I groaned and dragged a dizzying breath into my lungs, pulling away from him, pressing back, his touch beyond anything I could fathom, eclipsing thought, erasing reason.
Dark, dark pleasure blinded my eyes, indecent and decadent, and I clawed at the wood.
“You’re never gonna forget me, Shea.” Another threat. “Never.”
Every part of me tightened, that thrill swelling full and fast. Lifting me higher.
When in reality, I was falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Until I finally hit the bottom.
Shattering.
Splintering.
Breaking completely apart.
Bliss spread far and wide, fragmenting out, saturating every cell in my being.
His name. His name. His name.
On a grunt, he jerked and he cried out mine, gripping me almost painfully, taking me as deeply as he could as his body shook with his release.
I could feel the tremor of his muscles, the power of his being, consuming me.
And there was no stopping them, the words that fought to be said. “I love you.” It tumbled from me as a small cry, no longer able to hold it back.
He froze, and my pulse dipped and thudded. So slow. Too loud. A weight bore down on me as I felt every intrinsic part of him detaching.
“Sebastian.” It was a plea made up of fear. I told him I didn’t have time for distractions. But more than that, I had no time for games. I hadn’t played them with him before and I refused to start now.
He needed to know.
Without a response, he pulled out and readjusted my skirt.
Covering me in the moment I was most exposed.
And that emotion was back, pressing firm and fast, squeezing brutally at my chest.
He stepped back, and I could hear him ridding himself of the condom, tossing it in the bin at the wall, wrestling with his jeans.
Tears resurfaced in my eyes, and I struggled to get my camisole up as my mind raced to catch up with the quick, deadly shift in his mood.
I flung around to face him. “Say something,” I demanded, though even to me, it sounded weak.
In the dim light, he stared back at me, all of those hard, hard scars evident in his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Shea? You want me to lie to you? Make you promises I can’t keep?”
Frantically, I shook my head. “No.”
“Then what?”
Wincing, I jerked my head down and to the side, as if it could avert his blows, the harshness behind his words.
“How about the truth?” he continued, taking a looming step forward. “You want that? Did you not get enough of it tonight? Seeing those girls? Do you have any clue about the kind of life I live?”
My attention flew back to him. “Show me,” I begged, my voice cracking. I couldn’t help bringing us back to that night, when he’d dared me to see him, when I’d already accepted there was no looking away.
Sharp, cutting laughter rocked from him. “You don’t want to see that life. Now that’s something I can promise you.” He pointed to the kitchen door behind him. “Did you look me up while you hid out in there?” It was almost an accusation, and I recoiled at the bitterness he spat from his mouth.
That pretty, pretty mouth that I loved and adored.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
“Did you see, Shea? Did you see that in a couple of months I’m probably going back to jail? Did you see I’ve been there before?” Grief hitched his breath. “Did you know my best friend died because of me?”
I flinched with every spouted reason he gave for me to hate him, for me to take back my admission. I backed farther into the table, shoulders up to my ears as if it could protect me from the agony he seemed intent on bringing us both.
He promised he would wreck me.
When did I stop believing him?
“You want your daughter around someone like me?”
That one hit me hard, and those tears I’d been trying to keep in check fell, uncontrolled. “Someone like you?” I asked, incredulous, pushing back. “Someone who makes her smile and laugh? Someone who listens to her like a four-year-old has the most important things to say? Someone who steps up to protect her mother? Someone like that?”