Page 45 of Cross Me

“He’s your age,” he corrected me.

“Okay, that might be true. I don’t see him that way.” He could think whatever he wanted. “Anders invited me out with the guys. It wasn’t like that.”

“Are you sure about that, Clara?” The words grated from him like he’d turned them over so many times they had left him raw. The question had preoccupied him, I could see that now. The blaze in his eyes wasn’t possession or anger. It was fear.

“It isn’t,” I promised. “He was only being friendly.”

He shook his head again, his hand going to his hair and raking through it in a gesture I knew too well. “He wasn’t being friendly.” His eyes traveled from my feet up until they met mine. “He wants you.”

“You are paranoid, Alexander. You have to stop worrying.” I pressed a palm to his chest, my skin tingling where our flesh met. “I chose you. It wouldn’t matter if he’d asked me to marry him—” This observation was met with a growl, but I ignored it. “My answer will always be no to anyone but you.”

“Does that mean…” he trailed away, his hand slipping to the zipper of my dress.

“If you promise to behave.” But I was already melting against him. He unzipped me and my dress puddled to the floor. A hand pressed to the small of my back and he bent me over, my body arching into his embrace. The heat of his mouth trailed down my throat to my breasts before closing over my nipple, sucking it roughly through the lace of my bra. I couldn’t fight this. I didn’t want to.

“Behaving,” he murmured, “is overrated.”

My eyes had shut tightly, savoring each flick of his tongue and rasp of his teeth, but I squirmed free and pushed him away.

“Promise me,” I repeated firmly. Alexander wasn’t paying attention, his focus was still on my breasts, so I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly.

“I will behave. I will play nice. I will be your better half.” He yanked me to him, before adding, “In theory.”

“X.” It was all I got out before we collided. There was an urgency to his kiss, but unlike what I’d come to expect after the last few harrowing weeks, it was slow and sweet. It was a kiss that asked for my forgiveness. I folded into him, my hands pressed to his chest. His heart beat rapidly and I relaxed as I felt its steady rhythm. He was what mattered. Every danger we faced, whatever issues we had, we’d battle them together. I had promised him that. I hadn’t chosen this life or him blindly. It wasn’t going to be easy.

But easy love was for the weak. Easy love gave up. Easy love didn’t last. Us? We were forever. It didn’t matter if it was harder. I saw past his rough edges to the man he was in his soul. It was a fierce love—a hard love—that had brought us together. That love was worth fighting for.

“I’m sorry, Poppet,” he whispered against my mouth. “I wish I could tell you that it won’t happen again. I wish I could tell you I deserve you. I wish I could tell you how very much I need you.”

I reached up and took his face, tilting his chin so our eyes met, his blue and my gray clashing in a storm of emotion. “Show me.”

Alexander scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bed. He laid me down with a gentleness that stole my breath. My fingers fumbled to find the button of his jeans, but he pushed my hand away softly.

“I’ll take care of that,” he said in a low voice that sent a shiver dancing up my spine. “I’ll take care of you tonight.”

Tightness constricted my throat and I swallowed hard. The tears came anyway. I shut my eyes against them, but they leaked past my lashes and dribbled down my face. Alexander finished drawing off my pants, but his fingers froze on my ankles.

“Clara,” he said my name in a strangled voice.

“I’m okay,” I choked out. I wasn’t. Not really. I was in love. I was terrified. I was frustrated. I was hopeful. I was everything. He made me feel too much—he always made me feel too much.

“I…” he searched for something to say, but I knew there was nothing to be said. Some truths could only be felt.

“Make love to me,” I pleaded, holding out a hand. It was the only answer he needed.

Alexander shed his clothes swiftly and climbed onto the bed next to me, pulling my body to his. He wiped away the lingering remnants of tears with the rough pad of his thumb as he planted a soft kiss on my forehead.

“Clara, you are my world,” he murmured, his lips still brushing across my forehead. “I was raised to believe that protecting the world was my responsibility. How could I not protect you?”

“I only need you to love me,” I whispered, daring a hopeful glance. Pain flashed across his face and his eyes shuddered against my words.

“I love you. I wish I could go back and tell you as soon as I realized it. I wish I could go back and tell you every time I’ve thought it since. Your love is a gift I’ve never deserved. I’m honored to love you.”

“I’m honored you protect me.” I kissed him softly. “But X, you can’t control everything. You can’t control the world. You can’t control me.”

“I know that.” He drew me closer, his strong arms tightening protectively around me. “I won’t control you. But I won’t stop trying to change the world. You deserve to feel nothing but love and peace. Our children deserve that. If I have to spend every day of my life fighting for it, I will.”

I knew he meant it. And I knew this was one enemy he would face on his own. All I could do was give him the strength and faith to keep fighting.