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“But I never, ever want you to not walk into a room and know that every part of me, fucked up man and the lost boy, belong to you.”
He could see the effect his words were having on her. Her lips trembled as she broke their gazes and looked down at his hand. Taking a deep breath in, one that pushed the bite he’d given her on her cleavage into stark relief, she traced the tape on his left ring finger with shaky hands.
And then she peeled it off carefully, seeing the small tattoo he’d gotten two nights ago.
He looked down at it himself, pleased with the curvature, the one word loud and clear.
Morana.
“Oh shit,” he heard her gasp before she looked up at him, openly crying now, her tears making her eyes squint in an adorable way. Though he was certain she’d kick him if he said so.
“I’m so fucking in love with you, Tristan Caine,” she blubbered, attacking his chest with her face and pressing kisses against his pounding heart. He tamped down the immediate disbelief he felt at her words and breathed deeply, accepting that she – beautiful, smart Morana Vitalio who could do a million times better than him – loved his damaged ass. Too bad he was never going to let her realize that. She was fucking stuck with him now.
He pressed a little kiss to the top of her head, enjoying how small she felt against him. He forgot sometimes, with how fierce she was, that she was tiny.
He wanted to tell her he loved her too.
And he didn’t know how to tell her that, how to verbalize that. Maybe one day he would. He hoped someday he could. Until then, he could just show her.
He took her out on a date to Crimson.
It felt fitting, given everything had begun there. He ate the food, then took her to the bathroom and ate her out because she was too sore to take him and he couldn’t help himself. But he liked that look in her eyes, the one right after she came down from an orgasm. She looked at him with this dopey smile that made something rumble in the hollow of his chest. He was going to keep her high on that shit just to keep getting that particular smile every day of his life.
Now, standing in the parking lot of their penthouse, he watched as she looked at his gift.
“You’ve got to be shitting me!” the woman beside him jumped in excitement, giving him a smile so bright it fucking knocked his breath out.
The three guys behind him chuckled. He wasn’t entirely fond of them yet but they had followed him to Shadow Port from Tenebrae for their own reasons and one of them, Vin, was actually pretty cool with knives. Dante trusted him implicitly and that was good enough for Tristan. While he set up the system in the city, he had wanted to have a few familiar faces he could trust with him.
Right now, the only thing that kept him from punching them was the fact that they could all see the little hickeys Tristan had left on the back of her neck last night. They knew she was his. That pleased him immensely.
Fuck, he really was the caveman she called him where she was concerned.
It had been exactly this primal need to claim her, to show her she was his, after the party last night that had led to the entire night of sexual marathon that had drained him of every last drop of cum and sweat. He had attacked her the moment they had entered the penthouse, fucking her against those damn windows she loved so much, on the kitchen counter, on the stairs, before finally moving into the bedroom. To say he had been exhausted by the end would be an understatement.
He watched as she stared at the red ’69 Mustang, an exact replica of her old car, her hand touching the metal of the car. He knew she missed her old car, knew she’d been attached to it.
He indicated for the guys to leave them alone, and stepped forward to where she stood.
“You like it?” he asked, needing to know his choice wasn’t in vain.
She nodded.
Before he could say something, she took his hand in her small ones and pulled him to the elevator, hitting the button for home.
“Thank you for the lovely first date, Mr. Caine,” she looked up at him from behind her glasses. He traced her swollen lips with his eyes and turned to see their reflections in the mirror. It never got old. The first time he’d leaned back against the wall and watched them together, that first night she had stayed in his territory, something had fluttered inside his chest, seeing her tiny form beside his.
She looked just the same but she smiled more now. He didn’t think she even realized it but he caught her biting her lip more, talking more, moving her hands more as she talked. She was more alive and seeing her that way made him feel so fucking good. He knew he was damaged. He knew he would never completely be able to give her everything she deserved. But he liked to fucking try and every time she smiled, it was his reward.
It was exactly what her father had made him promise with that dying breath.
‘Take care of her,’ the man had said and Tristan, in that one moment, had connected with him. They both knew the plain of losing everything they held dear, both knew the hope that kept them clinging to the brink of sanity. He had seen the man over the years a few times, every time he had been stalking his daughter. Not that he would ever tell her the depth of his obsession. No, that wouldn’t do.
The doors slid open, bringing him back to the moment, and like a beacon, she went straight to the windows, looking at the spectacular night view as thunder crackled in the sky.
She took off her heels and threw them to the side, sitting down in front of the window, the room dark just as it had been the night his life changed.
She pat the space beside her, looking up at him with bright eyes.
