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“That’s it, baby. Come for me, Angel. So fucking perfect. So beautiful.”
It was too much pleasure—she was drowning in it. Unable to draw breath, she surrendered, growing limp as she shattered again and again. He bit down hard on the back of her neck, sending a jolt of pain laced in surrendering lust shooting through her. He eclipsed her body and soul in euphoria.
Bently roared a moment later, emptying inside her, filling her with his release. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, staying close, holding on to what they shared just a little longer, like he too never wanted it to end. Nothing but the sound of their heavy breaths mingled with the steady beat of rain pelting the roof.
She was boneless and more satisfied than she’d ever thought possible. This man had given her one of the best gifts in the world. He’d shown her that she wasn’t broken. There wasn’t anything wrong with her—she’d just needed the right man in her life. A man whom she could trust. A man whom she loved.
“I love you,” she said, before she could filter the words in her sex-hazed brain.
Bently’s body stiffened before he slipped out of her and said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Chapter 34
Bently
Alarm bells blared in Bently’s head. A heavy weight settled over his chest. He’d just majorly fucked up. Panic squeezed his rib cage. For the first time in his life, he’d had sex with a woman and it was so much more than just a physical release. He’d made love to Belle.
And everyone I love gets hurt because of me.
He couldn’t let that happen to her. He should have kicked her out as soon as she came to his door. But . . . he’d been too weak. What if whoever was harassing him turned their sights on to Belle? Fuck! Once again, he’d messed up. She’d never forgive him for this.
“What do you mean? I wanted this,” Belle said, sounding confused.
She had every right to be. He was a selfish bastard and he’d used her like he’d sworn not to. Taken what he couldn’t give back, just like the thief he was.
He’d never thought he’d be capable of loving a woman. What did I do? What if that demented prick was outside right now? What if . . .
“I’m so sorry. I never meant . . .” . . . to put you in the middle of this. He found his sweatpants on the floor and pulled them on.
“You never meant what?” she asked, her voice tinged with rising anger.
His dick pulsed—the traitor wanted another round with this sweet angel. But that would never happen. Because he loved Belle, and that meant the best thing to do would be to let her go. She’d be safer without him in her life.
“This. I never meant for it to get this far.” I never meant to fall in love with you too. He stood, searching in the darkness for his shirt. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the rain began to die down.
She let out a choked sound. “Are you pushing me away again? I got too close and now you’re running scared like you have every other time?”
“No!”
“Bently?”
“You need to leave. Right now.” So you’ll be safe.
The lights flicked back on, and the look in her eyes shattered what was left of his damaged heart. Anger, pain, and finally resolve. She stood, every inch of her naked glory tense and rigid. She reached for her clothes.
His heart ached. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her until the morning. He wanted to take it all back and wipe that agonized look off her face. But instead he stood motionless as she held her chin high and got dressed like the warrior she was.
She gazed back at him, opening her mouth and then snapping it shut. She shook her head. He was the biggest asshole.
You’re nothing but a failure. You ruin everything you touch. You’re weak. His father’s voice played in his mind. He’d been right after all. But not anymore. He’d do the right thing and keep the woman he loved away from him so she’d be safe.
Belle turned to leave, and he followed her downstairs in torturous silence. She unlocked the deadbolt and stopped, turning to face him with watery eyes. His heart lurched.
“If I walk out this door, whatever this was between us is over. I won’t be treated this way again. So you need to think really hard if that’s what you truly want, or if this is just your trauma talking.”
She staggered him. Couldn’t he just . . . The message written in blood and the dead pig flashed in his mind. He hadn’t told her about the picture they’d found in his truck.
He shook his head. She wasn’t safe.
