I’ll get over it.”

“Now,” he forced out, “You need to get over it now.  I’m not doing this again . . . ”

He still wasn’t making any sense.  I grabbed his face with both my hands and begged, “Tell me what you’re not doing again.”

The despair on his face pierced my heart.  My strong man struggled with so much, and all I wanted to do in that moment was wrap him in my arms and never let go.  I wanted to soothe his hurt and take it all away from him.  But that wasn’t how life worked, and he had to move through it before he could escape from its clutches.

I waited, but he didn’t say anything.

“Baby,” I whispered, “I feel you.  I feel the pain that lives in you, the pain that has shredded you and left scars all over your soul.  I feel the passion you feel.  I feel the anger you have at life.  And I feel your struggle with the darkness.”

His breaths were coming hard and fast as he stood staring at me, taking in my words.  I stepped even closer to him, skin to skin, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.  My hands went to his chest and I slid them up and around his neck.  Pulling his face down to mine, I kept kissing him until he opened his mouth and let me in.  This kiss was unlike any we’d ever shared.  Gentle and loving, there was none of the roughness we usually preferred.  I moaned into his mouth as the sensations washed over me. The pleasure Donovan never failed to give me.

He fell into the kiss and his hands went around me and slid over my ass to cup my cheeks.  I ground myself against him, and he lifted me into his arms.  As my legs locked around him, he turned and walked us to the wall.

He broke the kiss and brought his hand to my neck.  Rubbing his thumb over me, his gaze focused on my neck as he murmured, “How the fuck . . . ” His voice trailed off, leaving me confused again.

“How the fuck, what?” I asked him, puzzled.

His eyes flicked to mine.  “How the fuck did I find you?”

I held my breath for a moment as the intensity in the air settled over me.  “How the fuck did we find each other?”

He felt what I said; what the spaces in between my words held.  I saw it written all over his face.  “Fuck,” he muttered, and then his lips gave me the roughness I craved from him.

Our mouths and bodies moved together as we forgot the stuff holding our minds back and simply let what we felt in our hearts consume us.  I clung to him and when he thrust inside me, I squeezed my legs tighter around him and moved my hips with his.  He fucked me with the raw, animalistic passion that was Donovan.

That was us.

As he brought me to orgasm, I moaned and dug my nails into his back.  And then he came, too, roaring out his release.

As he stilled, his head dropped, and he grunted words I couldn’t make out.  He seemed to be lost somewhere within himself.  I simply held him and gave him the space to work through whatever was running through his mind.  Eventually, he lifted his head and looked at me.  I stared back at him, waiting.

“Never again, baby,” he said, his voice hoarse.

My brows pulled together.  “What?”

“If you’re angry at me, we work that shit out before I leave.  Not gonna be away from you again when you’re mad at me.”

My stomach fluttered.  “Okay,” I whispered.

“And in the future I won’t leave if we’ve got plans.”

This time my heart fluttered.  “Good.”

We stayed like that for a couple more moments.

Silent.

And then he muttered, “Fuck.”

“What?”

He pulled out of me and let me down.  “I fucked you without a condom.”