“What are you talking about?”
“Not as pretty as Vieve,” she was sobbing. “Not as smart as you. You never talk to me, Mom never notices me. Dad hates me. Jesus, I hate this fucking family!”
Stunned at her outburst, neither Katya nor Wulf moved when Brie ran across the room. She was out the door before Wulf could take a step, and driving down the street by the time he got to the door.
“Goddammit!” he roared, slamming the door shut so hard the chandelier above them rattled.
“I'm sorry,” Katya spoke quickly, walking over to him. “I'm so sorry. I just heard him, the way he was talking to her, and I … I didn't even think.”
Wulf didn't respond. He turned and walked straight up the stairs, surprising her a little. She hesitated for a moment, then followed him. Stayed a couple steps behind all the way to his room, then she lingered in the door way.
“Come in,” he finally said in a gruff voice.
She stepped softly into the space, looking around. As a teenager, she'd often fantasized about going into Wulfric Stone's bedroom. But with the way things were, it almost felt wrong to be there now.
It had long since been made over, there were no signs that a teenager had ever inhabited the room. It wasn't the master bedroom, but it was huge, with a spacious walk-in closet and its own sitting area. Wulf walked in there, straight to a bar that was set up against a wall. He poured himself a couple fingers of scotch, slammed it back, then poured another glass.
“Here,” he said, offering her the glass. Katya didn't drink scotch, but she didn't argue. She took the glass and sipped at it while he made up another one for himself.
“Are you okay?” she asked in a soft voice. He shrugged.
“Just as okay as I ever am,” he replied, then he swallowed all the scotch in one go again. “And you? Are you okay?”
“I'm fine.”
“When I heard him talking to you that way,” he started in a soft voice, staring at the wall in front of him. “Talking to Brie … I wanted to hurt him.”
“I know,” she nodded.
“You have no idea,” he whispered.
“It's okay. It's okay to feel that way,” she assured him, struggling to keep calm.
“It's always like this,” he suddenly said, and she shrieked when the glass in his hand broke. He'd squeezed it so hard, it had shattered. “Whenever I come home.”
“Oh my god, Wulf, you're bleeding,” she gasped, hurrying over to him and setting her glass down.
“This is why I stay away from the girls, I just ruin things,” he kept talking while she searched the bar area. There was a small sink, and underneath it she found some bandages and towels. She wet one of the towels and grabbed his hand, dabbing at the small cuts.
“Stop it,” she said, throwing the towel aside and opening one of the bandages.
“And you,” he continued. “Look at what happened with you.”
“I said stop,” she urged, smoothing her fingers over the large bandage, sticking it into place.
“And right now,” he kept going. “You don't need to be part of this bullshit. Your dad … Mr. Tocci. I can't imagine, Katya.”
She nodded, stepping back and wiping at tears.
“It's bad,” she agreed. “It's pretty shitty fucking awful. But you know what?”
“What?” he asked, frowning at her.
“At least … at least I don't have your dad.”
His eyes got wide and she startled a laugh out of him. She laughed as well, and for a few moments, nobody frowned. But she couldn't stop crying and eventually they fell silent again.
“I'm so sorry, Katya,” he sighed, reaching out and wiping her tears away with his thumb.
“You don't have to be sorry,” she told him.
“I'm sorry I was the wrong man for you,” he said. She held still for a moment, then started shaking. She chewed on her lips for a moment before taking a deep breath.
“Not wrong ...” she whispered, and he smiled sadly.
“But definitely not right,” he whispered back, moving his hand to cup her cheek. “I'm sorry I'm not a very good person. I'm sorry I broke you.”
“Me, too, Wulf.”
When he kissed her, she cried harder. When he tried to pull away, she clung tighter to him. Wrapped her arms around his shoulders and never wanted to let him go.
He kissed her lips and her chin and her eyelids. Wiped away her tears and whispered to her soul.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Forgive me.”
She didn't want to go home. She didn't want to go back to San Francisco. She didn't want to be Katya Tocci, the baker, and she didn't want him to be Wulfric Stone, real estate mogul. She wanted them to be the kind of people who wouldn't hurt each other. Who could just love and hold each other and take care of each other.
They bumped into his bed before she even knew they were moving. It was so quiet in the room that when he pulled down the zipper on her dress, she felt like the sound echoed around them.
The dress and her shoes disappeared when she laid down on the bed. His shirt was gone by the time he laid down on top of her. Her bra was removed while she pushed at his pants with her hands and feet.
“I don't want to hurt you,” he whispered, his lips trailing across her chest while his finger curled around the top of her underwear.
“You can't,” she whispered back, holding still as he removed her panties.
Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was awful of them. But they were both so broken and hurting, and there was nowhere else she wanted to be at that moment. She wanted his touch to heal every pain he'd caused. She wanted to kiss away all the hurt he'd experienced in his life. She wanted to be in that moment with him, where they were the only things that mattered to each other.
Sex between them had rarely been overly emotional, but something powerful happened when he entered her. She took a deep breath, feeling every inch of him every inch of the way. She pressed her head back, straining her body away from him even while she pressed her hips closer.
“No one else,” he breathed as he slowly moved over her and inside of her. “No one else has ever been like you.”
“No, no one,” she agreed, hugging him close and whispering in his ear.
“I never stopped,” he said.
“Stopped what?”
“Looking at you like you were Christmas. Even when you were angry. Even when you thought you hated me. Even when you were with him. You've always been a gift to me.”
“A gift,” she whispered, pressing her face to the side of his as she started crying again.
“Thank you, Katya. For being the best present I ever got.”
She was never, ever going to stop crying. Her heart would always be breaking for this beautiful man, but if she had to be hurting, then Wulfric Stone was very much worth it.
He abruptly rolled them over, startling her. He handled her like she was weightless, settling her on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips. She moaned shakily, having trouble breathing because he filled her to the point overflowing.
“I want to see you,” he breathed, brushing her hair out of her face. She nodded and started moving her hips.