Page 68 of Death Kiss

‘We can’t keep hiding in each other, baby,’ I say, wiping her tears with my thumb. ‘I can’t fuck you like we have been after what happened this weekend, not without talking to you first. Every time something breaks one of us, we hide from it. What happened, or nearly happened, this weekend is serious. I need to know you’re okay.’

Her brow furrows, wet lashes sticking together. ‘Do you not want me after seeing him touch me?’

‘God, no. Kat.’ The words come out strangled, and I brush my fingers over her jaw, staring into those sweet blue eyes. ‘You are the single most precious person in the universe. What that monster did to you doesn’t change that. Nothing could ever change that. I will burn for your touch until the day I die, and still beyond. But we have time. All the time in the world to get back to this. I know what it’s like, and I don’t want you to feel how I felt by having to do things too soon.’

Kat’s fingers lace between mine on her cheek. ‘I need you. I can’t have him be the last person who touched me. I can’t. It needs to be my choice.’

A part of my heart breaks for my girl, but I know I can do that for her. With her.

‘Promise that you’ll stay with me.’

She nods and pulls me into a kiss that’s still as needy, but in a softer way. We take our time, me still inside her, but kissing through the pain for a long time before I slowly begin to rock my hips.

‘Look at me,’ I demand. Her eyes open, flicking to mine and holding there as I scoop to fill her fully. A sweet gasp tumbles from her lips, her mouth parting as pleasure starts to fill the broken parts of us. ‘That’s it, Princess. Look at you. Perfection.’

KAT

Liam holds me so tenderly that it breaks my heart all over again. What did I do to deserve him?

My tears still trickle, but it’s not fear or sadness now. It feels like a cleansing. A much-needed reconnection with my man.

‘I love you,’ he murmurs, kissing his way down my neck. ‘All of you. And no matter what happens to the flesh, my heart will always beat for you.’

Liam grunts as he rolls us over, pinning me beneath his weight, thick muscles corded in his arms.

‘Your ribs,’ I say, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he tips my hips to spread me wide for him.

‘Ribs be damned, my girl needs me,’ he says. The pain is at the edge of his words, but when he gives me a thrust so long and deep and slow, I forget all about it.

My breath catches with each deep stroke. Every circle of his hips makes me see new heights. Beyond even the more dangerous games we play. It’s been so long since we had raw, emotional sex, and I pull his face to mine to lose myself in his lips.

‘I’ve got you,’ he says when I begin to tremble. ‘You’re safe.’

‘Liam,’ I moan. Sweat slicks between us, heat rolling with the pleasure, building until I can’t tell where I end and he begins. I trace my fingers over his back, mapping every dip and scar, committing every inch of him to memory.

Then he tips his glorious dick so his piercing hits me just right, and I lose control. I come panting into his mouth, the orgasm ripping through me with an intensity that has me whimpering. My thighs grip tight around him, and he gives a pained cry, but doesn’t slow his deliciously deep strokes until he falls over the edge with me.

I adore the way his back ripples and tenses. The way he groans fuck with such a deeply low tone that it vibrates through us both.

‘Never doubt how much I’m obsessed with you, my love. You’re my endgame. No matter what.’

‘And you’re my universe,’ I whisper, kissing him and enjoying the way his cock still twitches deep inside me.

When he slides from my body, I almost demand he puts himself right back in there. Until he slips down the bed, clutching his side and settles between my thighs.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

‘Cleaning up my mess.’

THIRTY-ONE

KAT

The grandfather clock ticks idly in the corner, cutting through the silence. My mother and father sit on one ancient sofa across from Liam and me, a tray of tea accoutrements untouched on the low table between us.

At least my bruises are faded enough that they can be hidden with concealer, just the faintest yellowing to cover. Liam looks mostly back to normal too, other than the still-healing fresh scars he’s picked up from his fight.

I shiver at the thought of him in that pit, fighting for this bloody house so we can keep our well a secret. And that’s assuming Ashworth doesn’t track down who we are. Or Freddie.