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“How did they die?” She paused. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Same illness that’s taking Ellie.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. But thank you.”
She touched the sadness on his face and wished she could rub the wrinkles away. His gaze sharpened on her as she tried.
“See this is another thing I like about you, Daisy,” he murmured, his voice oh, so intimate that it sent chills chattering through her blood. “You’ve been beaten and hurt but you still try to soothe others.”
“You’ve only just met me.” She lowered her hand with a self-deprecating shake of her head.
“Stop saying that.” He brought her hand back to his face. “I met you a year ago. I saw you plenty. I noticed you, Daisy, even though you didn’t notice me. You used to bring potted plants to the clubhouses when you didn’t think anyone was watching. You were the first to organize luxuries for the Faithful like a billiards table or a gaming center. Even though half of them didn’t deserve it, you gave them things. It wasn’t Julius. It was you. You hated their sadness. You wanted to bring them a glimmer of joy, of normalcy, of hope in a dark time.”
“But then I hurt them if I needed to. Their deaths stain my soul.”
“He made you.”
“Maybe I wanted to.” And there it was. The cold hard truth of the pain she kept locked in the cage of her heart. “That’s why I was in a state at the yard. I wanted to hurt. Sometimes that’s a faster way to eliminate the despair. It feels good.”
“Does it?” His brow raised. “Does it really? In here.” He patted her chest. “Or do you feel like you have a purpose when you’re doing it. Maybe taking orders from Julius meant you didn’t have to worry about making mistakes.”
Her lashes lowered.
He lifted her chin, so she met his eyes again. “But, Daze. Mistakes are how we learn. We need them.”
“They don’t feel good.”
“Not when you make them alone.”
His words hung suspended in the air between them for a moment before he stroked her hair and whispered, “Go to sleep. You’re tired.”
“But you’re not tired.” She stifled a yawn. “I should be able to stay awake longer.”
“You were also tortured not long ago.”
“I’m fine.” She leaned in to kiss him, to prove she was okay.
It felt right. Needed. He opened his lips and kissed her slowly back. As soon as she tasted him, everything clenched tight in her lower stomach region and she shuffled closer, hardening their contact.
“Daze…” Axel gave a pained groan and pulled away. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me.” She tried to kiss him again, but he stopped her with a shake of his head.
“I’m going to regret this, but you need to rest.” He exhaled and started stroking her hair again. “I’ll be here when you wake.”
“Hug me?” she mumbled, as sleep stole over her vision.
“Always.”
As Axel’s arms surrounded her, she knew he was right. They didn’t have to know all the answers now. This was another thing she knew for sure. And being in his arms, surrounded by his heat was everything.
Daisy woke to the sound of the shower running. Maybe she hadn’t turned it off. She sat up and noticed something else not right. Axel wasn’t beside her.
He said he would stay.
Feeling her sanity tumble into the darkness again, she tossed the still damp blanket away and went for the bathroom door. It was open a crack.
She gasped.
Axel was in the shower. Naked. One hand on the tiled wall, his biceps bulging and rock hard. His other hand on his swollen erection, squeezing and stroking. His eyes were closed, his head dipped, and he frowned as he worked himself. As if it hurt.
From the safety of her dark room, she watched through the crack, unable to tear her gaze away from the mesmerizing water sluicing over his muscular body. How the rivulets carved patterns down the toned hills and valleys. How his pecs and abdominals flexed with each stroke, beating in a visual symphony.
Should she leave him be?
Or…
Axel looked up. He locked eyes with her.
