Page 79 of Fallen Crown

He eases me down on top of the foam cushions on the floor, and he slants his body over mine while his fingers begin their brand of magic. “Maren,” he groans. “You’re so wet for me.”

“Stop it,” I say. “Just call me Tucker.”

“No,” he says as he slips a finger inside me. “Not until I convince you that whether I call you Maren or Tucker or Maren Tucker, I want all of you. The good and the bad. The happy and the sad. I want it all.”

More pretty words, but I’m so high on a cloud of intense physical pleasure that I let his words seep over me, sink into my unconscious to be dissected later. No matter what he says in this moment, I understand the truth. We’re temporary. Today I am his favorite, but when the race is over, it may very well be someone else.

At the first swipe of his tongue against my core, I can’t think straight, don’t want to. I clutch his shoulder with one hand and the sleeping bag underneath me with the other, and I let myself get swept away.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Brice

The sunrise is creeping in through the curtains, and Maren is beside me, still sleeping. After I confessed I’d known for a while about her miscarriage, a frost crept in between us. While I tried to thaw it with my tongue and hands and multiple orgasms, she fell asleep curled away from me, unwilling to talk.

At least now she’s snuggled up beside me with her head touching my shoulder as though I didn’t ruin what might have otherwise been a critical moment between us. Maybe I should have sealed my mouth shut. But I’d kept that truth to myself longer than I normally would, and it felt wrong to have her confide in me and not confess in return. The number of times hindsight has bitten me on the ass should have told me this would be the outcome. Of course she’d see it as some kind of betrayal, and I can’t blame her. My initial motivation was… not good.

When I look at her now with her dark hair partly concealing her face, I can’t even remember how I used to feel, who the guy was who asked Posey for intimate details I had no right to seek. She was hurting, and she was sad. Now that those same emotions live in me, I understand why she’d have looked at my seemingly carefree lifestyle and scoffed.

Since my father died, it has amazed me that anyone can walk around upright with that loss draped over them, an invisible weight. Without Tucker, I’d be stooped over with it, struggling to cope. I imagine losing a child, even one you never met, would have a similar impact. To face that alone must have been crushing.

When Tucker stirs beside me, I run my hand along her back as a test, and rather than moving away, she scooches closer.

“You’re so warm,” she murmurs.

I kiss her temple, and I decide to give her a truth I glossed over yesterday. “I got my first tattoo in a fit of rebellion. Mom and Dad gave Nick and Alex a speech about being respectful and respectable. They didn’t talk to me. I thought someone would care when they found out. But no one did, and so I just continued. Each one more outrageous.”

She opens one eye to peek at me, and then she crosses her arms to lay her cheek against them. There’s a hint of amusement in her blue depths. “Did I ever tell you that I can speak and read Mandarin?”

“Never came up, actually.” I release a deep sigh. “That one was a mistake for obvious reasons.”

“What was it supposed to say?”

“Live free. Die young.”

“Brice.” She shoves my shoulder.

“It was on my back, and Nick and I were drunk.” I kiss her temple again. “I’m surprised you didn’t go for the jugular on that months ago. It literally says, ‘translation error.’ Might as well read World’s Biggest Dumbass.”

“Too easy,” she says with a sly smile.

A comfortable silence settles between us, which is surprising, but I’m fucking grateful she doesn’t seem to hate me this morning. I was certain I’d be navigating the trust mountain all over again.

“Will you tell me about your accident?” I trace a line down her shoulder and along her bare back. The space heaters have made this hut toasty warm, but I’m waiting for the chill to hit with my request.

“You don’t want to call Posey and ask her? I’m sure she could tell you all about it.”

I lick my finger and draw an imaginary line in the air. “Point for Maren Tucker.”

She stares at me for a beat with her jaw tight, and if I had to guess, there’s an internal battle waging in her about how far she wants to push me away over my mistake. “I don’t want to trade points or keep score. You shouldn’t have gone behind my back, and once you did, you should have told me you knew.”

“Finding out was an error in judgment. One I regretted almost immediately.” I mirror her pose, leaning my cheek against my arms to stare into her eyes. “I wanted you to decide if I truly deserved to know, so I never said a word.”

She fiddles with an edge of the foam mat we’re lying on, and I’m certain she’s determined I’m not worthy. I can have her body but the rest I don’t deserve.

“I didn’t know I was pregnant,” she whispers. “Whenever I go into intense training mode, my cycle gets all weird. In the helicopter—the bleeding—I didn’t realize what it was. At the hospital, once I knew, it was…” She shakes her head, and her voice is thick with tears. “Up until then, I wasn’t even sure I wanted a baby. Isn’t that stupid? I spiraled over the loss of something I wasn’t even sure I wanted.”

I rest my hand on her arm, and she lays her cheek on top of it.