“That’s it, baby. I can feel you clamping down on me.”
I slid my hand between us, circling her clit and pushing her over the edge. She stiffened in my arms, and I felt her cum cover my dick, felt her pussy lock onto my cock. A few more thrusts and I came, roaring out her name.
My head pressed to her shoulder as I tried to catch my breath. As I tried to harness the emotions running through me. The guilt, the fear, the absolute perfect fucking love.
She wiggled her legs, and I let her feet drop to the floor, my dick sliding out of her, leaving me feeling cold and as empty as she was now.
Her hands moved to my waist and went under my shirt before I could stop her. Her fingers swept over the damaged skin before she pushed me back.
“Morgan,” I rasped.
She grabbed my shirt and lifted it. Her eyes focused on my stomach, my scars. I pulled her hands away, letting my shirt fall back down, covering the damaged skin. I stepped back and pulled my pants up as she reached for me. Guilt washed over me at the hurt on her face.
“Morgan,” I whispered.
“What... how...?” Her words were broken; her face filled with confusion.
I was so focused on her face that I didn’t see the fist until it smashed into my nose. She spun away before I could stop her, leaving the bedroom. I followed her to the front door and pushed it closed before she could leave.
“Morgan, let me explain.”
She spun around. I’d expected tears; I’d expected anger. What I didn’t expect was a knee to my balls.
“YOU MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD!”
Hitting the floor, I doubled over in pain so excruciating that I thought I was dying all over again. But it was nothing compared to the feeling that had roared in my chest when that asshole put his hands on my wife.
Nothing compared to the pain I saw in her eyes when she realized who I was. That I was alive. That I’d lied to her. Left her alone to grieve our son.
I deserved the broken nose and the broken balls. But I prayed she’d let me explain. Let me grovel and beg for her forgiveness.
I hadn’t lied to Justin when I told him I’d planned to leave tomorrow morning. I’d watched her for a week. Made sure she wasn’t in danger. Told myself she was better off without me.
But when I saw David’s hands on her, something snapped. And when her lips were on mine... when I tasted her again after so many years of living without... the hole in my soul filled in.
Morgan was the love of my life.
My reason for living.
My truly better half.
I couldn’t walk away again. I couldn’t go back to Arkansas and pretend my life was better without her in it. The truth was, I didn’t have a life without her in it.
For seven goddamn years, I’d been existing. I might not have died, like I’d led her to believe, but my life ended the day that warehouse exploded. The day I made the decision to leave my wife and let her move on without me.
Only, she hadn’t moved on.
She didn’t find someone new, get married, or have more children. She wasn’t really living any more than I was. She might not have known it, but she was waiting for me. It might takesome serious reparations, but Morgan Delany-Peterson wasn’t just my wife.
She was my fucking life.
Chapter Ten
Morgan
Jude dropped to his knees and groaned. He hadn’t said a word—not that he could, writhing in pain and gasping for breath on the floor. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.
Earlier, I’d been afraid that my delusion would bring tears when I woke up from whatever dream I thought I was having. Now, instead, it brought anger as I stared at the man I loved and fumed.
