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I wasn’t a martyr. I’d swum in the black ooze. I’d done terrible things. I wasn’t ignoring their calls because I was mad or sad or utterly post traumatic. I was ignoring their calls because I’d moved on and wasn’t about to glorify Morris with so much as a whisper, much less a segment on 60 Minutes.
“So what do we do now?” I asked. “Now that I’m all enlightened and shit?”
“We could become monks,” Law suggested.
“We could…” I smiled, pretending to consider it.
“Or we could become preachers,” Law offered.
“That’s also a possibility.” I furrowed my brow, as if really thinking about it.
“Or,” Law continued. “We could finish packing and go fuck each other’s brains out until we can’t get out of bed.”
“That”—I pointed at him—“that is an idea I can get on board with.”
“Well, that’s the last of it. We are officially done packing,” Law said, closing the lid on his suitcase. He reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me in for a kiss. A year of his kisses and I still hadn’t tired of them. He opened me up, body and soul.
Breathless, I pulled back and gestured to the huge pile of clothing we’d yet to pack. “What about that stuff over there?”
“All right,” Law whispered, taking my ear between his teeth. “You caught me.” Law grinned and spun me around so I was flat against his chest. Bending down so his head was to my neck, he placed lingering kisses on the tip of my collarbone. He ghosted a trail of kisses to the top of my chest and I gripped his forearms, his lips making me fold into myself.
“It’s getting too quiet in here.” Law sucked along my skin, pushing my shirt aside to get at my bare shoulder. “The sound of you screaming my name is noticeably missing.” Law tugged the back of my neck and forced me to look at him. His honey eyes shone with lust, but he searched mine. Law never took what I didn’t offer.
“I’m going to fuck you,” Law stated. Only hours ago we’d made love and I still felt the echoes of our sex. My legs were weak, my arms were sore, and between my thighs I still felt him inside me.
“You are, are you?” I teased. I reached out and kissed him. Unlike our previous kiss, this one was forceful. It was needy. It was hot. We’d shared tongues and lips many times that year. I’d pecked him on the cheek. I’d kissed him goodnight. Our kisses had become our language, and the kiss we shared now was electric, the fire between us casting shadows.
We were searching for each other. We were renewing the bond we’d built. We were tasting for the lost souls we’d found together.
I broke apart just long enough to whisper, “Tie me up, Law.” Law smiled against my lips before separating to go get the rope.
When Law met me, I was beyond death. I walked the world and saw only ash a
nd ruin. My body didn’t belong to me; it belonged to Morris. I saw it as a tool for his destruction. I didn’t believe in love; I worked in fear and hate. I let myself believe that because I hated, I was free. That was the opposite of the truth, though.
I was caged.
I was locked in with my demons. Law changed that, because Law made me love him. When you love someone, you have to exorcise your demons. When you’re alone, you can be swallowed up by them. Law forced me to exorcise my demons
Before Law, even before Morris, I’d been searching for clarity. I’d yearned for a love so true I could lose myself in it and not fear getting lost. I’d stared longingly at pictures of women tied up and feared that I would never have such trust in another. After Morris, I was convinced it was impossible.
Now I knew nothing was impossible, even love.
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About Heartless Hero
A brand new second chance bully romance from Mary Catherine Gebhard. Find out why Bestselling Author C.L. Matthews said "This is, and will be, my favorite bully book of all time” and author S.M. Soto called it “The best bully romance of 2019!"
There are rules to being Abigail Crowne’s bodyguard, rules to watching the infamous billion-dollar heiress, otherwise known as the Reject Princess.
