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“Yes! Stop fucking crying. I can’t take it.”
I stomped my foot. “No. I will not stop crying. I ache for you. And I will mourn what happened to you, what’s still happening to you, if I want to!”
“I’m going to lose it, City.” He turned so he couldn’t see my face. “I’m not fucking lying.”
I ground my teeth and glared at him. “Then lose it. Do something about all these tears if you don’t like them.”
He zipped his attention my way and gaped at me, his shock momentarily ebbing his rage.
“Do something,” I begged, feeling my heartache drip down each cheek.
Whimpering, he clutched his head. But instead of coming toward me, he turned away and rushed for the door, leaving me alone to cry by myself.
A sob caught in my throat, and for a moment, I didn’t think I’d be able to breathe through it. Then the air came, and I shuddered with defeat.
He’d just left me. I couldn’t believe he’d really leave me.
My knees gave out, so I half-crumbled, half-sat on the floor. Then I curled into a fetal position on the carpet, hugging myself, my head about to explode from the pain throbbing between my temples.
The door reopened so quietly I didn’t hear it. I didn’t even realize he’d returned until he growled, “God fucking damn it,” directly above me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
The next thing I knew, his arms were sliding gently around me, warmth and muscle, before my cheek was pressed against a steel chest where his heartbeat thumped loudly in my ear.
“Knox,” I whispered.
“I’m right here,” he said as he lifted me, then carried me from the living room and into my bedroom. He only paused to toe off his shoes, then he crawled into bed with me still in his arms. As he lay down, he draped me on top of him, and I curled around him, hungry and desperate for this contact at long last.
“I can’t believe this happened to you,” I sobbed.
He wrapped me closer and buried his nose into my hair.
It was the most amazing feeling in the world. I relaxed on top of him, so relieved and exhausted to finally be home. I knew I should’ve been the one comforting him, but he was the one who calmed me.
I probably fell asleep within seconds.
I woke rested and yet drained. Day must’ve passed into night, because it was dark in the room. I knew he was still there, though; I was plastered against him like superglue.
His even breaths were like a balm to my ears, and I sighed. I was in bed with Knox Parker. Finally. Though my eyes were gritty and I was sore, plus my heart ached from everything we’d gone through earlier, I stretched like a contented kitten.
I still couldn’t believe what I’d learned, still couldn’t wrap my brain around the horrors my man had suffered. It only made me more determined to heal him, though, to show him there was still good left in the world, life was still worth living, and being with the one you loved was all that mattered.
Letting my hands explore, I slid them up his arms, awed by how much they’d grown. I had no idea a bicep could actually get this big, much less Knox’s. He’d never been small, but...wow, he was massive now. And his skin was so sleek and hard, like slick silk over steel.
My nails scraped gently up the side of his throat and over his cheekbone, delighting in every aspect of him. I was going to make him see, one way or another, that no matter what, we could still be together. We could get past this, and heal, and be happy again.
He sucked in a breath, mumbling, “City.”
“Yes?” I stretched up to kiss his jaw.
He jerked. “What?” Sounding more coherent, he began to sit up, but I pressed a hand to his chest, urging him back down.
“You don’t have to go yet.”
“Felicity.” His voice reminded me of how he’d gotten that rasp. They’d kicked him, damaged his voice box, damaged his soul. But I wasn’t going to let that damage us.
I finally had my man in my arms. Kissing my way down his neck, I slid my hand up his chest. His breath caught, but a second later, he caught my wrist.
“What’re you doing?”
