“Why?” I ask, annoyed. “Why don’t you deserve me? Because you were forced to endure your father’s disdain? Because you weren’t the son he wanted?” I realize I’ve said too much when his eyes blaze.
“Because I’ve become a man I don’t want to be,” he grates.
“Then. Don’t. Be. Him,” I say slowly, my fists clenching by my sides. Isn’t it that simple?
“It’s too late. The damage is done.”
Damage? I step back, not liking his resoluteness. “What damage?”
“Me, Izzy,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m damaged, and you, you gorgeous, normal woman, somehow love me.” His voice breaks. “I don’t understand it.”
The sight of him looking so confused and overwhelmed rips me in two. Positively kills me. “You don’t need to understand it. I love you. That’s it.”
“But this doesn’t make any sense to me.”
If there were a wall nearby, I would be throwing my fist at it. But there isn’t, so I take the stairs, closing the space between us. My face pleads with him the whole way, willing him to accept me. To accept my love. And when his arms lift slowly, I pretty much throw myself into them and cling on to him with all my might. The joining of our bodies seems to center my off-kilter world, and for now, there is nothing wrong, no worries or troubles, just us.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into my neck, nuzzling deeply. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“For what?” He starts to take the stairs, palming my bum and pulling it up so I wrap my legs around his waist.
“For storming out on you. For not stopping you from leaving. Why didn’t you take Callum?”
“Because I didn’t want him to hold me back.”
It’s just as I thought. I can’t even appreciate that I know him so well. “And now?” I ask, pulling away from his neck when he reaches the top of the stairs. “What now?” He didn’t find who he was looking for. I can’t bear the thought of him going AWOL on me again. The worry. The stress.
He carries me into his bedroom and lowers me to the bed, stroking back the hair from my face and looking down at me, a hint of a smile on his face. “Now, I love you.”
I hold my breath when his hand travels over my breast, down to the hem of my T-shirt. “I know you love me,” I whisper, my spine bending into his touch.
“I need to show you how much.”
“I know how much.”
He shakes his head, telling me I’m wrong. “Trust me, Izzy. You have no idea.” He pulls me up to a sitting position and lifts my T-shirt over my head. My nipples harden, ready and waiting for his devotion, as he unhooks my bra and pulls it down my arms. His head lowers, and he kisses each nipple in turn delicately, looking up at me with a small smile. I fall back onto my elbows, bliss replacing the lingering fear that’s swiftly been chased away by his return.
He licks delicately, and I sigh, my eyes tightly shut, my head falling limp on my neck. The rush of tingles invading me is too much to bear, and I start squirming on the bed, mumbling incoherent prayers to the ceiling.
“She’s beginning to see,” he whispers against my breast, kissing his way up the center of my chest to my neck. He buries his face there, ravishing my flesh with a keen, greedy tongue.
“Theo.” I pant, dropping from my elbows to my back, forcing my hands to remain by my sides. He’s going to have to restrain me soon. I can’t be held accountable for my hands, which are twitching, desperate to go on a feeling frenzy.
He nips at my neck and breaks away, pulling my jeans and knickers down my legs as he goes. He stands to the side of the bed and reaches for his tie. It gets yanked loose, his expression straight but hungry.
“Tie me up,” I demand, beginning to panic. I’m desperate, so happy to have him back. It’s making my control slip.
He pouts, shaking his head. “Not today.”
My buzzing form stills as he strips down, exposing his body in slow, torturous phases. His chest first, then his arms as he lets his shirt tumble to the floor. Then his thighs, drawing his trousers slowly down. Then his boxers, freeing his cock, the head visibly dripping with need. “Please,” I beg, turning my head and looking away.
His hand quickly seizes my jaw and turns my face back toward him. “I want your undivided attention; do you hear me?”
“You need to tie me up,” I insist, slamming my fists into the mattress beside me in a temper. It’s either that or grab him. I can’t do that. I know I can’t do that.
“I do not need to tie you up.” He collects my hand and smacks it into his chest, releasing a mild exhale. The force behind his words doesn’t make me feel any better. He was telling himself. Not me. “This is yours. You touch it, feel it, kiss it. You do what the fucking hell you want with it.”
