Page 82 of Give Me Perfect Love

Claire, my sweet friend.

God, sadly I can imagine what she’s going through right now. Having someone take from you what you’re not offering up is the most horrific thing to experience. It belittles you and makes something that should be priceless no longer worth anything.

I rinse off and grab the towel from the rack, drying my hair and wrapping it up before drying my body and stepping out.

I walk over to the mirror and gasp in shock. My face is reddish pink, crimson mixed with a light purple. The skin around my eye is red-veined as blood sits on the surface from where his fist connected. I swallow, trailing my finger down the side of my sore cheek where he slapped me. My chin aches when I lightly put pressure on it, and the sight of purple appearing along my jawline isn’t surprising. My hands start to shake at the thought of his wrapped around my throat squeezing tightly.

A tear trickles down my cheek and fear replaces concern.

“You ain’t leaving here alive.”

My battered heart hammers and my knees give out, causing me to fall to the floor.

He was going to kill us.

We were going to die.

I shake uncontrollably, a puddled mess on the tile.

A sob releases from my chest and tears flow down in thick rivers.

“Oh God,” I weep, holding my face in my hands, feeling the stretch in my cut wrists. My shins chill from the cold floor and I try to take deep breaths, but I keep feeling his hands around my throat, squeezing, cutting off my air supply.

“No, no, no,” I cry more, scratching at my throat, gasping hysterically.

I jump when hands touch me and cower away with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“K, it’s just me.” Bryce holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

His expression kills. Soft and understanding, worried and angry. Hurt that I’d pull away from his loving touch.

“You’re safe,” he says, and with those two words, I crawl to him. Naked, a battered, bruised mess, and full of everlasting gratitude. I could bow at his feet.

“He saved us,”my heart says.

He saved me in every way a person like me needs to be saved. My heart has been trapped in a prison cell for so long, it doesn’t even breathe the wordfreedom. My mind has been trained to shut off emotion and never let my guard down.

But Bryce has opened all doors and demolished all walls.

“Let me have it,” he says, holding me tight. “Give me love, baby.”

Those words filter through to a place deep inside, because he’s not talking to me, he’s talking toit. He wants everything I have to give. My love, my complete heart.

My soul.

And I know this, because I know him.

I wrap my arms around his neck, and he lifts us from the floor. He kisses my forehead as I link my ankles around his back. The towel in my hair falls, leaving strands of wet hair free to air dry.

I move my head back as he carries me to the bedroom. I look over his strong jawline, the deep wrinkle between his brow, and his pouty lips.

My hands move on their own, running over the birthmark on his neck. It pulses evenly, proving to me that this isn’t a dream.

That he’s real.

What we have is almost tangible, so alive and full of raw energy you could reach out and touch it.

Without pause, I bring my lips to his, kissing him with so much passion, it drips like melted honey.

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