Page 111 of Point of No Return

“I want you to come with me, baby. Can you do that?” he growls, his words only making the fire burn hotter.

“Yes,” I gasp. “God, yes.”

His voice is a sweet caress. “Good girl.”

I’m gone- my senses blazing, riding out a high I want to chase forever.

“Fucking hell,” he groans against my ear, his body going lax as he cums inside me. When I’ve finally come down enough to open my eyes, seeing him look down at me with that heated look is enough to make me want to climb him and do it all over again. .

He pulls out of me, his cum already dripping down my thighs as I sit up and let my gaze fall back to his ribs. His chest rises and falls steadily as I trace over the words:I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.

He leans forward again, one arm on either side, caging me in. “What are you thinking?”

My chest clenches at the question, at the genuine curiosity written all over his face.

This… Him…

I glance down at the ring on his finger, at the matching one on mine, at the scars on either of our palms. Something deep-rooted and painful takes hold of me, but I refuse to let it take this moment away from me.

So I smile and let my hands wander up over his neck, tangling in the hair at his nape.

“I’m thinking I want to shower with you again. And we can pretend like we’re not just going to do this all over again when we get out.”

Skar lets out a laugh, hearty and loud and so happy that I wonder what the hell has happened to the man I married. He kisses me gently and then takes my hand and tugs me off the bed.

“Bathroom. Shower. Then maybe I’ll fuck you again.”

“Maybe?” I gape at him, but I can’t help but smile. He slaps my ass in answer, but I note the sly smirk on his face too, and I listen anyway.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Skar

When I was younger, doubt and I were good friends. I often doubted whether I could make it in the world I’d been born into. But it wasn’t a matter of choice. You survive in this world- or you get swept under its waves. The only choice is whether to fight the path that was paved for you. Or accept it.

My marriage had not been my choice. At first, marrying this woman seemed like my father’s way of punishing me for every fight I’d picked with him. I hadn’t doubted that. I doubted whether or not marrying her would be my damnation, the beginning of a slow and painful end.

Now, I’m sure of it. Charlotte is my damnation, my corruption, my salvation, my very will and reason. I only doubt that she feels the same.

I was sure when she saw the tattoo, she’d run. I’d seen the thought cross her mind when her green eyes landed on it- along with a wave of emotion I don’t think I can ever decipher on my own.

The thought terrifies me: Losing her, never fully having her. She owns every goddamn, jagged piece of me. Yet she has no fucking idea.

It’s still dark out, but she’s finally sleeping as I look over at her. I prop my head on my arm and let my fingers tangle in the dark tresses of her hair. Only the sheets cover her now, her silhouette clearly visible through the thin material.

I desperately want to reach out and touch her again, to wake her with my head between her legs, but I fucked her four times last night alone. Seeing her sleep is rare enough as it is. So, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest in the light of the bedside lamp is enough.

I lean forward and brush another tender kiss over her forehead before I reach over to flip the lamp switch off. Only her eyes gently flutter open, and she sleepily blinks at me. A small smile forms on her lips, and she closes her eyes again as I prop myself up against the headboard.

“Has anyone ever told you that staring is rude?”

I crack a smile. “I don’t think staring is the right word for the way I look at you.”

“Fine.” She nuzzles her head into her pillow with a sleepy smile. “Leering then.”

“Mmm.” I shake my head. “The sentiment’s still not right.”

“Watching.”

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