Page 67 of Freckles

Her head tilts back and I twist until we can look each other in the eye because she has to understand, and the words are too easy on their own. “I will never harm you, Freckles. I may make spank you until your arse is on fire, and you beg me to stop, but never any lasting damage. Fear the rest of the world as much as you want. You’ll never have to fear me.”

Relief and reluctance mix in her expression, but that’s okay. She doesn’t need to believe me today; I will prove myself to her.

“From now on, promise you’ll only stab me for fun.”

She convulses with laughter, covering her eyes with her hand, the vibrations sinking into my body until I’m laughing along with her, hugging her more closely as the water cools.

As she settles, Francesca shifts in my embrace, squirming to get comfy.

“I shouldn’t want you,” she mutters, softly pouting. “I shouldn’t want you at all.”

My throat aches with the sweetest pain as I hug her close to me, pressing soft kisses to the top of her head.

Ishouldn’twant you.

It’s not a love sonnet gushing with flowery language but it’s real and it’s spontaneous.

It will do.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

FRANCESCA

Kincaid greetsme at the carpark the next morning and holds my hand as he walks me to my locker. Between the envious stares and covetous glances, I’ve never felt more exposed and want to tug my hand free, head down, crossing my arms and hunching my shoulders.

But I did stab the guy last night. I figure he’s earned the right to flaunt our relationship in public.

It’s a relationship now, is it?

Last night, falling asleep in Kincaid’s arms, it felt that way. Then I woke to an empty bed and a mind blossoming with new doubt. He seemed easy to trust when he confided in me, becoming vulnerable enough to share his childhood trauma.

Perhaps if I’d done the same, the closeness would have lingered.

I saw the openings. The chance to share my own internal scars, to bond over our shared circumstances, the similarities that forged our broken psyches. I saw them and my mouth stayed shut.

As it should. One sob story doesn’t undo his damage.

While my internal voice applauds me keeping quiet, I recognise the missed opportunity. Kincaid isn’t going anywhere and the longer I spent in his company, the more I admit our connection goes both ways. Much as I rail against the blatant manipulation and control he employs, his presence eases my worries.

His deranged brand of calm is the only thing that lets me sleep. A monster in my bed the only cure to subdue the one stalking my memories. And he gave me a free pass when I tried to kill him. It’s like we’re the same kind of sick.

He pushes his bag into the locker and winces.

“How’s your arm?” I ask, nervous to remind him. He flexes his biceps, pushing my fingers against the taut muscle, and a curl of desire winds through my core.

“It’s terrible,” he scoffs. “Ow. The pain.” The wide grin belies his words, and he bends closer, lips twitching with mischief. “You’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“Mm-hm. And how am I going to do that?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll give it some deep thought over the next few periods.”

“Are they study periods?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re completely derailing my education, and when I fail half my subjects, you’ll have to make that up to me as well. It’s a vicious cycle.”

I wrinkle my nose, his playfulness infectious.

When I reach my locker, I glimpse Aidan farther along the corridor and wave. His gaze snaps away the moment he sees me looking, and my heart drops.

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