I knew she was angry. The colour in her cheeks and glitter in her eyes hinted at her rage. I felt her temper building as surely as I felt the small eddies of natural thermals in the water.
I nodded, bracing for punishment.
But she didn’t move.
We just stared and breathed and tried to understand each other’s betrayal.
My lips tingled for hers. My cock wept for her body. And my heart…shit my heart begged to unlock and let her own it.
“I forgive you,” she finally whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
That one phrase cleaved me in two, and for the first time in my life, I broke. I wanted to fucking cry over a lifetime of misuse. Over a childhood I’d never been able to enjoy and an adulthood I’d never been able to embrace.
I wanted to fucking kill for what I still had to do and for what I had become.
I should slip beneath the water and take my own life. I was done fighting. Done pretending.
If I could’ve saved her by ending my struggles, I would have.
I would’ve sacrificed all I fucking knew to save her.
Licking my bottom lip, my eyes fell to her mouth.
There was just too much to say. Too many hurts to uncover and I didn’t have the strength.
Not yet.
Nila floated before me, her breath hitching as I gently captured her hips and dragged her weightless body against mine.
Her eyes flared; her body bowstring tight.
Her fingers dug into my cheeks, holding me at a distance but not struggling to swim away.
My hands burned where I held her. I was grateful she let me touch her at all. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more.
Lowering my head, I tore past her anger and searched for the emotion from the polo match.
I needed to see I hadn’t destroyed what I’d witnessed that day. Slowly, it appeared—floating to the surface of her eyes, blazing true.
She still cared for me.
After all that I’d done.
Fuck, I’m a monster.
Guilt crushed my chest, spinning rapidly with body-melting desire.
“Kiss me, Nila,” I whispered. “Let me bring you back to life.”
The water waked as she jolted. Her hands landed on my chest, tensing to push me away.
I shuddered as her fingertips scrunched my shirt.
Then, instead of pushing me, she pulled me.
Her hand slinked up around my neck, tugging my mouth to hers.
I sucked in a breath.
And she obeyed.
EVERY INCH OF me hurt.
My lungs were battered and bruised; my throat raw and raspy. My head pounded and throbbed. Every time I breathed, it seemed as if my ribcage had one purpose in life: to stab my heart to death.
I was alive…and paying the price.
Drowning wasn’t fun.
Being drowned multiple times, even less so.
I never wanted to go near water again.
Yet you’re in a pool with Jethro.
You’re in a pool kissing Jethro.
My mind hurt trying to understand how he’d destroyed me in water, yet healed me in the same substance.
Cruel then comforting.
Murderous then reviving.
Two sides to everything—not evil or good or even aware of its perception. Just a single entity being used in different ways.
Water could be an enemy, but also a lover.
Could the same be true for Jethro?
His lips slid against mine. Wet and warm and gentle.
He didn’t force me. He didn’t try to control the kiss I’d given him.
And for that I was grateful.
I took my time. Tasting him—tasting his regret.
I did my utmost to swim deep into his soul where the truth just waited to be found. I needed to know what he suffered from. I had to find out if I wanted to remain living.
His head twisted, changing the direction of the kiss so our bodies danced closer. The tip of his tongue licked my bottom lip, shooting a ripple of lust into my belly.
I had to trust in him. Trust in this. Had to believe. Had to hope.
Opening my mouth, I welcomed his tongue inside. Licking him, encouraging him, giving into the dark and dangerous undercurrent flowing between us.
He groaned, gathering me closer. Pulling back, he clasped my cheeks with his large hands. “I want you to know.”
My damaged heart fluttered. I didn’t speak, but I knew my question glowed in my eyes.
Know what?
He sighed. His chiselled cheekbones and dark brows made him look guilty and sorrowful all at once. His thick eyelashes shadowed stunning eyes and his lips—they promised to be the perfect drug to make me forget about my pain.
In the hazy steamy world, I saw how tightly reined he was. His soul didn’t just have shadows—it had holes. Holes that might never be stitched together again.
He was heir to an empire worth untold millions. He was smart, capable, and strong. In hindsight, it was inevitable that I would fall for him. How could I not? It was almost a relief to admit that I stood no chance against his spell.
But if he’d ensnared me, then I’d ensnared him.
He suffered the same conflict.
Jethro brushed a thumb over my lips, his touch trembling softly. “You make me better even while making me worse.”
My throat tightened, triggering the soreness from previous screaming. The tattoo on my fingertip burned as if recognising he was my other half—whether I wanted it or not.
In so many ways, Jethro was old beyond his years, yet so young at the same time.
“You need to tell me,” I murmured. “Let me understand.”
“Can’t you understand that I’ve been fucked up ever since I first texted you? I’m insane, but you’re the only cure for my insanity.”
My heart thundered. The first verbal admission that he was Kite.
It was more than he’d given me before, but it wasn’t enough.
“I’m listening and not judging.” I couldn’t stop myself from adding, “And you made me the same way. I’m mad over you, Jethro. You have to give in.”
With a blended noise of frustration and grief, he kissed me again, twisting my thoughts with an eager tongue. I wasn’t strong enough to stay firm while he was determined to sweep me away. The kiss distracted me from what he’d said, what I wanted him to say. Despite myself, I mirrored him, massaging his tongue with mine, strengthening our desire.