Page 148 of Beautiful Cruelty

She trembles under my touch, her body responding even as her mind must be trying to piece together at what just happened between us. I don't deserve this tenderness from her. I don't deserve anything from her.

But as I look up at her face, water streaming down her cheeks mixing with what might be fresh tears, I see something in her eyes that mirrors the ache in my chest. No words pass between us. None are needed.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have?—"

Her fingers press against my lips, silencing my apology. Her touch is gentle, and it beckons me to stand until she’s gazing up at me again. The shower continues pouring over us as she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me. Her lips are soft and tender, nothing like the biting fury from before.

Her hand slides down my chest, wrapping around my cock. Despite everything, my body responds instantly to her touch. She strokes me with the same tenderness as her kiss, coaxing me back to hardness. Steam swirls around us, making everything dreamlike and hazy.

When she breaks the kiss, her amber-flecked eyes meet mine. "Make love to me," she whispers.

The words strike something deep in my chest. Not fucking. Not punishing her body with mine. Making love.

Love.

The word echoes in my head as I stare into her eyes. I don't deserve her tenderness, her forgiveness, or her love—if that's something she ever felt for me.

And if she did feel love for me once, I know that it's gone now.

Especially after what I just did to her on the stairs.

The water streams down her cheeks, washing away the tears and makeup. She's beautiful like this—bare, vulnerable, trusting.

And that's what hurts the most.

How can she still look at me with anything other than abject hate after I used her the way I did?

After I proved that I'm no better than Pyotr?

I swore I would never become him. Yet here I am, having just fucked my wife mercilessly on cold marble while she screamed, and left bruises on her delicate skin.

No. I don't deserve love. I never have.

But Lacey... she deserves everything. She deserves gentle touches and soft kisses. She deserves someone who can cherish her properly, not a monster who puts blood on her hands and forces her to beg for pain.

For now though, I can give her this one thing she asks. I can make love to her the way she asks, even if I don't deserve the privilege.

Her fingers trace my jaw, drawing me back to the present. To her. To us.

"Please," she whispers against my lips.

Gently, I press her against the shower wall, letting the water cascade over both of us. She's so small against me, so delicate despite her earlier fire. My cock slides between her thighs, finding her still wet and ready.

I enter her slowly, savoring every inch. Her body welcomes me, soft and warm. She gasps against my neck as I fill her completely. This is different from before—no anger, no punishment. Just us.

Her legs wrap around my waist as I start moving inside her. Gentle thrusts that make her sigh with pleasure rather than pain. Her hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks. The tenderness in her touch nearly undoes me.

"Like this?" I whisper against her lips.

"Yes," she breathes. "Just like this."

The water beats down between us as I move inside her, each slow gentle thrust an apology for earlier. The pain in my hand throbs where she bit me—a reminder of the monster I became.

I ignore the pain in my hand.

I deserve a pain that's much worse than this.

She feels impossibly soft against me now, her body yielding and warm. So different from the angry desperation before. Her hands cup my face and draws me in for another kiss.

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