Page 19

I saw it in his eyes. Chaos was exploding, but he tried to keep the facade that he was at least somewhat composed.

With one more glance at me, I knew he buried the rest of his thoughts, keeping them hidden in his mind, unwilling to share any more.

The things that haunted him were not meant for me, not after what he had put me through.

And before I could encourage his openness, he said, “I wish… I wish you could trust me again.”

I blinked and let my lips part with the request. In slow enunciations, I uttered, “I don’t trust anyone.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“You should have told me the truth.”

He closed his eyes and bowed his head. “You’re right.

I thought your trust was more important.

Because with your trust came your love. It was the easier, less complicated route.

” His jaw clenched with tension. “But I realize protecting you is what matters most, no matter how you feel about me.” In a slow movement, he leaned forward and wiped the tracks of tears from his cheek.

“I was selfish, and I thought I could protect you from the Cidris. And I regret everything. I am sorry.”

We stayed in mutual silence, letting it wrap around us in the beginnings of understanding.

“What happened?” I questioned, gesturing to the wound over his temple.

He kept his mouth shut like he was mulling over a way to get out of explaining.

“The truth, please.”

He sighed and retracted his hand from mine.

I left mine out for him to take again if he chose to.

His eyes latched on to my empty palm, and he laid his hand back down on mine, this time wrapping his fingers around it. “Someone found my stash of your blood after he realized I was farming only you. I walked in on him drinking it.” He paused as if reliving it. “I chose your safety over his.”

I swallowed hard, knowing that was Fletcher’s way of saying he had killed the Cidris. “What’d he do to you?”

“Knife. He got me in my shoulder too.” The hand that had lain in mine went to his left shoulder gingerly, touching it. To know there were more wounds beneath his shirt than the ones he had taken from me… gosh, the pain he must be in.

That was enough to throw me into action.

To break the cloud of uncertainty that had been stifling me.

I released the blanket, ends falling to the wayside, exposing all of myself to him.

Carefully, I got out of my seat, rounded the rectangular table, and made my way to the kitchen.

I grabbed a clean towel and poured some alcohol on it.

I returned and swung my leg over him, before resting my bottom on his lap. “May I?”

His eyes darted over my face, as if he had forgotten what I looked like up close. Then, he nodded as his hands found their place on my thighs.

I dabbed the wound on his temple with the towel and listened to him hiss. When I was finished, I set the towel down and brought my fingers to the injury with the intention of taking it from him, but before I could touch it, he caught my wrist.

“Don’t you dare.” His watery gaze lifted to mine as he pushed my hand back down to my side.

His deep brown eyes pierced through me in that moment. And I saw him. I saw the Fletcher I had loved. And I wanted him. I wanted to reach for him, drag him back to the surface. “Hold me. ”

Strong arms slowly banded around my waist as he brought me close to his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck, his face tucked into the nape of mine. My shoulder dampened with his silent tears. Compared to my steady breathing, Fletcher’s was erratic. Heavy, uneven.

“Breathe with me.”

I took a deep breath and waited for him to follow. When he did, I exhaled slowly. We continued like this until his breathing synced to mine. His smell surrounded me in its familiarity and warmth. A need to heal him—to heal us both—flowed through me.

“Make love to me.”

His head popped up as his arms loosened around me. “What?”

I brought my head forward, crashing my lips against his.

The tension between us collapsed. And as I tried to pry his lips open with my tongue, he kept his sealed.

I growled and lifted my head with the sting of rejection burning a hole in my pride.

“I said make love to me. Help me forget what happened.”

His brows were knitted together as his lips finally parted. “How could you make love to me without trusting me? ”

The question settled uneasily in my soul. He was right, but I quickly realized why I could. “Because I’m hoping you can change my mind.”

His brows pulled up and the tears ceased with the promise of hope. “I will.”

“Then take me to bed.”

“Yes, princess.”

With a hand curled behind my head, he brought me forward until our parted lips touched briefly. His breath coated my mouth and it melted something icy and solid within me.

His scent, his breathing, the thumping of his heart, it all overwhelmed me. The tender way he held me blossomed in my heart like a new magic was taking form that only he could create.