My wide eyes drop to my flattened palm on the center of his chest. “Theo, don’t be a hero,” I say, wondering what on earth has gotten into him.
“I’m no hero, Izzy. I’m a damaged man.” He begins to move my hand around in slow, precise circles, his muscles tensing beneath my touch. “But you can fix me.” He drops to his knees on the bed, holding my hand in place. “I need you, Izzy. Please.” He lowers and claims my lips softly, the feel of his warm, wet mouth relaxing me, wiping my mind of all protests. I keep my hand where it is, but I don’t move it. Not even when he spreads his body all over me, sliding his hand up my arm and linking his fingers with mine, squeezing reassurance into me.
His body on top of me forces me to move my hand from his chest, but it goes straight to the bed, and Theo circles his groin, pushing his cock into my thigh. I jolt beneath him, the hardness against my soft flesh feeling so good. So right. But my free hands feel so wrong. I’m not used to it. I thought I’d be unable to contain myself, would be feeling every exposed piece of him, but now that I have the opportunity, I’m too frightened. I try hard to focus on Theo, his mouth on mine, his tongue exploring softly. His body against me, his heat mixing with mine, his hard muscles pushing into my soft curves. My need for it all is there, but it’s being distorted by caution and a fear that I don’t have when I’m restrained.
“Touch me,” he demands. “Feel me. Izzy. Fix me.” He pushes his forehead to mine, looking down at me with so much hope, I almost shatter under the pressure of it. Releasing my hand gently, he keeps his eyes on mine, leaving me with two free hands that he wants so badly on him. So steeling myself for the worst, I reluctantly bring my palms to his lower back, watching him carefully, keeping an eye out for any signs. He’s expecting my touch. This isn’t the problem. The problem is when he’s going to be swallowed up in me, distracted from everything except the pleasure he’s getting. I flex my fingers.
He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he smiles proudly and swoops in with a hungrier kiss, passionate and demanding. I’m absolutely lost in it from the second our lips connect, my hands going straight for his hair and gripping hard. He groans, he shifts, rubbing himself into me, and then his hips lift and he falls to my opening. I bite his lip, keeping it in my grip as he pulls away to look into my eyes. He exhales, swivels his hips, and plunges deeply into me with a groan. My muscles lock, and I cry out, my spine bowing, my head tossed back in ecstasy. He’s deep, so deep, stretching me beyond comprehension. “Breathe, Izzy,” he orders gently, stilling, giving me time to get used to him. “Okay?”
I nod, bullying my lungs into compliance. “Okay.” I unlock my muscles and melt back into the bed, flexing my hips a little in acceptance.
He hisses. His head drops. “Damn, woman, you feel too good to be true.” An expert spin of his hips drives him deep, knocking my breathing to shit again. I move my hands to his shoulders and grab him. He flinches. He definitely flinches. But he continues to rock into me, his body hard, tense, and heavy. I purr, meeting every one of his advances, digging my nails into the damp skin of his shoulders. He begins to moan, his pace quickening. I can’t help but think he’s trying to get this done with as quickly as possible, like he’s in
agony and ecstasy and he’s struggling with the conflicting feelings…which I know he is. I slide my hands down to his arse and grab it hard. He jumps, so much he nearly slips free of me.
No. This stops now.
“I’m not doing this.” I wriggle under him, removing my hold, being sure not to touch him. “Theo, get off.”
He moves like lightning, pulling out abruptly. It makes me wince and close my legs as I watch him pushing himself up onto his knees. I sit up, brushing my hair from my face. “I can do it,” he insists. His stomach is creased with taut ripples that have nothing to do with the lack of fat on him. He’s strung like a threatened animal.
“You’re not ready.” I’m speaking the truth, and he knows it. If he dares—
“You always say you’re not scared of me.” A hand rakes through his hair. “Prove it.” He’s getting himself in a state, putting himself under unnecessary pressure. “Let me show you I can do it.”
