“But you’d still want to hurt me?”
“I would. I’d wrap my hand around this pretty little neck.” He loosely holds my throat. “Force you to your knees until those shiny jewels stream down your face while you choke.”
“You don’t want me to be in real pain. You want me to enjoy it. Don’t judge this,us, by other people’s standards when we’re trying to change the world to make sense for us.”
“I want to chase you again,” he groans, pulsing his fingers around my neck. “You’ve always had a thing about being scared. I swear you even smell different. The first time I put on themask, you fell on the driveway. It was so fucking hard not to push my face between your legs to taste you.” He grips my throat tighter as his eyes darken. “Who did you prefer?”
“Ghost,” I answer without thought. “He made me feel seen. I wasn’t crazy or confused. I could breathe even though you were chasing me.”
“Who do you prefer now?”
“You.”
He abruptly bucks his hips, flipping me onto my back without letting go of my neck. Resting his left elbow beside my head, he bites my bottom lip. I moan at the sting coming from someone who isn’t doing it to amuse themselves with my pain. He gives me pain because we both need it. I want to be worthless, so there’s no reason for anyone to use me.
And he needs to feel powerful.
So we give each other what’s missing from every other aspect of our lives.
“I love you,” he whispers against my stinging lip. “I love you so fucking much I’ll kill you before I ever let you go. But I’ll follow you so our last breaths are taken at the same time.”
“Prove it,” I goad. “Show me all of you.”
“You’ve seen it all.”
“No, I haven’t. You’ve been hiding behind your hoodies.”
He stills but I don’t look away from him.
“Show me my husband,” I whisper against his jaw before softly pressing my lips to the spot. “You said I was your god. Obey me, prove your devotion.”
“You remember?”
“I remember everything. I remember how you woke me up, how you promised to beg for my forgiveness. I’m in a merciful mood, so strip yourself bare for me to grant it.” I slowly push my hand under his hoodie and trail my fingers up his ribs. “You’ve seen all of my scars, Kane. Show me yours.”
The air is pushed out of my lungs as he drops his full weight on me, trapping me under him with my arm awkwardly bent. Burying his face in my neck, he whispers, “I don’t want you to be repulsed by me.”
“Never,” I promise, kissing his shoulder.
I don’t think he’s going to move until he abruptly turns on his back, swings his legs over the bed, then sits up, facing the window. His breathing is harsh as he lifts his hips, roughly pulling his sweats down, kicking them off his feet. But removing his hoodie is slower.
I kneel at his back, waiting for him to move. Shuffling my knees back, I lower my head as I slowly peel the hem of his hoodie up, allowing my lips to meet his bare skin. I don’t remove it fully, only enough so he knows I’m not going anywhere.
New scars cut through the tattoos on his back, some deep and distorting the ink, others thick and raised. His chest quakes as he takes in a deep breath before clumsily pulling his right arm through his sleeve. I follow the exposed skin with my lips until I reach his shoulder then wait.
I’m not going to help him unless he asks me to. Or once he’s comfortable, we can go back to the normal expectation of crazed undressing. Right now, he has towantto show me. Wrapping my arms around him, I flatten my hands on his abs so he can see I’m not forcing him or running away, but I can feel the scars rippling over his muscles.
He leans forward to pull his hoodie off his head then drags it down, so it covers from his left elbow down. With my lips on his shoulder, I whisper, “I’m not going anywhere. I love you, baby.”
“Why?” he whispers back, even lower.
I rest my chin on his shoulder, pressing our cheeks together. “Because you’ve never taken more than I willingly gave you—as yourself. All I have ever wanted is to give you all of me. Even when you hated me, you cared about me. You could have slit mythroat in my sleep, but you let me sleep on your chest. You could have turned your back on me, but you found me. It’s always been you, Kane. In my head, my heart, where it matters, it’s you.”
He drags in a pained breath as he closes his eyes.
“I love you,” I say softly. “It doesn’t matter how you look or what you’ve done, I love you. Selfishly, hopelessly, and damned. Maybe I should hate you for everything, but the truth is I don’t blame you when I know how manipulation and abuse alter a person.”
There’s a lump in my throat, preventing me from bringing up that I know what he’s been through. If someone told me my dreams were real before I remembered for myself, I would have run further away from the truth. I can’t force him to speak about something when he’s not ready. It’s not even needed when everything else we’ve been through is so horrific that he—Ghost—doesn’t make the top ten list of worst shit to happen to me. He’s fully entwined in every good, honest moment of my life. He’s never asked for me to forgive him, ignored his wrongs, or framed them as being righteous. True remorse is changed actions, which he’s doing every day without me asking him.
