Chapter 30
Gideon
Her lips crashed into mine.
Not hesitant. Not testing.
Claiming.
My brain short-circuited. Every thought scattered except one screaming truth: Belle was kissing me. Belle came back. Belle chose this.
My arms moved before conscious thought caught up—wrapped around her waist, hauled her against me. Broken fingers screamed protest. Didn't care. Couldn't stop. She was warm and real and here, and nothing else mattered.
She opened for me. I groaned into her mouth, deepening the kiss, tasting salt from her tears and something sweeter underneath. Desperation. Need. The same hunger that'd been eating me alive since I sent her away.
I kicked backward. The door slammed.
Glass rattled in broken windows. The house held its breath. Everything narrowed to her hands fisting in my shirt, her body pressed flush against mine, her breath mixing with mine in ragged gasps.
I should stop this. Push her away. Tell her to leave before I destroyed what little remained of her freedom.
The words formed. Died unspoken. Because I'd already tried noble. Tried selfless. Tried letting her go for her own good.
And she came back anyway. Not because of the contract. Not because she owed me. Not because loan sharks hunted her or her father needed money or she had nowhere else to turn.
She came back because she wanted to.
The realization hit harder than breaking my hand had. Deeper. More devastating.
I was selfish. Always had been. Took what I wanted without asking, claimed what called to me, possessed what my instincts demanded.
But this?
Belle kissing me first, choosing me willingly, coming back when she could've stayed gone?
That wasn't possession.
That was surrender.
Hers and mine.
I pulled back just enough to see her face—flushed, tear-streaked, beautiful in ways that made my chest crack open. My voice came out wrecked, "You shouldn't have come back."
Her hands tightened in my shirt. "I know."
"I'm not good for you."
"I know that too."
"Belle—"
"Stop." She pressed her forehead against mine. Her breath ghosted across my lips. "Stop trying to protect me from you."
My throat closed. "Someone has to."
"No." Her voice dropped. Fierce. Certain. "Someone has to let me make my own choices. Even the dangerous ones."
Especially the dangerous ones, her eyes said.
