Page 66 of Dance with the Devil

“Get what?”

“When I called it hate sex before. You thought I was talking about me hating you.” She laughs, though the sound has no humor in it. “Yeah, right. I tried to hate you, you know. For throwing me away so easily…”

“I didn’t,” I cut in. “I was there. You didn't see me, but as much as I tried… I couldn’t stay away.

“Oh. I know.” At my look of surprise, she gives me the smallest smile. “Savannah saw you the other day. She told me tonight before she helped me sneak out of the house.”

Well, that makes a little more sense. Something told me that Damien Libellula had no idea that Genevieve was here, but if she didn’t care, I wasn’t going to, either. I doubted he relaxed at all when it came to locking her up to ensure her safety, but if Savannah let her free so she could come to me… maybe I have a better chance of making this work than I thought.

And then Genevieve adds, “I wanted to hate you. I couldn’t. I loved you too much. But you… You don’t love me, Cross. Youcan’t.”

No. Ishouldn’t.

But I do. I have from the start. My mistake was in doing exactly what she accused me of before: treating her like her brother instead of her partner. Instead of her lover. I thought I knew better, that she’d be safer without me, but I waswrong.

I gather her up in my arms.

I’m standing in the middle of a Springfield alley, my ass out, my cock semi-hard as if it has hopes of getting back inside of Genevieve where it belongs. I don’t want to think about what my bare feet have been stepping in. Anyone could walk out and see us. The bus boys taking out a load of garbage. One of thewaitresses coming out for a smoke.Anyone… but I don’t give a shit.

Right now? This moment is for my butterfly and me.

And as she melts against me before dissolving into tears—tears that could mean so many different things—I accept that Genevieve was spot-on when she called us both survivors.

We’re just survivors who we still have a shit ton of healing to do, but we’re going to do it.

Together.

TWENTY-THREE

FOREVER

GENEVIEVE

I’ve finally made it upstairs to Cross’s apartment.

That was my idea. As much as I wanted to stick my middle finger up at my brother by inviting Cross back to my room—making him pay for meddling in my relationship like that—I knew better. Savannah was risking her own marriage by doing the same, helping me sneak out earlier tonight. I have no doubt in my mind that Damien will forgive her, but if he found Cross in my bed?

Yeah. That might be a little too much too quickly.

Besides, the Devil’s Playground is so much closer to Cross’s place than mine. Once I assured him that I was okay,honest, he helped me pull my shorts back on, keeping my panties as a trophy that he proudly shoved in the back pocket of his jeans, he took his spot on his back, making it clear that he’s considered the back seat mine since the moment we met.

The fact that he had my personalized helmet strapped to his saddlebag is proof of that.

His old friend Rolls was the one who tipped him off that I was here. Whatever outcome he expected after following me to thePlayground, there must’ve been a part of him that knew I would be leaving with him one way or another. Whether it was because he was treating me like a little girl and dropping me off at home for my brother to take care of, or he actually saw me as a woman who knew whatshewanted, I have no clue, but seeing that helmet… realizing he didn’t get rid of it while we were apart… I knew that Cross da Silva was still mine.

He sure as hell fucked me like I washis.

I’ll be feeling this one tomorrow. Going up on my tiptoes, letting him bang me from behind while I clung to his motorcycle… yeah. My lower belly is red, my legs wobbly and weak—which is exactly why he needed to help me get my clothes back on—but I don’t give a shit.

He loves me. To hear this man tell me that he does… I would’ve done a lot worse than egg on his jealousy before tempting him to fuck me.

The sex was great. I’m still so new to it, but after the weeks he stayed away from me, I’m more than willing to make up for lost time. Especially since he agreed to bring me to his place after he finished letting me cry all over his naked chest.

I was ready to take him again. He refused to shuck his clothes once he let me upstairs, pointed out his kitchen, his bathroom, and, finally, his bedroom. I could tell he was just as aroused as I am, but he offered me something to drink instead.

He poured me a glass of orange juice. It was either that, water, or lemonade since, to my surprise, there isn’t a single caffeine product in his fridge. When I pointed it out, he said he never got hooked on the energy drinks again, and considering the deep purple circles under his eyes, I don’t think it’s because he’s learned better sleeping habits.

I took a few sips while he dropped a gentle kiss to the top of my head while rubbing my back.

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