“Dead.”
“Karma.”
“No. Karma had nothing to do with it. That was all me.”
She pauses, looking up at me for the first time since we got back into bed. “You? You mean you?—”
“Killed him. Yeah.”
She tilts her head. “Did it… give you what you needed? Did it help?”
“For a bit,” I admit. “It was… freeing, I guess. I’d never killed anyone before. I wasn’t even sure I could do it. Wearing the badge means I’m supposed to trust the system to take care of the criminals. But I didn’t get justice.Emilydidn’t get justice. So I took it upon myself to get it for her. But after…”
The anger came back in full swing. Worse, because when I took that life, I paid a price. The cost of my soul, payable to Axel Donovan.
Grace settles back onto my chest. “So now you’re all… deep breaths and blades.”
I snort. “And punching bags.”
“Right. For what it’s worth, what you did? It was the right thing. It was justice.”
I tilt up her chin and kiss her. It’s long and drawn out, and I almost can’t manage to pull my lips from hers.
She makes it easier to take in air, to pull oxygen into my lungs. It’s a problem. Because this isjust sex. Nothing. Which means eventually, it’ll be another thing I lose.
And I’m so fucking tired of losing.
24
I yawnand stretch my hand across the mattress, reaching for the man beside me. But all I find are cold sheets and empty space.
Bleary eyes cracked open, I search for him amongst the mounds of pillows, the fluffy peaks of his duvet still swallowing me, but there’s no warm, muscled body. No Decker.
After one more big stretch, I push up. His room is dark, but light filters in from the edges of his blackout blinds, and the smell of coffee is doing a good job convincing me I should get out of bed.
Waking up here is weird. Mostly because people who are just fucking don’t do this. They don’t cuddle. And they don’t talk about committing murder or bad dreams or dead girlfriends.
Not like I haven’t wanted to stay before last night, I just wouldn’t ever dare ask. I can just picture it. That cocky little grin sliding up his face, the understanding that he’s got me, that he won.Beg, Gracie.It’s all fun and games when I’m naked and begging for him to let me come, but I can only guess it’d be far less enjoyable to beg him to let me stay.
Last night, he was so close to begging. But I couldn’t stomach the idea of letting him. After the initial shock of him throwing me back and waking from that nightmare, after his anger started to ease and my wariness leaked away, I saw it. I sawhim. The pain and vulnerability written on his face. Heard that little crack in his voice when he saidplease, Grace.Don’t go. He’d have begged. But the win wouldn’t have felt all that good.
I’m not sure when we started keeping score. Somewhere between when I got my face smashed against a cruiser door and the moment I stood in his kitchen, threatening to ruin his life. I just know that I’m tired of it.
Except for the sex part.
I will happily sit on Decker’s dick like I did last night, staving off my own orgasm for the sole purpose of torturing him. We’ve made a sport out of it. As competitive as I am, it’s a game I don’t mind losing. Decker between my thighs, his body tight to mine, those gorgeous eyes staring down at me. Yeah, I could get lost in that for hours. Idoget lost in that for hours.
But I’ve caught myself getting lost in other things too. The warmth of his arms, that easy laugh, the way he growls out my name. In those moments, when I’m lying on his chest, tracing over that scar, the tattoo, listening to the beat of his heart slow, stretching out our time together, I feel completely at ease. Safe.
I roll out of bed, pull on my underwear, and rifle through Decker’s closet. When I find a tattered burgundy McMaster U crewneck, I pull it on. Then I pad into the kitchen. It’s empty, as are the bathroom and living room.
“Linc?” I call out as I peek out the front window. His truck is in the driveway.
I’m about to grab my phone to text him when I see the note sitting on the counter.
Had to step out.
Made the coffee extra strong. Sugar is beside the stove.
