Page 53 of Brutal Kiss

“Good.”

For a long moment, we just lie there, breathing hard, her body still trembling beneath mine. I can feel her heartbeat gradually slowing where her chest presses against mine, can feel the way she's still holding onto me like I might disappear if she lets go.

I never want her to let go.

When I finally pull back to look at her, her eyes are glazed, unfocused. There's a flush spreading down her neck and chest, and her lips are swollen from my kisses. She looks thoroughly debauched, and the possessive part of me that I didn't know existed roars with satisfaction.

"Hey," I say softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Stay with me, princess."

She blinks, focus slowly returning to her eyes. "I'm here."

"How do you feel?"

A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Like I finally understand what all the fuss is about now."

I can't help but chuckle, even as pride swells in my chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her hand comes up to trace the line of my jaw. "That was... I never knew it could be like that."

"It's not always like that," I tell her honestly. "That was... that was something else entirely."

"What was it?"

I lean down and kiss her forehead, gentle and reverent. "That was love, Sofia. Real love."

Her breath catches, and I see tears gathering in her eyes again. But these are different tears—not fear or pain, but something that looks suspiciously like joy.

"I love you too," she whispers. "So much it scares me."

"Good scared or bad scared?"

"Good scared. The kind that makes me want to be brave."

I kiss her then, soft and slow, tasting the truth on her lips.

When we break apart, I reluctantly pull away from her, ignoring her small sound of protest.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere far. Just getting something to clean you up." I press another kiss to her forehead. "I'll be right back."

I find a washcloth in the bathroom and run it under warm water, my hands surprisingly unsteady. When I return, Sofia has pulled the sheet up to cover herself, watching me with eyes that are still soft and trusting.

"Let me take care of you," I say, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She lets me, lying still as I gently clean away the evidence of what we've done. I'm as careful as I can be, knowing she's probably sore, and when she winces slightly, I murmur apologies against her skin.

"It's okay," she assures me. "I'm okay. Better than okay."

When I'm done, I toss the washcloth aside and climb back into bed with her. She immediately curls into my side, her head finding its place on my chest like that's where it belongs.

"Dante?"

"Mm?"

"When we leave tomorrow... where will we go?"

I run my fingers through her hair, thinking. "I have contacts. People who can help us disappear. New identities, new lives. It'll take some time to arrange, but we can do it."