“You’re starting to piss me off,” I blurt. “Breadcrumbs don’t mean shit if they’re overlooked! Breadcrumbs didn’t throw her off me, they didn’t cut my zip ties or carry me out of the house before I caught fire. They didn’t strip off my clothes and rinse the gasoline from my skin. They didn’t hold my hair when I threw up, they didn’t call an ambulance, and they certainly didn’t take the fall for that fire! You act like you just stood by and watched from a distance. You were with me every step of the way. You paid attention to every sign I left without hesitation—you took action, andthat’swhy I’m alive.”
I push up on my knees and press my forehead to his. He palms my hips, his large hands heavy with intent. He doesn’t pull away this time—he leans in. His touch sends warmth to the parts of me numbed by dejection.
“You saved me.”
The tension leaves his body on an exhale, and he’s finally letting go of whatever stupid guilt he’s allowed to fester since we returned home. “Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?”
He chuckles. “That’s all I have right now.”
“Is it?”
I lace my fingers behind his neck and squeeze three times.
The last time he’d done that to me was while tending to my injuries in a bathtub. It was so affectionate and tender that it made me question if I had actually heard him utter the words aloud.
For years he’s given me assurances on the back of my neck. However, it wasn’t until the other day that I understood their meaning. He didn’t save his love for last, he gave it to me before our lips ever brushed. Logan has always spoken with his hands, and he’s been giving his quiet love for years.
Our gaze tangles together, and we regard each other in silence; the anticipation has me holding my breath. We’re both thinking it, but I want to hear him say it.
He inhales slowly, letting his touch drift from my hips, up my back, and finally clasping my neck like he’s done a million times before, but this time it’s different. His gruff exhale makes me smile. He knows what I want, and I’m calling his bluff. A smile crosses his lips—it’s subtle, but it’s there, filled with relief and reverence.
His voice is low and gruff, masculine and steady. “I love you.”
The confession takes my breath away. Like he’s been holding it right behind his teeth for years and finally can let it out. “I love you too.”
His throat bobs once before he brings his lips to mine.
Our kiss is hungry. I steady her hands, and her mouth grows impatient against mine. I draw back just enough to take in her swollen lips and blown pupils. To see the way her half-lidded gaze begs me not to stop. “You sure?”
She nods and pulls me back in. Her kiss is rough, like she’s been waiting for me to stop being so gentle and love her in ways that are raw, dark, and brutal.
Stripping off my shirt and sweats, I toss them behind us, but I’m much more careful while removing hers. Lifting the hem of her shirt reveals the deep-purple bruise that blooms near her ribs. I hate that bruise. Normally I like seeing her marked up, but the ones I leave on her come from a place of love and respect . . . These aren’t mine, they stem from violence.
I swallow down the anxiety rising in my throat as I take in her wounds, trusting her enough to not blame myself.
She rushes to slip her arms out of the sleeves. “Slow down,” I say with a chuckle. “If you end up more injured because you’re too turned on, your doctors are gonna blame me first.”
“They saw what you look like,” she says, grinning. “They’ll understand.”
“Maybe I want to take my time with you.”
Kelly bites her lip, filling her hands with her lavish tits and digging her black nails into the soft flesh.Fuck.
I catch her wrist and yank her into me, rougher than I probably should. Our mouths join together, and a growl spills from my chest as my tongue claims hers. She claws at the waistband of my boxers, shoving them down so she can wrap her fingers around my cock. Goddamn. I’m thick and heavy in her palm as she strokes me, spreading the bead of pre-cum down to the base. My need to be inside her ratchets higher with each heavy breath that escapes from her lips. Hooking my thumbs into her underwear, I drag them over her ass and down her thighs until there’s nothing between us.
I guide her to lie on her side, then settle in behind and snake my arm under her neck. My other hand rests in the dip of her waist. The way my body protectively curves behind hers eases the tightness in my chest.
She’s in my arms, safe. I sweep her hair over her shoulder and let my mouth brush across the birthmark on the back of her neck. “I love you,” I breathe. Damn, it feels good to say those words out loud, but it’s nothing compared to hearing her echo them back.
I’m conscious of her injuries and that I can’t be too rough. “Tell me if it hurts,” I whisper against her bare skin. She nods, then pushes her perfect little ass into my hips. She feels what she’s doing to me.
“Greedy girl,” I mutter.
“You love it."
I chuckle, gripping her waist firmer—territorial, yet tender. She’s still bruised and healing, but the ache in me rages against the instinct to take her in a way that shows everyone who she belongs to. I don’t want anyone to ever think they can take what’s mine again.