I don’t know if it’s the stress of today, or just the stress of this moment, but I fly off the handle. “I’m not scared of you!” I shout, and he retreats, shocked. “You could hit me, Theo. Smack me or punch me full force in the face. And I’ll get over it. I’ll heal and forgive. Because I know it’s not your fault.” I hit my forehead with my balled fist, so fucking frustrated. He’s quiet, shocked into silence by my outburst. I’ve never seen him looking so utterly hopeless. I breathe in some calm and swallow. “But you will never forgive yourself if you turn on me. Please, don’t put yourself in that situation when you don’t have to. It’ll come in time.”
He looks away, ashamed, and I hate myself for making him feel like that. “I don’t want you to give up on me.”
I press my lips together, feeling a bulge of emotion creeping up my throat. “I’ll never give up on you.” I walk forward on my knees and hold my hands out to him. He takes them, looking at me through glassy eyes. “I love you,” I whisper, encouraging him to instigate the positioning of me on his lap. And he sighs when I wrap my arms around his shoulders. “I can do this,” I mumble into his neck, squeezing him to reinforce my point. “I can hold you.” Then I kiss his neck—once, twice, three times. “And this. It’s enough for me.” I’m not lying. I’m talking sincerely and wholeheartedly. I hope that one day we can have more, but my decision to be with him isn’t riding on it. I love him too much.
“It doesn’t seem fair.” He cups my cheek, his eyes running over my dark waves. “I get to have free rein over you, and you don’t me.”
I smile sadly. “I will one day, but until then, don’t ever lose your hyperawareness of me.”
“There’s no way.” He kisses me and falls back to the bed, holding me tightly in his arms—the place I love the most.
“We’ll fix this,” I vow. “One day.”
“And I’ll love you every day.” He kisses the top of my head and pulls me into him. “Protect you, worship you, treat you like a queen and—”
“Fuck me like a whore.” I smile into his chest. “I don’t want to rain on your parade, but it’s kinda lost its impact.”
He chuckles softly, nudging me. “I never said it for impact. I said it because I meant it.”
“Good.” I raise my finger in the air and wait for him to claim it and place it on his chest. Then I start tracing the lines of the script on his pec, slowly, peacefully…and happily. We lie in silence for an age, my thoughts no longer twisting my brain, but more untangling it. I’m thinking realistically and sensibly. It’s the only way to approach this. To approach Theo. His vulnerability is a comfort, but it’s also a burden. A heavy one that I’m willing to shoulder, because he loves me so deeply. He wants to be better for me. Any man who wants to change so desperately is worth the devotion. Theo is worth every bit of my devotion and more. “You could try something for me,” I say tentatively, biting my lip nervously.
“Anything.”
I have a feeling he might regret that. I look up at him, nervous. “Therapy.”
Though his face remains straight, I feel his body stiffen beneath me. “Okay,” he says on a mere wisp of breath, surprising me. “As long as you come with me.”
“You want me to come?”
He nods, and my mind spirals. If I go with him, that means I’ll hear everything he tells the therapist. “Yes,” he says quietly, clearly reading my mind. I should be happy. I should be grateful. But I’m not. Because I sense Theo expects the same openness from me in return. I lay my head on his chest, escaping his gaze, and let myself wonder if I could do that. Tell him everything. The throb of my heart gives me my answer. No. Never. Quiet falls again, and I stare at the wall, hypnotized by the feel of his hand stroking circles across my back. But then Theo’s mobile sounds, piercing our peace, and he groans. “I should get that. I told Callum I’d join him in the Playground half an hour ago.” He lifts, bringing me with him. “I’ll be an hour, tops.” He manipulates my body on the bed and starts to tuck me in all tight and cozy before dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Go to sleep.”
I snuggle down, happy to lie here and snooze while he’s gone. “Promise me you won’t get on the couch if I’m asleep when you get back,” I mumble tiredly.
“I promise.” He gets up and quickly dresses.
“But promises are only words that evaporate in the air the moment they’re spoken,” I quip, containing my smile when he pauses mid-pull-up of his trousers.
