Page 115 of Crossed

She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t be here.”

My stomach twists. “You should always be with me.”

Her eyes scan mine like she’s trying to peer into my soul.

“Was it you?”

My heart stutters. “Was what me?”

“You know what I mean. You— you said it was you. Youadmittedit.”

Clarity fills me, remembering my slip of the tongue from the last time we were together, when I told her I had killed for her.

I move my right hand, gripping the back of her neck, my thumb brushing over the faded mark I left on her skin.

Possessiveness flares in my chest, a sick satisfaction flooding my veins like a drug.

“Please,” she whispers, her hands reaching up to grip my shirt. “I need to know.”

I exhale slowly, my muscles pulling tight. “You might hate me once you do.”

She shakes her head, pressing herself closer. “Never.”

I tilt her head to the side and lean down, brushing my lips against her ear. “I would kill a thousand men if it made sure you were mine.”

My hand that was resting against her face drops down to ghost over her collarbone and then along her side until it slips beneath the waistband of her skirt and underneath her panties, dipping into her wet cunt.

She gasps.

“I saw you with him and lost my mind,” I say, curling my finger inside her. “I killed him for touching you.” A moan escapes her lips, and she falls into my chest. I drag her in until we’re flush, pumping into her with a slow and steady rhythm. “And I killed the second man to keep you free.”

I push my thumb against her clit, and her pussy clamps around me.

“And Candace?” she asks.

“A tortured soul.”

She hesitates. “Was it because she’s a sex worker?”

“No,” I scoff but then think about what she’s asking, my fingers stalling in their ministrations. “I suppose, in a roundabout way. It wasn’t about her profession as much as her having demons inside her the same as any other sinner.” I pull her by the back of her neck until she’s on her tiptoes and her lips are brushing against mine. “Do you hate me now, petite pécheresse? Will you run the other way?”

Her body trembles and my lungs cramp as I wait for what she says, terrified that she’ll leave and condemn me to a life without her. Or ask me to repent, replacing His expectations with hers.

I’d do it for her. I’d do anything for her.

“I don’t hate you, Cade,” she murmurs, her eyes locking with mine. “I’m in love with you.”

Her words crash into me like a wrecking ball, and I’m slipping out of her cunt and picking her up in my arms, moving her to the nearest pew and tossing her down. Her skirt flies up, and I push her panties to the side and then my mouth is on her, latched around her swollen clit and sucking like I’ll die if I don’t taste her.

She screams out and my hand flies up, muffling the noise, and the second I slip my other hand back inside her cunt, she’s coming, arching her hips as she grinds into my face, her arousal coating my lips.

I sit back and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, but she surges up and grabs my head, sucking herself off my tongue. I groan, my cock throbbing. Without looking, I clumsily undo my pants and free myself, lining my tip up at her entrance and pushing her back down onto the wooden pew. I break my lips away from hers and brush her tangled hair off her cheek before cupping it possessively in my hand.

She’s so damn beautiful.

“You love me, mon trésor?”

She nods, turning her head slightly to suck my thumb into her mouth.