Page 67 of Fractured Memories

Sliding into bed beside me, Kieran drags me into his chest, and I go willingly. His other hand finds my thigh, pulling my leg across his body so he can run his palm over my skin.

“Did you enjoy the cages?” His voice is rough, and I wonder if it’s because he’s trying to cover any emotion I might hear in the words. Either way, it makes his accent thicker, which I find insanely attractive.

Shifting so that I’m fully on top of him, I prop my hands on his chest and set my chin on top of them. Kieran’s fall to my hips, thumbs swiping over the skin. He’s always touching me, and I love that connection.

“I did.” My lips twitch. “Even if I didn’t get to do the killing.”

That earns me a soft smile. “Feeling violent tonight, mo chuisle?”

“Maybe.” My head cocks as I study him. He looks so relaxed right now that I decide to ask him something I’ve been wondering. “What does that mean?” He raises his scarred brow even though I’m certain he knows what I’m asking. “Mo chuisle. What does it mean?”

Kieran’s jaw flexes, and he looks away. Lifting up, I slide one hand along his jaw and turn his face back to me. His brows are pinched, and his green eyes are dark, emotion clouding them.

I know that he still struggles with the things we’ve lost. And that we still aren’t where we once were. I’ve noticed he doesn’t tell me he loves me, and he hasn’t kissed me. It’s like he’s still protecting little pieces of the marriage he once had—or maybe there are some things he knows will break him.

Like kissing me when I won’t share his bed permanently or not hearing me say I love him back. Both hurt me when I think about it, so I can’t imagine how it must feel to him.

And I’m worried this question is just a reminder that even though I’ve given him my body again, he still doesn’t have all of me. A reminder that he doesn’t want to face.

“Kieran?” I smooth a hand over the crinkle in his forehead. “I didn’t mean⁠—“

He shakes his head, capturing my hand and kissing the palm. “I never told you. It’s okay that you asked.”

Swallowing hard, I nod. Despite everything, this moment feels more vulnerable than any others we’ve had.

“I don’t know the direct translation.” His lips curl into a sad smile. “My mother would be so disappointed in that.” He shakes his head, green eyes lifting. “But roughly, it means ‘my love.’”

My heart aches at the emotion in Kieran’s gaze. I think back to all the times he’s called me that—and most of the time, it was during sex. When his restraint was gone and he was completely raw.

In the moments when he couldn’t hide everything anymore…he called me his love.

I knew he often called me wife, but for a while, it felt more like an insult. This, though, threatens to break something in me.

I don’t know how to respond. We’ve rarely talked like this, and I’m terrible at sharing how I feel. Not that Kieran is looking for a grand declaration right now, but I want him to know that I hear how important this is without him saying it.

So, instead of butchering my words, I brush my thumb along his scruff, shifting closer. I haven’t pushed kissing him because it has felt too intimate. But right now, I think it’s what we both need.

His eyes track me as I lean in, flicking between mine and my mouth. He’s barely breathing beneath me, his hands moving in a steady rhythm that seems to be grounding him. But he makes no effort to stop me as I tilt my head, our noses brushing.

My heart squeezing, I close the last of the space between us, our lips meeting for the first time, and I sink into his kiss. It’s not brutal or filled with tension like I would have expected. It’s all-consuming, claiming, and so fucking good that I need more.

One of his hands slides up my back while mine get lost in his thick waves. My lips part and his tongue sweeps in, the kiss turning heated but no less intense.

Soon, I’m grinding back on him as he grows hard, our mouths never breaking apart. Not even when I sink down on him. He keeps my lips on his, swallowing my moans and depriving me of oxygen in a new way.

And when I’m riding him, stealing kisses between groans, and he calls me mo chuisle, I finally understand what he’s been saying all along. I might not understand it all, but it’s like picking up a forgotten language. It’s all starting to make sense to me again.

Kieran is.

CHAPTER 23

KIERAN

Soft fingers brush along the scars on my chest, the sensation tugging me from the depths of sleep. I don’t move, not wanting Eden to know I’m awake yet. Rarely, we’ve been able to wake up together, and I want to savor it.

Slowly, I open my eyes to find my wife draped over me. The sheets have fallen down to her waist, showing off her golden skin, and her wild curls are a mess. This is my favorite version of Eden, thoroughly ruined and mine.

Her hazel eyes are on me already, but there’s a slight pinch to her brow. Her teeth tug on her bottom lip as her fingers keep moving, clearly lost in thought.