Page 78 of Live for Me

“That bastard has a photo of you in the fucking shower, Abbie!”I roared, throwing my arm out. “Who’s to say this man isn’t someone you’ve slept with in the past? Have you even given that a thought, huh?”

She raised her chin, her fists bawling at her sides. “Stop this.”

“Stop what?” I shot back. “Your life is in danger! This man came into your home! He is familiar with it—”

“Stop slut shaming me.”

I blinked, my arms falling back to my sides slowly.

I wasn’t—that wasn’t what I was doing.Was it?

She folded her arms over her chest, tipping her chin back. “Let me clue you in on something: just because a woman wears men’s clothing doesn’t mean she slept with someone to obtain them. For your information, Beau, I like sleeping in big shirts.”

I said nothing, staring at her in a different light now. I knew that. I knew she liked to sleep in big shirts. She liked having her legs bare so she wouldn’t get tangled in the sheets and feel trapped at night.

Deep down, I knew I needed to listen to what she had to say. She was far from done. So, I waited, taking in this raw yet powerful side of her.

Something flickered in her eyes, the fear gone from them now. “Unfortunately, I left all your shirts in the bunkhouse when I left you. Frankly, I didn’t deserve to wear them ever again. When I got into the city, I tried wearing PJs and would end up donating them. Then, one day, I went thrifting with Dave. I bought seven big men’s t-shirts to sleep in, and I keep them in constant rotation,” she explained.

I silently cursed myself, shame coating me like a second skin, weighing me down.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured after a few minutes of silence. She kept quiet, unmoving, studying me. My throat bobbed and I ran my fingers through my hair before looking her in the eyes again. “I wasn’t thinking. I was running on my emotions, Abbie, and I let them get the best of me.” I paused for a moment, trying not to let my possessiveness over her control my tongue. “I can’t stand the thought of you in danger,” I murmured. “I can’t stand knowing that someone invaded your private life and took something precious from you.”

Her brows came together. “Something precious?” she parroted softly.

“Your intimacy,” I clarified.

Understanding dawned, and her arms slowly fell to her sides. She took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling through her nose as she looked away from me. “And to answer your question, no.”

I bit down, waiting for her to say more.

As the truth spilled from her lips like an overflowing river, she kept her gaze locked on the living room. “There hasn’t—” She cleared her throat. “There hasn’t been anyone since you.”

My shoulders sagged, my eyes widening as my jaw loosened. I needed to say something—anything—but my brain shut down, my body humming with desire.

She’s yours, Beau. Always has been.

My cock twitched in my jeans as she moved away from the fridge, wrapping her arms around herself. She put some distance between us as the air in the cabin became thicker—warmer. My eyes dropped to her lips, knowing I was the only one on this planet to ever taste them, to know their sweetness, to hear her little sounds she made when my tongue stroked hers. I flexed my fingers at my sides, remembering how soft her flesh was, knowing all the right places to squeeze. My mouth salivated then, my cock growing rock hard.

When she looked back at me, ready to say something, most likely ready to brush it off, she stopped short. She wasn’t a fool, but I sure as fuck was. One sentence, and my body felt alive again, every cell inside me pulsing with need.

But fuck, I needed her.

I needed her more than anything else in this world. I needed her in my arms. I needed her soul linked with mine. I needed our bodies connected every damn night. I needed her heart.

It was the only way I would be able to survive.

“Abbie,” I pushed out when her eyes dropped to the front of my jeans.

Her lips parted, sucking in a sharp breath that had goosebumps spreading across my skin. It felt like fire.

I was on fire, and she hadn’t even touched me.

“Beau,” she whispered, her brown eyes flicking back up to meet mine.

My feet remained planted as my chest heaved. If I moved now, there would be no stopping me. She was mine; she’d always been mine, and even though I wasn’t good enough for her, I wouldalways be hers. She lifted her foot, ready to take a step closer to me, but I shook my head.

“You come any closer, mistakes will be made, Wildflower.”

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