Page 79 of Cruel Hearts

I don’t know what she means. I know I hurt her in her apartment. I hadn’t believed her, and she paid the price as I rammed my aching cock inside her. She could mean how I broke her heart. Or the loneliness. Or being on the run. Or Maryanne’s death. She could mean anything—her life hasn’t been easy, and most of that is my fault.

Instead of asking and risking ruining the moment, I say, “I know, baby,” and kiss her again.

Lifting her hips and widening her knees, she invites me to touch, and I do, my fingers inching under the elastic of her panties and finding her slippery heat. My fingertips nudge herslit, and she gasps and starts to tremble. God, I don’t want to hurt her anymore, and I move to pull my hand away but she murmurs, “No. Don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

Gently, I part the delicate folds of her pussy and find her tight, so tight.

She whimpers.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” I need all my control not to rush. My cock is throbbing, and I’ve wanted absolutely nothing since I took her than to do it again.

That time I showed her how angry I was, how much I hurt, how broken my heart is, but this time I’ll show her love. How much I treasure her. How much I want a second chance after all this is done.

I push the tip of my finger inside her and ease in the rest of the way. Her muscles tighten, and I twist, tenderly, opening her.

Her hips meet the pressure wanting more.

I want to give her time and pull my finger out. She mews in disappointment.

“Patience, baby.” I sprinkle kisses all over her face. “I love you. Let me show you.”

“Zane.” Her voice quivers.

So much heartbreak in the way she says my name.

“I know.”

As tenderly as I can, I push two fingers inside her. They glide in without resistance, and her muscles tremor. I move them in and out, preparing her. This time, she’ll enjoy our intimacy.

I find her clit, and she rubs my cock through my pants.

Heat fills my belly.

“Zane, I need you.”

“Are you sure you’re ready? I don’t want to keep hurting you, Stella. I can’t bear it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Then take your dress off.”

I slide my hand out of her panties and undo my tie and unbutton my shirt.

She pulls her dress over her head. Her bra is a plain white lace, but that isn’t why the breath hisses out of my lungs in shock and dismay.

The bruise from the day that fucking asshole pushed her onto the tracks blossomed into full color. Bright purple in places, so dark, almost black in others, it covers one side underneath her breast and down her ribs, stopping just above her hip bone.

I smooth my fingers over it, and goosebumps pop along her skin. “Christ, Stella. Whoever fucking did this to you, I’m going to pay them back a hundred times over. By the time I’m done, they’ll wish they’d never heard your name.”

She rests her and on my arm. “Don’t think about it now.”

I have no choice. Her thigh is just as raw, thick scabs covering her delicate skin. “What happened?”

“A car tried to run me down. I almost let it. It was the night I found Maryanne, and all I wanted was to die too.”

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