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She wrenches from my grip and jumps to her feet. Her blue eyes, that are always so mild and beautiful, burn. I know that look—I’ve seen it in the mirror for years. She’s starting to realize for the first time that she’s a victim and she has been for years.
“No,” she says sharply. “I’m not drugging myself so I don’t have to feel this. I told Westin I didn’t understand why you wanted revenge, but I’m starting to get it now. They don’t deserve to live after everything they’ve done.”
Her eyes are so wide her irises look small and her pupils are blown. She’s frantic, trapped. I get up and she goes still as I rest my palm against her cheek.
“What do you want me to do to them?” I ask.
I let her take as long as she needs with the question. Her eyes are hazy and she’s gazing up at me like she’s never seen me before.
Maybe it’s because until now, she never really has. Now she sees all my faults, my failures, my desire for justice and vengeance. She sees the lengths I went to make her mine and she has to know I’ll do anything to keep her.
She pushes her face into my palm, her lashes fluttering shut.
“Tell me what you want,” I murmur.
“I want you to love me,” she whispers.
“Redbird,” I say. “There’s never been a question of that.”
She pulls back from me, and for a second, I think she’s angry. But then she turns and pushes herself against the wall. Palms flat on the sanded wood. Her spine arcs like a cat and she pushes her ass out, just enough I know she’s asking for my cock inside her.
Fuck. It’s not the right time for that.
“Keira,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Say it back.”
Her eyes squeeze shut tight. “Let me feel you.”
I close the space between us, mindful our steps can be heard downstairs. Her breath hitches and her soft ass pushes back against the front of my pants. Our breathing quickens in tandem. I yank her pants and underwear down to the floor.
“Please,” she whispers.
I gather her hair with my other hand, dragging her head to the side. Then I take my cock out, pushing my pants down just low enough, and spit into my hand. Rubbing it over my length and her soaked entrance. When I enter her, she lets her head fall back against me and a little moan escapes her lips.
She feels the burn as I slide in. Her muscles fight, trying to adjust.
“Good girl,” I breathe. “All the way for me now.”
She whimpers as I bottom out. Her tight inner muscles clamp down around me. I drag out halfway and thrust slowly back in. I push my face into her neck, bracing my foot back to accommodate the difference in our height, and fuck her gently against the wall.
“Tell me,” I pant.
She moans, her voice muffled. “I would have slept with you that first night. You didn’t need the contract, I would have fucked you.”
My hips move, pumping.
“Fucking isn’t enough, I want to love you.”
I don’t say the rest—let me love you, let me be your man, let me make you the mother of my children. Take my name and the land that I love.She’s not ready for me to say all those things to her yet.
But, God, they’re right on the tip of my tongue.
“You could have just asked,” she pants.
“Would you have said yes?”
She doesn’t answer, but we both know. She wouldn’t have accepted my terms if she hadn’t been forced into it. We both know that whatever we have is born from desperation. Maybe that makes it taste all the better.
Like salt in caramel.
