Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“Not until you hear me out.”
“You aren’t saying anything. Not once have you made even a slight attempt to tell me why you shut me out.”
“Your badge.”
“You’re my husband, Kane. They can’t make me speak against you, so just stop already.”
“I can’t stop protecting you. I won’t promise—”
“So now that’s your excuse for keeping secrets? You’re protecting me? Are we really there again?”
“Nothing about what I did today is a secret. I told you.”
“After, and there was a reason for that. You had a plan A and a plan B.”
“You know me like no other human being knows me. Why can’t you just trust that I would do what is right for us, for you? Fuck, Lilah. I was going to tell you. Just not then. I needed—I can’t let him near you, and that’s exactly what happened. And yes, I would have done whatever it took to end this and protect you.”
I can feel myself soften, guilt stabbing at me. “I didn’t marry you because I wanted a protector. That’s not who I am or what I want.”
“I know you like I know my own smell, bella. You know that, right?”
“And your point?”
“Even you need to feel safe,” he says, his hands framing my waist, warmth burning away the icy cold memories of the past. “I shouldn’t have suggested leaving,” he murmurs. “That’s not who we are. That’s not what we do.”
“And yet—”
He cups my face and draws my mouth to his. “Don’t do that. It’s done. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
His breath is warm, and my anger has gone cold. “I tried really hard not to need you, you know that?”
“I know, bella. Believe me, I know.” His mouth covers mine, and he still tastes of whiskey and worry, and sometimes, like now, Kane tastes of death. It’s there tonight, the bittersweet promise that he will kill for me, and all I can do is answer with, me too. I will kill for you.
We’re wild, ripping at each other’s clothes, and at least once I almost fall down trying to get my pants off while he holds me up. Finally, he’s buried inside me, my back to the wall and him in front of me, driving into me. The hard surface behind me grinds into my back, but I don’t care if it cuts me and I start bleeding.
I just want more Kane.
At some point, though, I cry out from the pain, which is somehow oh so appropriate for us. Pain that is pleasure. That is me and this man all the way. Apparently, he doesn’t think so, though, and we end up on the floor with me on top of him, a floor just as rough and punishing at his back while I’m just as rough and punishing on top of him.
Sometimes I think pain is what we do best to each other.
Just not today.
When we’ve reached that edge where the wall and floor, and his father and Ghost, don’t matter, where there is only that ultimate moment of us, I collapse over the top of him, panting against his neck. I melt into him, relaxing in a way I can only relax with Kane—his fingers splayed between my shoulder blades. But we have all of thirty seconds before both of our phones start ringing at once.
And for the strangest moment, I’m standing on that beach so many years ago, after my attack, and there is blood in the water. There’s death in the air, and when I push up and stare down at Kane, I see it in his eyes. He feels it, too.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Mother of Jesus, can they not just wait a minute?” Kane mutters, rolling off of me and reaching for his pants while both our phones go silent.
But not for long.
We’ve accepted the inevitable, and I follow his lead and scramble for my clothing. There’s no peace for the wicked, and we are most definitely the wicked. I’m not sure I’d have it any other way, though I’d take a little less cartel in our lives right about now. Ghost and Pocher are enough.
Once we’re both dressed, I reach for my phone, prepared to navigate whatever waits on me, but apparently Kane isn’t as ready. He catches my arm and gives me one of his intense, for me only looks, framed with the kind of hard edge he does so well. “You have to trust me.” It’s as much order as plea, a weird combination he manages to pull off a bit too often, considering it works for me.
“You’re pretty much the only person I trust, Kane. I mean, yes, I trust Jay, but sometimes in the wrong way. I trust him to put himself in harm’s way. Yes. Check. I trust him to—”
“Lilah.”
“I trust you, Kane.”
“Are you sure about that?” he challenges.
“Why does this feel like a trick question?”