Page 79 of Bought By Sin

For me.

On my behalf.

I wasn’t opening up for the hell of it.

I wasn’t trying to gain his sympathy or be dramatic.

But as I realized how freeing it felt to unload this story, to relinquish the power of my words by talking to him about this, I knew that I was pulling him out of his own dark past. And if I could keep him in the present and lure him out of his personal hell of misery, then I would feel like I’d done something right today.

“I knew they didn’t care about me. No one did. And for so long, I tried to believe that once I ran away and could be free, I would never have to look at anyone and wish for acceptance from them. That when I could be free for the first time, it would be on my own terms, no one else’s.”

I swallowed hard as he cupped my face and stared at me, letting me see the flames of desire in his eyes. “But…” I licked my lips. “But I’ve started to believe that you mean it.”

He searched my face, curling his fingers into my hair. “That I mean what?” It left him as a needy growl.

“That you might mean it when you say that you care… Even though you bought me just the same as anyone else ever has.”

29

LEV

Fuck.

It was happening.

I’d never forget this unexpected moment of walking in to see what was taking her so long to show up for dinner and finding her zoning out and so pensive in the closet.

She was submitting. Maybe not fully, but she was opening up to me. Letting me in. Allowing me to see her.

And I couldn’t stand the pangs of hurt in my heart that came with the idea of her never having anyone in her life. Of always being alone and rejected, sold and bartered off as though she wasn’t an exquisite and strong woman but rather a thing to discard for a sale price.

“I will always mean it, Mila.” I pulled her head down toward mine and relished the soft plumpness of her lips against mine.

I coaxed her to lean into me, kissing her like I’d always need her more than I’d need air.

Brushing my mouth over hers and parting my lips under the insistent press of hers, I let out a growl. Of delight. Of surprise that no matter how many times we kissed, no matter how many times she gave me a chance to explore like this with her, every single time we met in the middle somehow felt more magical and potent than the last.

It was only better each time.

More passionate.

Raw and primitive with a carnal connection I never wanted to sizzle out.

When I touched her—like with my possessive hands on the back of her head and I guided her to straddle me—I felt like I was burning up from the inside out with lust.

When I stroked my tongue alongside hers—like I did now with those low growls of guttural desire—I tasted the pure fire of her interest in me.

But when I shoved her towel out of the way and exposed her for me to see and caress—like what the impatient flick of my fingers resulted in—I relished how she shivered with the excitement of my seeing her. Truly seeing her. And still wanting more.

All the scars that proved she’d had a hard life. All the marks of her most recent endeavor that she bravely stepped up for.

This woman was my siren. My goddess. But she would always be a warrior and survivor first.

She was mine.

“I will always care, Mila,” I growled. “I need you to understand that.”

She licked her lips and stared at me, almost as if she were praying that eyes were the gateways to the soul and I could witness what my words did to her.