I can almost see the small boy waking to an emptier house, realizing the only buffer between him and his father’s rage had disappeared.
“That night was the worst beating. He said it was my fault she left.” Gabe’s hand moves unconsciously to his ribs. “Three broken ribs, dislocated shoulder. I remember lying on the kitchen floor, unable to move, thinking I’ll never be powerless again.”
The vulnerability in his voice makes my chest ache. Without thinking, I reach up and touch his face, water dripping from my fingers onto his shirt.
My hand cups his cheek, my thumb catching a single tear he probably doesn’t even realize has escaped. The vulnerability in his expression makes my heart contract painfully. This man, who drugged me, who chased me through the woods, who has killed—suddenly I see the broken boy beneath the monster.
“Come here,” I whisper, tugging him gently toward me.
Gabe hesitates, then slides into the bathtub with his suit pants still on. Water sloshes over the rim as he pulls me against his chest. I rest my head in the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse hammer beneath my cheek.
We stay like that, neither speaking, as the bathwater cools around us. His arms tighten when I shiver.
“We should get out,” I murmur against his skin.
He nods but doesn’t move, like he’s afraid breaking contact will shatter whatever fragile understanding has formed between us. Finally, he stands, water streaming from his sodden clothes. He helps me up and wraps me in a towel, his movements careful, almost reverent.
In the bedroom, he peels off his wet pants while I dry myself. The silence between us has transformed into something different—not the charged hostility from before, not the frantic passion in the forest, but a raw honesty.
I find one of his T-shirts and pull it over my head. When I turn, he’s watching me with an expression I’ve never seen before—uncertainty mixed with something like wonder.
“I understand why you need control,” I say quietly. “I understand why pain makes sense to you.”
Gabe sits heavily on the edge of the bed, naked and suddenly looking exhausted. I move to stand between his knees, my fingers tentatively threading through his damp hair. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against my stomach.
“The darkness within me has been there all along,” I whisper. “I just couldn’t understand it until now.”
His arms wrap around my waist, holding me like I’m something precious rather than possessed. I feel his shoulders shake once, twice, and I hold him tighter, cradling his head against me.
Gabe lifts his head from my stomach, eyes finding mine. The predator is gone—or perhaps just at rest—and in its place is something I’ve never seen in him before. Vulnerability. Need. Something dangerously close to reverence.
He rises slowly, cupping my face in his hands. When his lips meet mine, the kiss is different from anything we’ve shared before. Not the bruising possession from the forest or the demanding hunger from his office. This is achingly tender, devastatingly sweet. My knees weaken as his tongue slides gently against mine, exploring rather than claiming.
I melt against him, my hands trailing up his chest to his shoulders. His skin is warm beneath my fingertips, heartbeat strong and steady. He tastes like pine and earth and something uniquely him that I’ve become addicted to.
“Let me make love to you,” he whispers against my lips.
The request—so unlike his usual commands—makes my heart stutter. I nod, unable to find words as he guides me backward until my legs hit the mattress.I lie down, watching as he moves above me, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, pushing the oversized T-shirt up my body. “My perfect girl.”
I open for him like a flower turning toward sunlight, thighs parting in invitation. When he enters me, it’s with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes me gasp. He fills me completely, perfectly, his forehead pressed against mine as he begins to move.
“That’s it,” he growls, his mouth at my ear. “Take all of me. Christ, you feel so fucking good, so tight around my cock.”
But his hands are gentle as they stroke my hair, my face, my breasts. His rhythm steadies, deep and thorough, but without the punishing force from before. I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper, losing myself in the pleasure building between us.
“Look at me,” he commands softly. When I meet his gaze, something primal passes between us. “There you are. Stay with me.”
26
GABE
Iwake to sunlight streaming through the cabin windows and Amelia’s warm body curled against mine. Her breathing is deep and steady; her face relaxed in sleep. Last night changed something between us—revealed layers within me that I hadn’t known existed. I brush a strand of hair from her face, memorizing how her lashes fan against her cheeks.
She stirs as I slip from bed, murmuring something unintelligible before settling back into the pillows. In the kitchen, I pull eggs and bacon from the refrigerator, moving quietly through the familiar space. The normality of the moment strikes me as absurd—twenty-four hours ago, I was chasing her through these woods.
The coffee maker gurgles as I whisk eggs with a splash of cream. Muscle memory takes over, my hands working through the motions while my mind replays last night—her surrender in the forest, her softening in the bathtub, the way she held me after. I can’t remember the last time someone saw me break.
