Page 103 of Ruthless Regret

Her breathing changes, her body tensing beneath mine, her legs tightening around me, and when she comes, her whimpers and cries trigger something inside me and I follow her down into oblivion.

For a time the only sound in the room is heavy breathing. My heart is racing, my chest heaving, my body slick with sweat.

I should move. Roll off her before I crush her under my weight. But I don’t think I can. I’m not sure I have any control over my body.

Her head moves, and soft lips press against my jaw, my cheek. Turning my head, I capture her mouth with mine in a slow, languid kiss, before easing out of her body and carefully sitting up.

Ashley doesnt move, gazing up at me through half-lidded eyes.

“Stay where you are. I’ll get something to clean up.” My voice is still a little rough around the edges.

She doesn’t speak, but a small smile curves her lips.

I get to my feet, wonder for a second if they’re going to hold me up or if I’m going to crash onto my face, then cautiously take a step forward. I stay upright.

So far, so good.

I cross the room and go into the attached bathroom, find a washcloth, wet it, and go back to the bedroom. Ashley’s exactly where I left her, and I take a moment to admire the lines of her body in the moonlight.

Her head turns and she catches me looking.

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.” And for the first time in longer than I can remember, it’s the truth.

I settle on the edge of the bed, and gently run the cloth between her legs. She squirms away.

“Still too sensitive,” she says in reply to my arched eyebrow.

I laugh quietly, and the sound surprises me. When was the last time I laughed? I don’t remember. It’s been a while, that’s all I can say for certain.

Unaware of my thoughts, Ashley sits up and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”

I watch as she walks across the room, hips swaying, and I’m almost tempted to follow her, and start round two, but I don’t. Instead, I stretch out on the bed, and close my eyes, reliving the way Ashley’s touch burned my skin, the way her body felt against mine.

For the first time in fourteen years, I feel something other than anger and bitterness. Something dangerously close to hope and contentment. I’m not sure if that terrifies or thrills me.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

ASHLEY

I waketo sunlight filtering through the curtains and the weight of an arm draped over my waist. For a moment, I'm frozen, memories of last night rushing back in vivid detail. Zain's hands on my skin, his mouth hot against mine. The way he looked at me, like he was seeing me for the first time. The way I clung to him, afraid he'd disappear if I let go.

I turn my head slowly. He admitted that he doesn’t sleep much, and I don’t want to be the one to disturb him now. His face is turned toward me, relaxed in a way I've never seen before. It’s jarring to see him like this. Gone are the hard lines of anger and bitterness, replaced by a vulnerability that makes my heart clench.

My eyes trail down his body, taking in the muscular planes of his chest, the defined abs, pausing at his exposed hip where the sheet has slipped down. That's when I see them—two scars, stark against his skin. One is a thin, precise line about three inches long. The other is jagged, angry-looking even after what must be years.

Did he get these in prison? Because of me?

Guilt slams into me with the force of a freight train.

Fourteen years.

I stolefourteen yearsof his life.

How many more scars does he carry that I can’t see? How deep do the wounds I inflicted really go?

Without thinking, I reach out, my fingers hovering just above the marks.

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