Page 49 of Cruel Fate

He crawls between the sheets, slides an arm under my head, one over my belly, and spoons me.

“I’m sorry I disappointed you.” It’s easier to speak if I don’t have to look at him.

“Hey, what’s this?” he asks, wiggling away and giving himself room to turn me over.

“I’m sorry I disappointed you. I couldn’t do what you wanted.”

Zane anchors himself over me, a knee between my legs. His cock is soft against my hip. “Listen, you could never disappoint me. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I was too rough. I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t, not really. I’m just not used...”

He kisses me, softly, nothing in his kiss but affection and understanding. “I’m happy you’re not. How we met...it’s selfish of me to be glad you don’t have a history like I do.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” I say, cupping his jaw. Long past five o’clock, whiskers cover his face, and he’s sexier than hell.

“It matters to me. I want to be good enough to deserve you.”

“You already are.”

“No, I’m not, but I’m going to try.”

I don’t know what he means. I don’t know how he can be any better a person than he already is, but the conviction shining in his eyes leaves no room for argument.

Letting him cuddle me, I want to tell him I love him, but I don’t feel the timing is right. I have more to prove before I do.

He wants to be good enough for me, but I want to be good enough for him, too.

Zane wakes me in the middle of the night, nuzzling my lips.

“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to open my eyes. I haven’t always been a good sleeper, keeping an eye on my bedroom door, waiting for an uninvited guest to try to crawl into my bed, or hearing my foster parents screaming at each other inthe middle of the night, or ignoring my foster siblings having nightmares. My nighttimes smoothed out during my years living with Maryanne, and when I finally moved into my own apartment, I slept well knowing I was in control of my own future and nothing could hurt me anymore.

I wonder how long Zane has been kissing me to wake me up. “Did you have another nightmare?” Pressing my hand to his cheek, I lean into his kisses.

He holds a condom packet, and the edge scrapes my arm.

“I want to make love to you.” Zane guides my hand to his erection, steel covered in velvet, strong, yet easily wounded.

Kind of like who he is. A hurt little boy hiding inside the man he needs to be.

I kiss him to give my permission, and he sheathes himself.

Nudging my legs apart, he settles on top of me.

Zane doesn’t take me fast and furiously, not like yesterday. He eases into me, and holds me close to his chest, kissing me deeply as he moves. This is what I always envisioned love to be. Passionate kisses and whispers of affection in the dark. I wrap my arms around his neck, and my hips match his tender rhythm.

There’s power behind his strokes, and I know he’s claiming me. But it’s more than physical. He’s taking my heart, and he’s giving me his.

“Stella,” he gasps, fisting my hair as he comes.

He screws into me until there’s not a centimeter of room left between us, and I let him, squeezing his shoulders, urging him to fall to pieces.

Shuddering, he relaxes, being careful not to crush my body under his weight. He smells of sweat, sex, and something scary only found late at night in the dark.

Desperation. Fear. Loneliness.

Confusion. Maybe even hate.

He hates whoever took his parents, like I hate whatever fate left me alone in the world.

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