Page 70 of Under Your Scars

There’s something brutally betrayed in the unique icy blue of his eyes.

I want to love Christian. I want to have a life with him, and I want him to show me every side of him, even the parts he thinks are unlovable. Because that’s what he feels for me, and I want him to know that I cherish his love by reciprocating.

But I don’t love him. Not yet. Not when everything between us is so new and raw.

While I’m lost in thought, Christian begins slowly grinding into me. This isn’t anything like all the other times we’ve been together. This isn’t boundless euphoria. This isn’t getting lost in each other’s bodies to sate the carnal desires we feel for each other.

This is him making love to me. This is how he’s choosing to show me that he means it. It’s beautiful and passionate and tender and gentle. I mewl as he grinds into me, seated as deep as he can manage—so deep until I’m not sure where he ends, and I begin. I wrap my arms around his shoulders. I moan quietly each time he drags his pelvis across my clit.

“Christian.” He shudders at the way his name falls off my lips. “Tell me again,” I beg him, my voice breaking.

He rests his forehead against mine and my pussy flutters at the pure intimacy of this moment that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with our hearts morphing together.

“I love you, Elena.”

He waits. He waits and waits and waits for me to say it back. More tears spill from my eyes, pouring down my face now. My lip quivers and I sniffle. “I’m sorry.”

He shushes me with a soft kiss and begins to thrust into me again, leaving kisses over every inch of my skin he can reach.

His moan when he finishes inside me doesn’t hide the shattering of his heart.

CHAPTER 19

THE ANGEL

When I wake up with the bright sun reflecting off a beautiful blue ocean, I feel peace. I feel serenity. The sliding glass doors that make up a full wall of the bedroom of the yacht are open, letting a cool breeze flutter around the room. I sit up in the bed, finding it empty.

“Christian?” I call out towards the bathroom, but the door is closed, and the light is off. His side of the bed is cold. He must be somewhere else on the boat. I stand up with the sheet wrapped around my naked body and walk out onto the balcony of our room, inhaling the refreshing, clean ocean air.

After I take a moment to breathe and compose myself, I go back into the room to take a proper shower and get ready for the day. I dress myself in a cornflower blue jumpsuit, classy enough for a luncheon but still cute and casual. It’s got a mock neck, short sleeves, and an open back. I pair it with nude strappy heels, light makeup, and throw my hair into one long braid down my back.

I carry my heels as I walk around the deck, feeling over the glossy, pearlescent paint of the yacht. I still can’t believe Christian bought this boat, much less believe that he named it after me. What did I ever do to deserve that man?

I think about what he said to me last night. Now that I know the ‘good thing’ was a confession of love, anxiety spikes in my veins, wondering what he could possibly tell me that would be so bad I’d no longer believe it.

I think I knew that he loved me before those words fell from his lips, but to hear him say it felt surreal. I will love him back, in time. I just don’t feel as intensely as he does about everything.

One day, when I’m sure of it, I’ll tell him ‘I love you too’.

I find Christian on the main deck, looking out over the ocean. When I notice we’re no longer near the island, it occurs to me that we must have gone out to sea while I was sleeping. Christian has a white-knuckled grip on the railing of the boat, and a cigarette between two of his fingers. I watch him for a while. The steady rise and fall of his torso as he takes deep, even breaths. He’s not even smoking the cigarette; the ashes are simply landing on the deck as the flame slowly eats away at the paper and toxins until it’s nothing but a short nub.

I make myself known by wrapping my arms around him from behind and pressing my cheek into his back. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

My body tenses. He sounds so cold, and my heart begins to ache at the thought of how hurt he looked last night when he realized I wasn’t going to tell him I love him.

“Christian…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he says with a sigh. “I get it.”

A knot ties itself inside my throat, making it hard to swallow.

“Edwin always used to say that I was intense in all aspects of my life. I always thought he was full of shit. He was an old man, trying to be a father figure to a punk ass kid who didn’t want to listen. It wasn’t until I got older that I started to notice it. Anger. Guilt. Jealousy. Pride. Then I met you, and falling in love was like some nuclear catalyst inside me. I’ve been consumed by it—by you. I can’t think about anything else except how much I want you to be mine to love, forever.” He takes a deep breath. “I mean that in the kind of way that’s going to suffocate you one day but I can’t stop. I can’t fucking stop. I won’t be satisfied until I am every part of your existence as you are mine.”

Hiding my own tears, I pull away from him and force him to turn around and face me. He’s got his head turned away like he’s ashamed of feeling so strongly for me. I run my fingers along his jawline in a way that has him purring under my touch.

“Look at me,” I demand, my tone soft but firm. “I am so, so sorry that you trusted me with your heart and that I didn’t give you mine back, but I promise I will. Ipromisewe’ll have that all-consuming love that gives us cavities and I promise we’ll build a life and a home and a family together if that’s what you want. I just need a little time to learn how to love you back.”