Follow the River (River of Rain, #1)

by C.E. Ricci

You have no idea how wrong you are, baby. I might be on my knees for you, but you’re about to see what it’s like to completely lose control.

Struggling to catch my breath, I reach down and rub my hand through the milky liquid, mixing our cum together with the paint across his abs. Claiming him. Mine. Creating a fucking masterpiece. Ours.

But I have no doubt it will always be intense and passionate. A chaotic flurry of adoration and desire. Yet as messy as this love is, it will always be beautiful. Because it will always be ours.

Staring up at the night sky, it’s the best way to remember we are so much smaller than we make ourselves out to be.

“You have me. You will always have me. Until every star in the night sky burns out. And maybe even then.”

“Tá mé i ngrá leat, Abhainn,”

Being in love is a daily battle, not only fighting for the other person, but for yourself. It’s finding the common ground, the parts of your souls that speak to each other, strengthening them in ways no one else’s ever could. It’s knowing your worth and not only telling the other person you won’t accept anything less than what you deserve, but trusting them to provide that for you. It’s giving the darkest parts of yourself to another human, saying this is who I am in all my fucked up glory, and not asking them to fix you, but to give you what you need to mend yourself.

“Did you lose your mind, Ciaráin Grady?” He gives me a smirk before answering Coach, all the while holding my gaze. “Sure did, Coach. I lost my mind and found my soul.”

That’s a lie. I crave everything about him. His laugh, his smile. His steady heartbeat under my ear. His lightness seeps into my black soul, giving it life—purpose—for the first time in forever. He’s the calm in the storm.

In order to keep River safe, I have to let him go. I have to break off this…thing between us, whatever it is. Honestly, I don’t know how to classify it anymore. What started as a clash of enemies became secret fuck buddies with no labels and an expiration date, then somehow turned into love. Not puppy love or infatuation. The real fucking deal kind of love. I might have been questioning it when I walked into this office, but now I’m absolutely certain. What I feel for him is nothing short of head-over-heels, I’d-do-anything-for-you love. The love you move mountains for. Cross oceans for. The love you give up to keep that person safe from the psychotic asshole who will take anything you care about and annihilate on a molecular level.

“Here’s the thing, Abhainn. My cock might want you, but he isn’t the one in charge. Even if he was, all he wants is that tight ass and warm mouth. But the thing is, he can get that just about anywhere.” Ripping my fingers from my hair, I press my palm to my chest. Speaking in staccato, slow and deliberate, I hope he gets the message. “I, on the other hand, do not want you.”

“Is that really how little you think of me?” No, baby, I think the world of you. I’d give the whole damn thing to you, if only I knew how.

“If you put half as much effort in trying to make us work as you are in trying to rip us apart right now, we could be fucking unstoppable,” he mutters softly. “We’d be everything.”

We already are, my love. You are everything. I only wish I could tell you that.

“I didn’t want to fix you, only save you from your nightmares. Too bad I didn’t realize the real nightmare is you.”

Pain cancels out pain, you can only feel one form of it at a time, and if I can make my body ache enough, maybe it will ease the one in my heart after all the bullshit with Rain.

Fuck, did I lose him? I almost laugh at the irony of that thought, for more than one reason. Because, yeah, I did fucking lose him. I lost his overwhelming presence, his intoxicating laughter, his dirty smirk and flirtatious smiles. I lost all of him. Every fucking piece.

I realize I was wrong. We’re not enemies anymore. We’re something much worse than that. Strangers.