He slowly turns and gazes at me with eyes so clear. “Not anymore.”
Chapter 24
When I wake, I’m in that place again, the one between sleep and consciousness, yet now my contentment carries over from my dream world into my real world. I smile and sit up, blinking into the hazy light. The clock says it’s eleven o’clock, a whole three hours since Theo left me in bed. What happened to him being an hour? My phone glows from the nightstand and I reach for it, seeing a text from Theo.
Call me if you wake up. x
I pull up his number and go to dial, but a sound from outside his bedroom stops me. Shuffling to the side of the bed, I quickly throw on some jeans and an oversize T-shirt and head out to the lounge. I find it empty. Frowning, I hurry to the door and pull it open, jumping a little when I nearly walk into Penny.
She gives me a small smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s fine,” I say, taking her in. She looks good. Good for a woman who’s been violated so awfully. “Are you okay?”
“I have a cracking headache.” She reaches up to her head and holds the side. “Do you have any painkillers?”
“In my purse.” I back up and grab my bag, retrieving the pills from my inside pocket. “When was the last time you took some?”
“Just before I fell asleep. About four.”
I hand them over, satisfied there’s been a long enough time since her last dose. “Here.”
“Thank you.” She holds them up with a small smile and wanders back to her room as I slip my feet into some shoes and follow her.
“I’m here if you need anything, Penny,” I say to her back. “Even just to talk.”
She nods, taking the handle of the door, looking back at me with a smile I know is appreciative. “Thank you. Really.”
I wave off her gratitude with a dismissive hand. “Did Callum give you the pill I asked him to get?”
Another nod. “I took it straightaway. Is Theo okay?” Her question has me pausing a beat.
“Yes,” I answer reassuringly. “He’s fine.”
“That’s good.” She shifts awkwardly, pushing the door open, and I ponder telling her what I know. Does she care? “I know you know,” she says before I get the chance to decide.
I smile mildly, if a little awkwardly. “It makes sense now.”
“I don’t deserve him, really. I’ve given him the runaround for years. He just wanted to make me feel wanted.”
“You are wanted.”
“I know,” she admits, sounding thoughtful. “I’m lucky to have him. And he’s lucky to have you.” She pushe
s her way into the room and closes the door, and I stare at it for a moment. I’m lucky to have him, too.
Tucking my phone into my back pocket, I head down the stairs to Theo, now eager to find him, not just to see him but to show him how lucky I feel. Does he realize?
After I’ve passed through the corridors and the office without seeing a soul, I break into the club, finding it bustling, music pumping, dancers dancing and…fighters fighting. The crowd of men around the arena is dense, all of them cheering on the two well-formed males in the enclosure. Sweat is flying as they swing at each other, both connecting on every hit. I grimace, looking over to the stage, where the dancers are pretty much seducing the poles for no one, everyone in the club more interested in the bloodbath happening in the cage.
I scan the space, looking for Theo, but find Jess instead, sitting at the bar. “Hey,” I say as I pull a stool over and join her. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d come see you.”
“Except I wasn’t here, and you didn’t call me to tell me you were.” My smile is teasing, and she completely ignores it.
“Callum picked me up.”
“Nice of him,” I reply flippantly, signaling to the barman for a drink. “Where’s Theo?”
“With his mother.”
“Thought so.” I accept my drink when it slides toward me. I bet she’s dishing out a thorough telling-off. I can’t help but feel sorry for my deadly boyfriend.
“They’re like rottweilers,” Jess muses, looking across to the cage with a shudder. I don’t look, certain I don’t want to see the carnage. But I find myself swiveling on my stool on instinct when a roar of cheering breaks out, seeing one man going down in a hazy spray of blood and sweat. He hits the deck with a deafening thud, and Jess grabs my arm as I cringe and quickly turn away from the massacre.
“Everything okay?” she asks a little tentatively, sympathy emblazoned across her face.
I smile my reassurance. “Everything’s fine.”
Jess frowns, and my glass pauses at my lips. “Then why did Theo look like he was about to kill someone when he got here?”
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