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That’s what Langston was going for—a romantic night filled with hot, dirty sex. Then breakfast in bed, followed by slow lovemaking and a declaration of his love.
It was beautiful, magical. I could feel his love in every kiss, every touch, every breath.
He poured everything he had into showing me with his body just how much he loves me. I just couldn’t let him do it with his words.
For years I’ve managed to keep him hating me for real. I just have to keep him from loving me for a little bit longer.
I told him to do his worst, so I’m preparing for it, even as his naked body still lies on top of mine. Even in the afterglow of what just passed between us, I know what comes next is going to hurt like a motherfucker. It’s going to hurt worse than anything that happened to me in that game, on that yacht, when I was raped—all of it combined because Langston is going to be the one hurting me.
He thought it would make it easier on us if he said he loves me, easier to heal after he’s done the terrible task he has to do for the treasure. We would be more connected if he said the words, but I know that’s not true.
Words said or not; I’ve already fucked up. I already let us get too close. I’m just hoping that whatever way he has to torture me now will break both of our hearts enough that we can’t possibly stay together.
For once, I hope my father came up with some wicked game to ruin us.
I
run through all the things that Langston could do to prepare myself. If I could force my heart to break first, I’d do it, but I can’t. Langston is the only one who has that power over me. And once he does destroy my heart, I have to be careful not to let either of our hearts break again.
Could he fuck another woman in front of me?
Could he break up with me, divorce me?
Take my kids away from me?
Physically hurt me? Rape me?
Each image plays in my head. I feel the pain; I feel my heart expanding in each instance, pushing it to its limits. I see it getting stabbed, ripped, cracked, but it never fully breaks.
Because I love him unconditionally; I love him wholly. Despite what he does, he’s doing it to save our child, not because he wants to hurt me. There is nothing he can do that will make me stop loving him.
Fuck, if this is how I feel, I’m sure Langston feels the same. I don’t know what it’s going to take to get rid of our love, but I’m going to figure it out.
Langston closes his eyes as his body continues to pin me to the deck of the sailboat. When they open, there’s a wicked fire. He’s flipped a switch inside. Before, he was a man; now, he’s the devil.
I purse my lips and try to breathe to control my heartbeat, not that I’ve been able to control my fucked up heart before. I already know I’m a goner. Is dying by love a real thing that can happen? If so, I’m going to die from loving Langston too much.
I’m rambling in my head, trying to process this moment to keep it separate from what happened earlier tonight. Maybe whatever Langston has to do will break him hard enough that he won’t be able to be in the same room as me. He will stay away from me, and distance will make our love fade.
I bite my lip as he rubs himself against me.
Nope, I don’t think there is anything that will make me stop loving him. The only way our love is dying is tragically, without the words ever being said out loud.
“Stop trying to guess what I’m going to do, huntress. You don’t have a clue.” The sinful gleam in his eyes tells me I don’t.
He leans forward and whispers in my ear, “And to make sure you don’t fuck up my plans, I’m going to tie you to the mast.”
“You shouldn’t have told me your plan.”
“I didn’t even tell you half of my plan.”
“You told me enough.” I squeeze my legs tight, trapping his junk before I knee him hard.
“Jesus,” he groans as he rolls off me.
I grin and run.
I’m just delaying the inevitable, but I want him to do whatever he has to do with my arms and legs free. I don’t think I can handle giving up so much control in my moment of torture.
