Page 62 of Stains of Desire

11

Penelope

We eatin silence while I rack my brain on how to make things right between Axel and me. I insulted him. At least fifteen minutes have passed, but the hurt is still on his face.

We finish eating the squirrel. He tosses the stick with the remains into the fire. It creates extra smoke, filling my lungs, and I cough.

"Crap. Sorry." He pulls me closer to him, rubs my back, and holds the canteen of water to my lips.

I take a sip.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I smile, relieved to be talking again, even if it's only a few words. "Yep. Thanks for dinner."

"Sorry it wasn't anything fancy."

"Breakfast was the most exciting meal I've had in eighteen months. And your spices made it better than anything Santiago's thugs fed us. Half the time, things were partially raw."

His body stiffens. "I wish Andre would have let us open fire on him."

"Why didn't he?"

"There were too many of his men around. It would have created possible issues getting all six of you to safety."

"Makes sense."

He twists the stick in the fire.

"Axel."

"Hmm?" He turns.

"My assumptions about you...they weren't fair. It's my insecurities, not anything you did."

He closes his eyes then opens them. "I crossed the line with you last night. In all my years of rescuing women, I've never touched any of them. My actions aren't professional. And I don't do things like this."

"Like what?"

He pulls me onto his lap then tucks my hair behind my ear. "If I met you outside of these circumstances, I'd ask you out. We'd get dressed up, go to a nice dinner, and I would behave like a gentleman. But I seem to have lost my ability to shut my mouth and take anything slow with you. Which I'm sorry for because you're not like any woman I've ever met. If anyone should be wined and dined, it's you. And my lack of self-control has made you believe this is my normal behavior."

I run my fingers through his hair. "I don't need to go out for fancy meals."

The light of the fire flickers in his eyes. In a low voice, he replies, "I'd like to think I know what you need. But I don't want to do anything else wrong. So tell me. What do you need?"

Instead of answering him, I lean into his lips and kiss him, repositioning my body so my knees dig into the cold dirt next to his hips.

He aggressively palms my head, and his other arm circles around me. The heat of his tongue lights up every nerve ending I have.

My body reacts to his growing erection, grinding on it with desperation. Any worries or guilt gets pushed aside. As much as I've questioned whether it's right for us to be together, his intentions are clear. What he's offering me, I can't refuse. But I need him to know where I stand.

"I'm not going to say no or stop," I claim then consume his mouth some more.

His one arm leaves my body, and he fumbles in his bag while continuing to kiss me. "You won't regret me?"

"No."

He pulls back. "If you regret me, I won't forgive myself."