Savior (The Kingwood Duet #2)

“I’m sorry.” He’s on his feet in an instant.

“No. You will never apologize again. Do you hear me? You did nothing wrong. Nothing.” He cups my face and looks me straight in the eyes. “You did everything right. Everything you should have done from healing yourself with time, to carrying our baby inside you. I love you even more for that. He wielded the damage. You did everything you could to protect our baby.” The kiss to my forehead lingers, and I feel safe, almost free from the guilt strangling me since I woke up in the hospital.

My hands slide up his neck, and I love being this close again. “I never stopped loving you, Alexander.”

“I know.” He kisses me—really kisses me—and I’m finally home. We are home. “I never stopped loving you, either.”

When we need air, I pull back, my hands sliding up his neck. He presses his head to mine.

Dipping lower, he helps me undress and then undresses himself. He steps under the shower spray, and I see the tension ease from his shoulders. With his hand out to me, he coaxes, “Join me. It feels so good.”

Tentatively, I step in under the water with him. “Ahh,” I moan, relaxing in the warmth. “So good.”

Taking a bar of soap, he rubs it across my back and then lower. “How does that feel?”

“Heavenly.” I love that I’ll smell of his soap. The clean scent makes me feel better.

Kisses cover the curve from my neck to my shoulder, my body cherished by his hand and his lips simultaneously. My heart beats faster, loud enough for me to worry that it might echo. If he listens carefully, he’ll hear it beating just for him. One hand slides around my waist until his palm spans my stomach with a gentle pressure as he pulls me closer, my back against him. His hardness is pressed to me and I close my eyes remembering how good we were together and how much I missed the connection we’ve shared. He whispers, “You’re so tempting, torturously tempting.”

Lost to the lust building inside, I say, “Maybe we can.”

“No, the doctors were clear, but,” he says, his hand going lower between my legs, “it doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel better.”

My breathing becomes ragged, already heavy in my chest, quickening the more he touches me. He lowers his forehead to my shoulder, and I caress him. His own breath blows across my wet skin, and he follows with kisses while his fingers pick up the pace. “Alexander,” I whisper, the name lost under the sounds of the water and his breath.

The way my body coils reminds me of how tender my insides are, but I don’t have the strength to stop him. He feels too good. His body curls around mine and I know he needs this too. Slowly, I turn around and kiss him on his chest. Taking his erection in my hand, I slide up and down his length. When I open my eyes, his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. His swallows laden as he struggles to restrain himself. It seems he will never understand that it’s a turn-on when he lets go of the control he’s so desperate to hold on to and gives into me.

His fingers circle and rub, tease, and taunt. My head falls back, resting against the glass as I hold in my moans by biting my bottom lip. His voice is strained when he says, “We shouldn’t.”

“Are you able to stop? I’m not.”

“Fuck, Sara Jane. I missed you.” Thrusting into my hand, I let him fuck how he needs, wishing he were inside me. His hips move erratically, and when he comes, I let him cover me.

Dilated, lustful eyes narrow in on me and his hand picks up where he had paused. Closing my eyes, I’m lost in euphoria, feeling Alexander taking me to the edge where I shouldn’t be. I’m tethered to him, my body falling, my mind free from the demons as I let the star-covered abyss cover me. My head falls back as my mouth opens, my earlier moans turning into pleas. He kisses me, and I sink against him, needing his arms around me.

He drinks in my tears and my orgasm as it connects me, once again, to the man I love. We both cry the words, “I’ve missed you,” as our hearts beat as one again.

When our breath lengthens and slows, he says, “I should get you to bed.”

“Stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll always be there when you need me.”

I kiss him. “I need you.”

After we’re dry and the nurse has redressed my wounds, we climb into bed. I’m careful how I lie, and he’s even more so, lying next to me. Our fingers meet in the middle and entwine. Home. In the dark of the room, I whisper the words I’ve missed saying each night, “Good night.”

“Best night.”

He’s not wrong. I don’t need sex or an orgasm to feel good, to feel loved. But we always connect deeply during sex, and I need to know nothing’s changed. Need to know he needs us just as much as I do. And I have my answer.

My once Prince Charming is now my beautiful dark king.

My king.





13





Sara Jane



The room is dark, but I feel light. The troubles that have weighed me down lifted. Reaching over, I click my phone and the screen illuminates. 10:34 a.m. Wow. I haven’t slept that well or long in months. Turning the other way, I reach for Alexander, but the place beside me is empty. “Alexander?” I call, but nothing is returned.

I remain there a minute, maybe two, my body weightless and relaxed. For someone who just had surgery, I feel pretty damn good. My handsome boyfr—husband made sure of that.

Pushing up, I look around for any signs of him as my eyes adjust to the dark. I push the button beside the bed and the curtains start sliding open. “Alexander?” His watch and phone are missing from the other nightstand, something I remember cataloging when I used to sleep here and wake up alone. Those were the nights he would disappear on me, before I knew of penthouses in the city and CIA-like operations. That was before I knew all of my friends were hiding an entire life from me, a life that changed mine forever.

The pain in my side is increasing the more I’m awake and the more I move, the last dosage two hours ago not working as well, so I get up and head into the bathroom.

When I come out, I take my robe from the closet hook and leave the room. It’s weird to be back, not as traumatic as I thought, considering the bad memories made here and the ghosts that haunt the halls. I reach the stairs and am tempted to sit, hoping the pain eases, but I need the nurse, so I start down, slowly, holding on to the railing. After a few steps I see April in the living room. The sight of her gives me pause. I’m not sure why, but something feels off. Or maybe I don’t like surprises when it comes to this place. The familiar edge I used to feel returns.

April looks up from a magazine, surprised to see me, and stands. “Sara Jane?” She rushes toward me. “What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting.”

She’s in front of me instantly and rests one hand on my lower back while the other holds my free arm. “It’s only been a few days, sweetie. I could have gotten you anything you needed.”

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