Deep in Dorian’s chest, an ancient pit bubbled and roiled, full of hatred and self-loathing as black and viscous as boiling tar.
“You were right to call me a monster, love. Iama monster. More terrible than thevilestbeasts that haunt your nightmares.” Tears of shame slipped down his cheeks, and he jerked his head toward the door, no longer caring if she saw him at his weakest. “So leave me, Charlotte D’Amico. Please. Get to your feet, put one foot in front of the other, and walk out of this manor before you live to regret the day the devil crossed your path.”
Still, she didn’t leave.
She climbed into his lap and took his face between her hands, her thumbs catching his tears, her mouth so close he felt the hot sweetness of her breath.
Dorian closed his eyes and shook his head, unable to bear the weight of her last goodbye.
All he wanted to do was kiss her.
It was more than he deserved, yet the thought of losing her nearly swallowed him, like some great hole opening up beneath him, plummeting him straight to hell.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
Demanded.
Begged.
When he finally opened his eyes again, Charlotte smiled, her eyes filling at once with sadness and longing and hope, and there, beneath all the pain, burning hottest and brightest of all…
Love.
She brushed a soft kiss to his lips, then whispered the words that finally shattered the chains inside, cracking Dorian’s heart wide open, setting the broken pieces aflame.
“I love you, Dorian Redthorne. Iloveyou. And if you think foroneminute I’m walking out that door just because you told me to, you can fuck right off.” She pressed a hot kiss to his lips, then smiled again, achingly beautiful, achingly real. “I choose option two.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Words.
Right ones, wrong ones, broken ones, it didn’t matter.
Words had always been the hard part. But now, for Dorian and Charley, what came next was easy.
Here before the roaring fire in his favorite room in the manor, therewereno words. Only Charlotte, the feel of her perfect mouth on Dorian’s throat, her lips and tongue sending ripples of pleasure throughout his body.
He sat in his chair, relishing in her sweet explorations until the fire burned down to embers and a chill finally crept into the room.
Silently, he carried her to his bedroom, and after a blissful shower to wash away the last of the evening’s brutalities, they slipped between the satin sheets of Dorian’s bed, naked and vulnerable, stripped bare of everything but flesh and bone.
And still, neither of them spoke. It was as if they both understood they’d crossed into new territory, vast and unexplored. Neither wanted to shatter its pristine beauty with something as basic and limiting as human language.
Here, in this new world, they relied on pure instinct. Touch. Heat.
Charlotte spent a long, sinfully delicious hour exploring the newly visible network of his daylight tattoos with her mouth, kissing and licking, nipping and teasing, sending spasms of pleasure across nerves Dorian didn’t even realize he possessed.
When it was his turn, he skimmed his mouth along her curves, drinking in every inch, unleashing soft moans that made him melt as surely as they made him hard. It was slow and sweet and perfect, a rare evening between them with no commands, no sexy games, no race to the finish line.
All of those things had their place, and Dorian had loved every red-hot experience they’d previously shared. And tomorrow, he was certain, they’d be right back to their old mind-blowing tricks.
But tonight was different.
Everythingwas different.
I love you, Dorian Redthorne. I love you…
Her voice echoed through his memory as he kissed his way down her throat, savoring the taste, sweeter in the wake of her confessions.
