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THIRTY-NINE

MOIRA

I wake up and immediately roll over, reaching for Bane’s warm, solid chest.

But he’s not there.

I frown, curls spilling into my face as I blink at the empty sheets. Where the hell is he? He’s always here in the morning.

Then it hits me.

Oh. Right. Church.

Ever since he announced the elopement, which we just pretend happened one week earlier than it did, he keeps saying I’m welcome to come. That everyone would love to meet me.

Right. Me, in a church? That would go over great .

I let my arm flop dramatically over my face.

At least marrying me did the trick. He got to keep his job.

But good Lord, I nearly burned the place down just walking through the doors on Christmas Eve. Almost got him fired the next morning after already almost getting him fired two days before. Pretty sure, for both our sakes, I should stay far, far away.

I ruin things. That’s just what I do.

And yet… somehow, I haven’t ruined this .

I roll onto my stomach and shove my face into his pillow. It still smells like him—warm, woodsy, Bane —and I want to rub it all over me like some desperate little pervert.

Which is exactly what I did last night. Long after he said he should go to sleep because he had to be up early. Long after we should’ve gone to sleep.

But I was hungry for him.

So he gave me what I needed. Because Bane? He’s always doing little things for me. Finding new ways to take care of me. Making sure I eat. Making sure I get out of bed. Making sure I live .

And what do I give him?

I stare up at the ceiling, chewing my lip.

I give him crazy .

I give him problems he didn’t have before.

I give him too much .

I am too much.

I always have been. Too much for Mam. Too much for Domhnall. Too much for my first boyfriend. Too much for everyone who ever got too close.

And yeah, that’s the entire fucking list.

Even Quinn, my closest friend, looks at me like I’m exhausting sometimes. Like she wants to ask, Could you just not?

She and everyone else manage to keep their shit together just fine. Meanwhile, I can’t hold down a job to save my fucking life. She works two jobs, and here I am, falling apart because I woke up alone.

But Bane is different.

He loves me.

Well. He thinks he does.

He loved me enough to marry me.

Except… he had to. If he didn’t, he would’ve lost everything.

I squeeze my eyes shut, shoving those thoughts away, forcing myself to focus on last night instead. He was gentle and then rough and then?—

Fuck, I came so many times I lost count.

My fingers slip between my legs before I even think about it. I’m already wet, already aching, already needing. I bite my lip, thighs clenching around my hand as I let the memory take over.

And then I freeze.

Bane wouldn’t like this. His stupid rules. His obsession with control. His belief that I should wait for pleasure.

I groan, pressing my forehead into his pillow.

But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. It’s not a lie if I just don’t tell him, right?

I barely have time to make up my mind before my orgasm rips through me, fast and hard. My body curls around my own hand, my free hand gripping his pillow so tight my knuckles ache.

And then it’s over.

And I feel guilty.

But the damage is already done, so what does it matter if I do it again?

And again?

And again ?

By the time I hit my tenth orgasm, my body starts to betray me. The pleasure dulls, my clit going rubbery and numb. No, no, no. I rub harder, but it just makes things worse.

And then I’m crying.

I flop back on the bed, yanking the blankets over my head, my chest heaving, tears leaking into the pillowcase that still smells like him.

There was never any point in getting out of bed today, anyway.