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We’d dozed a little after that, and I’d woken as he reached for me, sliding me beneath him and kissing me deep, trying to keep me silent as he pushed inside me, then drilled me hard and fast into my bed.
I’d never been in such a sated, post-sex glow, but...something niggled me. A tiny worry because he still hadn’t taken his trousers off. He hadn’t tried to take me in another position.
Why?
What did Cem do to him?
And am I strong enough to find out?
I caught his stunning stare, doing my best to swallow my concerns. “Teddy says Ayla has many questions about you, and we should be prepared.”
He smiled softly. “I never imagined I’d be a father or that it would hit me right in the chest. I don’t even know her, but I love her.” He nuzzled into my neck. “Onu seviyorum, ama... seni daha çok seviyorum. Eminim bunu itiraf etmem beni bir canavar yapar ama hiç kimse sana olan sevgimin yanina bile yaklasamaz.” (I love her, but...I love you more. I’m sure this makes me a monster to admit, but no one will ever come close to how much I adore you).
Pulling away a little, he quirked his eyebrow, waiting to see if I would ask for a translation. But...five years was a long time. Five years and so many lonely nights. I’d taken an online language course—when I wasn’t obsessing over how to build Lunamare—and although my accent needed work and sometimes I got my verbs wrong, I was technically fluent in my husband’s tongue.
Running my fingers through his hair, I murmured, “Bunun seni bir canavar yapip yapmamasi umrumda degil çünkü ben de öyleyim. Kizimizi tüm kalbimle seviyorum. Ama seni tüm ruhumla seviyorum.” (I don’t care if that makes you a monster because I’m one too. I love our daughter with all my heart. But I love you with all my soul).
He froze.
“You learned.” Love lit up his dark stare until a ring of molten affection glowed.
“I learned for me. And for Ayla. I needed her to love you as much as I do. To know she came from the best man in the world and a country full of magic.”
“Fucking hell.” His voice caught thickly. “What did I do to deserve you, Neri?”
“You survived,” I whispered. “You survived when you were sixteen, and you survived now, despite my mistakes.”
He cupped my cheek with a trembling hand where we lay facing each other in bed. “Promise me, canim. Promise me we’ll never spend another night apart. Not a single day without each other.”
The deadly seriousness of his face and the familiar sternness of his delectable mouth made my blood thicken. Laying my hand on his chest, my fingertips buzzed with the thudding of his heart. “I promise. Forever and always.”
The moment stretched until it cut me with poignancy. Too sharp. Too vivid. Far too vicious with unsaid things. My gaze dropped to his unzipped trousers. He’d removed his belt and pulled his boxer-briefs back up, but the fact he still wore them finally wore me down. “Why won’t you get completely undressed? W-Why did you only take me in missionary when...we have a habit of using the walls, the floor, and everything in between?”
He smiled as if remembering our fast and furious antics, but then his face fell, and he sighed heavily. “You asked me before if I was hungry.”
I frowned at him changing the subject, but before I could reply, he added, “I’m not hungry, hayatim, but I am craving a shower.” He lowered his jaw and didn’t look into my eyes. “Would you...do you want to bathe with me?”
My heart clenched at the sudden wariness in him. The coiling uncertainty working through his body. Why was he uncertain? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was suddenly shy.
Urgency filled me to take away whatever worries he had, and I slipped from my bed. Slinking into my white robe hanging on the back of my door, I held out my hand. “Let’s shower.”
Without a word, he shifted to the side of the bed, swung his legs to the ground, then paused. His chest strained as he sucked in a breath, highlighting all those awful silver scars.
My hands balled as pure hate wracked through me.
If Cem was still alive, he wouldn’t be for too much longer.
I’d hire every mercenary available to eradicate him. I’d summon all the monsters in my soul and tear him apart. I’d happily go to jail for making him pay.
I didn’t care Cem was the reason my parents and I had never been prosecuted for harbouring an illegal immigrant. I didn’t care that he’d protected us in his own twisted way.
He’d hurt my soulmate.
And that was punishable by death.
“All it takes is a good reason and a bad day,” Wayne Gratt’s quote from that show with Stanley Tucci echoed in my mind.