He lifted me by my bottom as I wrapped my legs around his waist. I tucked my head into his neck, kissing and sucking along the hair-thin scar that ran from his jaw down his neck I had given him as a child.

The taste of salt and spices coated my tongue as he took each step up the stairs then gently laid me down on the bed.

He leaned over me and let his lips brush over mine. It was familiar and sweet, and it had me caving. Before, our kisses were loving and tender. Now there was this gravitational animosity between us that cracked open a new type of passionate intimacy.

“Ripley…” he whispered. “You will never know how much I have missed you.” His hand ran down my neck, over my shoulder, and down my arm to my hand. “Are you going to regret this?”

“I’m not sure.” Regret. I could feel it boiling up with his question. I shouldn’t. I might.

He glided his hand over my heart. “I’d rather die than let the Cidris have you again. The only reason I didn’t rip them all apart for laying a hand on you was because we were outnumbered. And I’ve seen what they do to traitors.”

Beneath the touch of his palm, I felt it. I felt that connection I’d been deprived of weave from him into my whole body. He still loved me.

The thought curled in my stomach. It sent heat down my core and melted my insides with wetness. My body had never forgotten him.

No matter how much I felt the three powerful words clawing their way up my chest, I couldn’t pry my teeth open. My throat remained closed.

Anticipation crossed his expression like he knew what I was feeling, what I wanted to say .

I swallowed hard and looked inwardly for the love I had held for him but came up with something a lot more complicated and intricate that glittered of old love woven into its delicate fabric of our relationship.

It held grief and beauty. And I grasped it.

Because it was mine. It was ours. Still, in the lowest, saddest whisper, I admitted, “I can’t say it yet, Fletcher. ”

Something emerged in his eyes that gathered in dusty and morose storm clouds. It was lust and a shot of clarity that battled each other. He clenched his teeth. “I know.”

With my hands, I shoved myself upward toward the pillows, getting out from under him, and pulled back the covers for Fletcher to crawl in.

He made his way around the bed and lay beside me. I moved toward him, reaching for his black pants, pulling them down to see he was hard for me already. His arms scooped me up and dragged me over him.

I put a flat palm over his chest. “Are you going to be okay with all your wounds?”

“I will if you will.”

Though he held my physical wounds, I assumed he meant my marred psyche and indecision about him. Was I going to be okay making love to someone who had betrayed me ?

I couldn’t agree or disagree. Instead, I brought my lips over his as I answered by easing myself down on him, filling myself so deeply that intense pleasure rippled through my body and sent a trapped moan out of my mouth.

He took a sharp inhale as I ground myself against him.

I felt the warm surface of the blankets get drawn over my bare back as he covered me.

Then, one hand drove to the back of my head, bringing me harder into him.

His kisses were deep and powerful, injecting some sort of life into my veins that I had lost while in the cages.

His hands ran along my ribs, the same hands that had pressed down on the red button to farm me.

Flashes of it played out like a montage.

He had hurt me. He had hurt me so much. This was a cruel punishment.

“Please, think about this instead,” he begged, replacing the air between us with his lips.

Tears welled in my eyes as the softness of them melted me.

“It’s okay if this is too much. We can stop.”

I pulled away, letting cool air dampen the electricity between us, shaking my head.

“It’s not.” My loose hair fell over his chest, creating a private curtain around our faces.

“I want this.” I swallowed, lust for Fletcher overwhelming me in a haze as I turned my attention to him inside of me.

The more I allowed myself to become submerged in him, the more I realized the sentence felt wrong. I needed to amend it. “I want you .”

“Come here,” he whispered, dragging me back down to him, lips meeting in a gentle frenzy.

He moved his hips and a caressing volt spiraled up my spine and down my legs. The memories of the cages blurred, shut behind a door I could abuse myself with another time.

Breath heavy. Heart rate increasing. The vision of Fletcher under me was strikingly picturesque.

A moan freed itself from my throat as I continued to ride him, gyrating my hips in a rhythm that matched his thrusts.

Circling myself on him, that bundle of hot nerves pressed against him once every rotation.

He groaned as his strong hands frantically explored my sides, my stomach, my breasts.