Page 72 of Captured Heart

Her lips part, but no words leave them. She’s drained, and the animosity she was clinging to is replaced by something else, something softer and more fragile. “Why?” she asks, the wordonly slightly audible. “You barely know me. Why would you do that for me?”

I close my eyes for a moment, swallowing hard. I don’t know what she wants from me. My actions have already proven it. I’ve basically told her, but it’s not enough for her. I’m not a guy who opens up easily. Expressing how I feel is something Idon’tdo, but it’s like she won’t stop until she hears me say it.

“Because...” My body stiffens. This is harder to admit than I thought. “Because....shit, because I care about you, Katie. More than I should. More than is safe. But I do.” I raise my hand and lightly trace the faded bruise near her eye. “And I wish I didn’t. I wish you were just a job to me. I wish it was just about the money. Fuck, how I wish itwasloneliness that led me to your bed last night. Because then I’d be able to walk away from all this shit and not look back.”

“But that’s what you should do. You shouldn’t stay here. You’re risking too much. If youcanleave...just leave.”

Disbelief is written all over her face, as if she can’t understand the choice I’ve made. But I’ve made it. Doubts and second thoughts have been plaguing me for days, but even that couldn’t convince me. I’m stuck, knee-deep in quicksand, and I can’t yank my feet out of the sludge to take one step if that means walking away from her.

“You don’t get it,” I say. “I’m calculated. I’ve measured all the risks, and I’m still here. There’s no talking me out of this. I’m not leaving you. Ican’tleave you. You mean too much to me.”

Her breath hitches, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. The wall between us crumbles, and I let go of her hands. My gaze drops to her lips, parted and quivering. Dipping my head, I catch it between my teeth to quell the tremor.

But it quells nothing. The moment our mouths meet, it’s like the floodgates burst.

Her kiss is ardent, so needy, fueled by fear and uncertainty. She’s seeking confirmation that I meant what I said, so I give it to her. My hands are everywhere—her face, her neck, her hips. Gripping. Pulling. Needing her closer. Her fingers rake over my head, nails scraping against my scalp, igniting something primal inside me. I unzip the hoodie, needing to feel her chest on mine.

I love the feel of her. The way her lips tremble against mine, the quiet gasp she lets out when I grip her waist. But it’s the softness that undoes me. Her femininity is entrancing. She’s all suppleness and warmth, and it makes me want to devour her. She’s innocent in ways I’ll never be, untainted by the darkness that’s consumed me, and that contrast pulls me under, drowning me.

I press her harder against the wall; the urgency consuming us both. Her teeth graze my lower lip, and the sting sends a jolt through me, pulling a low groan from my throat. Impatient hands undo the button and zipper on my jeans. I shove it down and allow it to collect around my ankles.

She tries to move back to the bed, back to some sort of comfort zone, and I’m having none of that. She’ll experience no comfort with me.

I grip her thighs, lifting them to wrap around my waist, my fingers digging into her skin as if I can anchor myself in this moment. She’s wet, so ready for me, offering no resistance when I jerk my hips forward and enter her.

The first solid thrust extracts a breathy sigh. The second makes her wince. By the third, her eyebrows pinch together as if she’s straining to absorb the full force of me. I have no intention of going easy on her.

“You can take it,” I whisper. “Takeallof me.”

And she does. Figuratively. Literally. I’m swallowed by an abyss. Her mouth claims me, pulling me into an inescapable black hole. Her arms wrap around me, a cage of fevor and need,trapping me there. And her wet heat sheaths me like a second skin, locking me in. She’s a prison. The only prison I never want to escape from.

Her smooth thighs rub against my sides as I ram into her. My hands grip tighter. My hips hit harder. That softness is driving me crazy. Those innocent pleas are pushing me to the brink of madness. I want to ravage her and leave nothing behind.

The thought is there, dark and unrelenting. Something inside me is hellbent on ruining her. When this is over, I want her to lie in the wreckage of who she used to be and know it was me who destroyed her so thoroughly. It’s not enough to touch her, to taste her. I want to leave a mark, something that lingers, something that reminds her she’ll never be the same.

She’s a contradiction. Fierce yet fragile. Strong yet breakable. And I want to break her, utterly devastate her, so that she’ll always remember that those broken, shattered pieces of herself belong to me.

Her breaths are ragged, feverish against my lips. Her hands clutch at my shoulders like I’m the only thing keeping her from falling apart. It’s an assault, a battle. Violent and raw, yet we can’t seem to get enough. She’s whimpering against my ear, rocking her hips to take me in deeper. She bursts, her orgasm rippling through her. And I feel it. The electric shockwave that throbs along the length of my dick as she clenches around me.

I don’t know what it is about that feeling that triggers me so fast, but I cum almost instantly. I slump against her, exhaling heavily as she milks every last drop from me. I’m drained and weak, and as I breathe in her sweet scent, something strikes me.

It’s an odd turn of events. I wanted to destroy her innocence, devastate her entirely. But she’s the one who ruined me.

She’s in my head now, under my skin. I want her out of my system, but she’s everywhere. Every touch, every sound, every soft gasp has etched itself into my soul like scars I’ll never healfrom. She’s stripped me bare, left me raw in a way no one ever has. It’s not just her body. It’s her fire, her vulnerability, the way she looks at me like she can see past the criminal I am to someone worth saving.

I thought I’d leave a mark on her, but instead, she’s the one who branded me. She’s my destruction and my salvation. I’ll never be the same again.

I SIT AT THE DOOR,leaning against it with my eyes fixed on Katelyn. Somewhere between her last orgasm and Bowman coming in to bring her lunch, she lost her fighting spirit.

She’s been lying on that bed for hours now, her gaze pinned to the ceiling, her lips moving just enough to let out soft, fragmented murmurs. She’s running through every possible scenario in her head, living out the worst-case endings before they even have a chance to happen.

It’s grief. I didn’t even know it could play out like this. I’ve seen plenty of trauma before. Fuck, I’ve lived it, but this is different. She’s bouncing between denial and anger, bargaining and depression, like she’s flipping through a manual on how to fall apart.

I saw denial and anger during our fight earlier. She lashed out, slamming me with every bit of her fury to push me away. I can still hear the sharp edge of her voice, see the betrayal in her eyes.

About an hour ago, she moved on to bargaining. She begged me to leave. She said she wasn’t worth my freedom. I told her again and again I wasn’t going to leave her. And the fact that I’ve stayed in place ever since seems to have only made it worse.

Now, she’s hollow. Wallowing in depression.

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