Page 90 of Cruel Hearts

I need to stop being stupid and believe all of it was. It makes no difference when he stopped being my friend. We’re adversaries now. Enemies.That’swhat I need to remember.

“So what you’re saying is, I better eat.”

She huffs a little. It sounds like a laugh, and I hope it is. “Yeah.”

I lean toward her, and she leans toward me. I place my mug on the little glass table, and I cuddle her against my chest.

She feels good in my arms.

Flesh and blood.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, my lips pressed against the top of her head.

“Okay. Mel ordered us some clothes, too. She went a little crazy, and I got mad at her. She said you’re filthy rich, and that it didn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t. Stella, if you need clothes, you need clothes.”

“It’s not right if all you’re doing is using someone.”

“She wasn’t using me. She wasn’t ordering clothes for herself, was she? She did it for you and Quinn. I told her to.”

“Thank you, then. I didn’t need so much.”

The words stick in my throat. I’d give her whatever she wanted if she would stay with me, but I can’t buy her.

Not like Nathalie.

She hates I paid for Nathalie’s time. Well, Ash paid, but her time wasn’t free, it wasn’t given freely, and that’s the main thing.It’s funny that out of the billions of people on this earth, I fell in love with a woman who can’t be bought. I only love her more for it.

“Do you want to give Maryanne a funeral?”

Stella draws back, her eyes wide. “She has children, and they hated she fostered. They won’t want me to interfere.”

“Then maybe a memorial service. Just for us. After. To thank her.”

Stella looks at me, the moon reflecting in her eyes. “I would like that. Thank you.”

“Anything, baby.”

I kiss her, expecting her to pull away, but she doesn’t. She leans into my chest, and I lick at her lips, asking her to let me in. She does, and our tongues dance as I skim my hand up her thigh. My fingertips meet her panties, and she widens her legs, rolling onto her back.

I wiggle onto her lounger and curl into her side. I slide a finger inside her, and she’s hot and wet.

Wrapping her arms around my neck, she lifts her hips. “Zane.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes. No. It’s all happening so fast. I’m confused and hurt and I can’t promise—”

“I know, Stella. We don’t have a future. I know.” I might as well put the worst case scenario out there. What I hope will happen and what will come to be are two different things. I let her down in such a way she might never recover, and there’s no way in hell I can blame her for that.

“I want to try, but I need time.”

“Take all the time you need, even if that means forever. I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

“Don’t give up on me, please.” She looks at me, and her expression is so wounded, so wrought with pain, there’s nothing I can do but promise her I’ll fight until my last breath.

It’s what she deserves.

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