But how could I worry about my untidy clothes, spilled breakfast, and filthy sheets when he was holding out his precious trust on a silver platter after I’d treated him this way?
“Apologize for what?” Haz asked, looking adorably confused.
“For interrupting our conversation to, ah… penetrate you without your consent.”
“You asked for my safe word.”
I made a choked sound. “After I was already fucking you.”
“I liked it.”
“It was abrupt and rough?—”
“I liked that too.”
Frustration made me snap. “Stop staying that.”
Haz fell quiet a moment, then, “Why?”
I gaped at him, incredulous. “You can’t let me off the hook for practically assaulting you.”
His brows furrowed but then smoothed out. “Would you have stopped if I used my safe word?”
“Yes,” I said instantly. I might have behaved barbarically, but I would never ignore a clear no. I’d given him a safe word for a reason. He tested the tight chain of control I held myself on. He challenged me in ways no one ever had.
He shook his head. “Then it wasn’t assault.”
“I yanked your boxers off and shoved my dick inside you,” I said, lewd.
“I was there.”
This little shit.
“Hazard.” I was serious. “I’m trying to apologize for something that was wrong.” He opened his mouth, but I held up my hand. “There is no excuse for my behavior, and I’m not even going to justify my actions with my feelings because yours are more important.” I reached for him, stopping halfway. “Can I touch you?”
He pushed off the bed and climbed into my lap.God, I love this.Having him right there in my arms. The IV line strung out behind him when he draped his arms around my neck.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. I knew I should tell him he could rescind his trust. That heshould. I couldn’t get the damnable words out of my throat. They stuck there like peanut butter on a dry cracker. All I could manage was a paltry, “I hope you can forgive me.”
“I’ll accept your apology on two conditions.”
I nodded, willing to do anything. His attacker’s heart in a box? Done. The deed to this apartment? He could have it. For me to go to therapy for my control issues? It would be hard, but I would agree.
“One,” he said. “Kiss me.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
He puckered his lips, and when I still hesitated, he wiggled them.
Dipping my head, I touched mine to his, and the ridiculous fish face he was making melted with a sigh. He was pillow soft and warm. The faint taste of maple met me when my tongue brushed over his. Fingers climbed the back of my neck, sinking into my hair, and I deepened the kiss immediately, falling into his needy embrace.
I took my time exploring his mouth, changing the direction of the kiss every few minutes so I could taste him completely. He was like putty in my arms, offering no resistance. Compliant and sweet. My heart thudded slowly, and the center of my chest burned. I’d forgotten how much more painful life was than death. How every moment of life hurt in some way, whereas death was just empty.
In the past—hell, just two days ago—I’d have run from the pain. But now, with him in my arms, it made me think perhaps not all pain was bad. Maybe life had to hurt to remind you that you were alive.
Our lips drew apart. Before retreating completely, I kissed him one last time on the tip of the nose.
He smiled, and I hurt again. A hurt I would endure a thousand times over.
