Page 75 of Savage Heart

She gasped at his words, her tears still freely flowing down her cheeks and onto his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry for reading that fucking letter and thinking I knew better than you about your own life. I’m sorry that instead of loving you and supporting you, I tore you apart, I lied, I forced you out of my life—I broke my own fucking heart, too, goddammit!” He was vibrating, his emotions pouring from him—and she felt it all. “But I only have myself to blame for all of it. If I had just talked to you, you and I would never have been apart. I would have claimed you as my ol’ lady, I’d have been there to watch my baby grow in your belly, I’d have been there tosee Erika come into this world, I could have held her, kissed her, promised her the fucking world—and I am so fucking sorry that didn’t happen. You have no idea how sorry I am that I wasn’t there for you two.” It seemed that he was crumbling, too, as he stumbled his way to the living room with her in his embrace, then collapsed onto the couch. He fell, like his legs could no longer hold him up, and she landed against him. He took a shuddering breath, and she pulled away, her tears still flowing, but slower, as she took in his face.

Devastation. Self-hatred. Anguish.

His gaze collided with hers, and she felt his pain right down to the depths of her soul.

He reached out, cupping her face with one hand, the other arm remained wrapped around her waist, holding her in place against him.

His voice rough, deep, pain-filled, he continued, “I’m so fucking sorry that I used Amelia to hurt you, baby. That first time I saw you in nearly nine years…it hurt, so fucking much—and I didn’t need to remember what I’d done to you, because I’d never forgotten. I thought about you everything fucking day, Liz—every fucking day. There wasn’t a day that I didn’t wonder where you were, what you were doin’, if you’d gotten married, had kids—living the life that should have been mine.” He swallowed, his eyes growing glossy, and something inside her warmed at the sight. He was tearing himself apart, and she was there to witness it. “I didn’t know then that you’d never left the fucking city; I’d thought you’d returned from California, having lived this amazing life without me. I wanted to know every damn thing about your life, and I knew I had no right to it. I knew I’d have to see you, and that every time I did it would hurt like hell…and I wanted to save myself, to make sure that when you came around, you kept your distance. Amelia…she was easy. I knew I could use her as a sort of wall between us. And that first time youcame around, and she was there with me…you tried to hide it, but I saw it, the anger. The jealousy. And it felt so fucking good to know you still wanted me, that you were still affected by me—because I was still affected by you.”

For the first time in what felt like hours, Liz spoke, her voice ragged, “It wasn’t just jealousy, Trouble; you hurt me, every time I saw you two together, especially since you weren’t hiding your intentions. I knew you were doing it on purpose, throwing her in my face every time I came around the clubhouse.” God, it hurt, remembering all those times she came through the door, and he was there, with Amelia, kissing her, fingering her, touching her, letting her touch him, suck his cock—right out in the open. It had been a kick in the face, a punch in the gut, and a stab to the chest each time. She’d told herself she was immune to him, over him, over what she felt for him, that she didn’t love him, that he hadn’t been the love of her life, her soulmate. But it was a lie. Each time, seeing them together had sliced another piece off her heart, had darkened another piece of her soul.

Trouble brushed his thumb over her cheek, sweeping away the tears, caressing her heated skin.

Her voice cracking, she asked, “Why did you keep doing it? Once you knew it affected me, why did you keep doing it?”

He tensed, his arm around her waist turning to a band of steel, as if making sure she couldn’t move. He heaved a sigh, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“I was an asshole, Skizzy. I have no excuse for what I did. I just….” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. Opening them again, he admitted, “Seeing you, knowing you were no longer mine, that I had no right to know you anymore…it hurt like a motherfucker. And…I wanted to hurt you back. I know it’s fucked up, that it’s what cowards do, but we agree that when it comes to my emotions, I’m a fucking spineless prick. Put a gun in my hand, point me to an enemy, and I’ll run in, roarin’…but you put a woman’s heart in my hand, make me fall in love with her…it scared the shit out of me. And I hurt you because I hurt….” Sitting up, he pulled her closer, until her face was inches from his. She didn’t fight it. She couldn’t. They’d both been flayed, laid open, vulnerable, wounded…and she needed him to help her put herself back together. Just as he needed her.

Trouble’s gaze held hers as emotions flashed, swirled, and dominated his eyes. Anger. Regret. Sorrow. Grief. Lust. Need. Love.

He leaned in, his mouth brushing hers, his breath drifting over her heated lips.

“I love you, Elizabeth. And…I’m sorry.”

Her thoughts jumbled, her heart aching, her body thrumming, Liz let it go—let it all go.

With a groan, she pressed her lips to his.

She was done running from trouble; it was time to embrace it.

Liz shrieked as the big bastard rolled to his feet, then bent over, picked her up, and threw her over his shoulder.

“Holy shit,” she hissed, the blood rushing to her head.

“Quiet,” he whispered, slapping her ass. “Don’t wake up Erika; she’s a fuckin’ cockblocker.”

Liz giggled, agreeing with him.

Once the bedroom door shut behind him, stopped just inside the door, and slowly dropped her, sliding her heated body over his hard, massive frame. She shuddered. Once she was on her feet, she stared up into his eyes.

“Take off your clothes, baby, I don’t know how long I can wait before I fuck you.”

Trembling with need, Liz didn’t hesitate to pull her tank off, leaving her tits exposed in her lacy black balconet bra. Trouble hissed, biting his lip. He reached out and cupped her breast, squeezed it, his thumb and forefinger pinching the peaked nipple.

She gasped, then moaned. It had been too long since she’d been touched, and much longer since she was touched by him.

“Fuck, baby, still so responsive.”

He reached around her, and quickly and efficiently undid her bra, letting it fall to the floor between them. Growling, he dipped his head, and took her nipple into his hot mouth, and sucked.

She threw her head back, forcing her tit into his mouth, and moaned.

His hands weren’t idle, grabbing her waist, and helping her divest herself of her yoga pants. Before she even realized what had happened, Trouble had gotten her complete naked.

Damn!

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