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“Maxime,” she moans, every kind of emotion coloring her voice.
“Say it again,” I demand with a growl against her ear. I want to hear more of that rainbow, of that complex spectrum of feelings. It fuels me to move harder, to make her shout it.
“I love you,” she cries out.
Everything inside me simultaneously combusts and freezes. I fill her up with release even as my body goes as rigid as a rod. I’m ecstatic and devastated. I’m roaring in victory and hurting with something I can’t name. For the first time in my life, Delphine’s diagnosis is a heavy burden on my shoulders. Pretty little innocent flowers turn their faces to the sun, not to monsters like me. The only reward I can offer is sinking as deep as her body can take me and pounding my ownership into her with a too-harsh rhythm.
Struggling for breath, I push up on my elbows to frame her face between my palms. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes. I kiss them away, offering my lips in exchange for my lack of words.
My thrusts turn even more grueling. I can come ten times more like this. Pleasure already builds again at the base of my spine, but I slow my pace to time our releases. When we finally come, it’s a powerful eruption of intertwined relief.
I fucking fly.
She falls.
All I can give is catching her.
Chapter 16
Zoe
I wake up to the first glorious day after another freezing winter and realize this ocean has been my view for the past eighteen months. Eighteen months of giving myself to Maxime. The realization jars me. I stare at my face in the mirror, the make-up brush frozen in my hand. I’m trying. I really am. I can’t say he’s not treating me well. After I dropped the bomb about loving him, nothing has changed for the better, but at least nothing has changed for the worst, either. We’re maintaining our status quo.
Maxime steps from the dressing room wearing a white shirt and blue suit tailored to the latest fashion, paired with Italian shoes. He looks smart and impossibly handsome. He’s focused on fitting a cufflink, but when he catches my gaze, he walks up behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. Our eyes remained locked for a moment before he swoops down and places a kiss on my neck.
“Good morning, cherie.” His gray eyes turn a shade warmer. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” With the restriction in my throat, the words sound thick.
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I force a smile. “I’m running late, that’s all.”
The lie comes with effort. He knows me well enough by now not to buy it. Besides, I’m always early.
Kneading my shoulders, he says, “Try again.”
He won’t give up until I tell him. Biting my lip, I gauge his mood. “I’ve just realized it’s been eighteen months.”
Some of the warmth in his gaze dissipates. “We should go out and celebrate.”
It’s hardly something I want to celebrate, but I know better than to fail this test. “Whenever you want.”
He brushes my hair over my shoulder. “I meant to speak to you about tonight.”
The way he hesitates makes me tense. “What about tonight?”
“We have to attend a gallery opening.” Searching my face, he adds, “With my family.”
“Your whole family?”
“Everyone, including Alexis. I wouldn’t expose you to them if I didn’t have to, but this is an important event. We have a lot invested in the gallery.”
“I could stay at home?” I offer hopefully.
“No.” His tone is curt. “Hiding you at home would send the wrong message.”
“Which is?”
“That I don’t respect you.”
“Oh.” His respect never crossed my mind. “Do you?”
“Of course.” He twists a strand of hair around his finger. “I admire you.”
“If people think you don’t respect me, how would that be a problem?”
“People you don’t respect are expendable.”
Goosebumps break out over my arms. “I see.” No one has tried to kill me since the drive-by shooting, but the threat is never out of my thoughts for long.
“All right.” My smile is shaky. I don’t like Maxime’s family. I definitely don’t look forward to seeing them at a gala event, which will be stressful enough as it is.
He squeezes my shoulders. “Sylvie will be there.”
At least there’s something to look forward to.
Gripping my chin, he turns my face to the side and kisses my lips. “I’ll see you tonight. Be ready at seven.”
I hurry through the rest of my grooming and go down to the kitchen to prepare my latest breakfast craze—a spirulina and berry smoothie.
Francine regards me from where she’s rolling out dough for a quiche. She’s long since given up on setting out my breakfast, but she still dumps the granulated sugar in the trashcan and replaces it with cubes. In turn, I buy sticky brown sugar and fill up the pot I bought. It’s a childish circle of spitefulness, but neither of us is prepared to surrender.
