Page 81 of Embrace Me Forever

“Yeah. But why do I still feel like shit?” The question escapes me, a raw and aching whisper. “Like I’m the worst person in the world?”

“You’re not a bad person. Coco loves you. You gave her everything. She’s his legacy, is she not?” he says, his words imbued with a comforting certainty.

Touched by his words, I feel a flicker of warmth in the coldness of my grief.

Then he says, “Look, it was wrong for me to dismiss you saying sorry to me when I told you about Flo. I genuinely couldn’t take any more apologies from anyone. But I was a jerk. You meant well.”

“I think you just wanted to hide,” I respond, still grappling with the tangled emotions and uncertain of what we can salvage.

“You might be right. But here I am now,” he admits.

“Sebastian means a lot to me, but you, Blake, you’re my world!” I confess. While making up is one thing, building a solid relationship is another—something that may be forever out of reach if he can’t accept the truth. I continue firmly, “If we’re just going to keep hurting each other, then it might be best for you to walk away.”

“No. Never.” Blake’s response is immediate and fierce.

“I’m still in pain now, Blake,” I confess.

“I can never fill Sebastian’s shoes,” he admits. “But I know exactly how he felt when he knew those men were coming for you. I know exactly what went through his mind when he protected you. I feel it here, Georgia-May.”

He places a hand over his chest. I slip my hand under his, pressing against his pec so I can feel the strong beat beneath.

He continues, “The fear of losing you, I live it, I breathe it every second! And I never want you to hurt. Don’t let pain define us. I’ve been there, and it’s a terrible place.”

His fervent, sincere words cast a spell of hope and determination, urging us to rise above the pain and to embrace the possibility of a future forged together, not apart. He pulls me close as he nuzzles his nose through my hair. He then lowers himself, eye to eye with me.

“How do we move on, Blake?”

“First, let me soothe your pain,” he rasps, and the sight of him simply melts me. I’m powerless to resist anything he does. Including his kiss, even as I’m still coming down from the peak of my anger.

“It’s a good start.” I huff, then latch onto him again.

I’ve experienced his kisses many times and am well-versed in his skill, but this kiss is different. It strikes directly at the heart and lingers there. It transcends mere romance and doesn’t seek to ignite further physical intimacy. Instead, it dismantles the barriers I erected to shut him out after he left me in thatIT room at Hartley Marine. It feels like he’s recalibrating my bloodstream, syncing it with his own rhythm.

He murmurs, his lips grazing mine in a tantalizing hover, “You’re not just a code queen. You’re the queen of my heart. You have no idea how much I love you.”

What was I thinking? Believing that I could move on without him?

“I love you, too,” I whisper, and he immediately reclaims my mouth with his. This kiss, which I thought wouldn’t lead to anything but reconciliation, proves I’m too weak to resist him. Though I’m eager to see Coco, knowing she’s safe, the chance to be alone with him outweighs everything else.

I lean my crotch against his, and he takes the cue and pushes me backward, his lips still locked with mine. I stumble along with him, feeling the tailgate beneath my fingertips as his hands fumble to open it. With a swift motion, he lifts me so I sprawl on the cargo space floor. My legs dangle over the edge, brushing against the cool night air.

With impatience, he removes my jeans. He then stretches my panties, possibly even tearing them, as he hastens to gain access to me. He extends my arms above my head, keeping them in place as his upper body looms over me.

“No feathers?” I tease.

“Trust me, my abilities go beyond exploiting your ticklish soul.”

I’m completely under his control as a kiss lands on my lips. God, reconciling has never felt this good.

29

BLAKE

As our plans against Bertram slowly unfold into reality, we strive to preserve a semblance of normalcy. Despite the silence from their end, lacking both digital backlash and tangible movements to monitor, we remain wary, certain they will act sooner rather than later. We continue our vigilant support for Coco as she perseveres through her therapy sessions.

Rob has beefed up our security measures by bringing in additional muscle—a bodyguard known only by the name of Lowe. His reputation precedes him, a silent sentinel whose presence alone commands respect.

Today, as we enter the therapy room within the UCLA Children’s Hospital, I signal Lowe to take up his position by the door. With a quiet authority, he takes his stand.

---