Page 14 of Blackout-

Another lie.

“Go back to sleep,” I add as my hand travels up the hem of her t-shirt.

“Mmm,” she moans. Her hand moves from my thigh and quickly finds mine, guiding it up her body to cover one of her breasts. Taking it in my hand, I give it a squeeze. Her perfectly pert nipple hardens against my palm and all the blood rushes to my dick.

“I waited all night for you,” she whispers. “To feel your hands on me.”

I swallow, pushing down the lump in my throat.

Don’t take.

You don’t deserve what she’s offering.

Give.

Just fucking give.

“I needed you, Blackie,” she continues. “I needed you to make it go away.”

Those words resonate with me. They take me back to the beginning, to when she wasn’t mine. A time when she needed me to help her break away from the madness. Every part of my body goes still as she turns to face me. The second her eyes connect with mine, I see it. I see the pain and it fucking guts me.

“What happened?”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she winds her arms around my neck and just stares at me. For a second, I remain powerless to the fear and I hold my breath, waiting for her to call me out on my wicked ways.

“Tell me you love me,” she pleads.

“I love you, baby,” I rasp, moving my hands to her hips. My fingers dig into her flesh as I bend my head and touch my forehead to hers. “I love you so fucking much.”

A small smile plays on her lips as she closes her eyes.

“Tell me again.”

“I love you, Lacey.”

“Tell me you don’t regret marrying me.”

“Never.”

“Tell me, Blackie,” she whispers, opening her eyes. “Tell me we’re not making a mistake, that we deserve to be happy.”

“You deserve to be happy,” I say. Even if I don’t, she does. She deserves everything good in life. All the fucking beautiful this wicked world has to offer.

“My dad was a good father,” she continues, pausing for a beat. “Heisa good father,” she corrects, cocking her head to the side. “His lifestyle wasn’t perfect, far from it, but he tried. He did the best he could, and I always felt his love.”

Not sure where any of this is coming from, I lean back and unravel her arms from my neck. Sitting up, I take her hands and pull her into my lap, giving her my full attention. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and search her eyes.

“Talk to me, Lace,” I murmur softly. “What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?”

I watch as she draws her lip between her teeth and diverts her gaze away from me.

“Did I ever tell you about our dates?” Staring off into space, she smiles. “When my parents got divorced, my father would pick me up every Tuesday and take me to dinner. We didn’t go anywhere fancy, just the Vegas diner, but one time, he picked me up and we skipped dinner altogether. He drove all the way to Hershey, Pennsylvania because he wanted a chocolate bar. It was completely crazy and one of my best memories.”

“Sounds like something Jack would do,” I say, taking her hand and lacing our fingers together. Back in the day, he hijacked an ice cream truck for the kids when they came around the clubhouse. Taking a ride to Hershey for a Kit Kat doesn’t surprise me.

“He always did things over the top. Christmas especially,” she continues, diverting her eyes back to mine. “He would dress up every year and whether my parents were together or not, he was there every Christmas, sneaking out the door in that ridiculous costume after having dropped the presents under the tree. I think I was thirteen when he finally came clean.”

“You got a lot of good memories, baby,” I tell her.

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