Page 82 of Savage Revenge

He stares down at me, but the room is too dark for me to be able to read him. “Just need to go use the bathroom.” Then he leans down and kisses my forehead, sending a flutter of arousal straight to my core.

By the time he returns, I’m barely aware of him climbing in beside me. But when he slides his hand around my waist and pulls me into his chest, my heart beats harder, and every part of me responds in some kind of gravitating way. It feels good.

But most of all, it feels like I’ve finally found my home.

And his name is Cash Savage.

CHAPTER 25

Cash

FAMILY BONDING

I thoughtI knew what heartbreak was. I thought it was losing my mom and then my dad. But those are nothing like knowing I’m going to let Jordyn go when she wakes up in a few hours.

Here she is, in my arms, breathing softly while her perfectly shaped eyebrows twitch as if she’s having a dream. My heart is breaking right down the center in slow, excruciating cracks that will eventually sever it completely. The thing about cracks is you can fill those in, but once it’s in two, it can never be whole again. And once I let Jordyn walk out of my life, I’m going to know what that feels like.

The delicate morning light gives me just enough to study her closely and memorize every freckle, every gentle slope, everything.

Even if Thomas Kingston killed my father, Jordyn doesn’t deserve to pay for his sins. And neither does Jacob. The only responsible party is the person who did it.

I’ve continued holding Jordyn because of my own possessiveness and selfishness. I knew the first time she spoke that she knew nothing. She truly has no idea whether it was her father or not. I could have let her go then. Ishouldhave. But she was too much of everything. Too beautiful. Too smart-mouthed.Too strong. Too smart. And Jesus, she makes me feel alive. All while I’ve been holding her back. Keeping her locked up when she has dreams and aspirations that she deserves to fulfill.

If it were as simple as her wanting to run some casinos, I’d give her a handful of mine. It’s more than that for her, though. It’s her family. Her name. Just because Thomas Kingston is a bastard, doesn’t mean the entire Kingston empire is dirty. Hell, I’d love to compete with a CEO like Jordyn. She’d make me a better businessman.

She already makes me a bettereverything. Makes me want to be good. For her, though. Only her.

A tiny hum escapes her, and she rolls over onto her side, resting her left hand on my chest and tucking the other one under her. Long, brown, silky hair splays around her face, covering a little too much for my liking. I reach down and gently brush it away, my calloused fingers looking rough against her soft, creamy cheek.

My gaze flicks to her hand resting over my heart, her clean, untattooed skin a contrast against my inked, scarred body. She’s an angel and I’m a monster, but when we’re together, none of that matters. She looks at me like she trusts me. Like she wants me. Like she cares about me.

I’ve never had that from a woman before. Then again, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before. She’s become my oxygen. My nicotine. My hit of something so addicting that I’ll never be the same again. She’ll move on with her life, and maybe one day she’ll forgive me. Maybe one day she’ll look back at her time with me, and maybe she’ll smile when she remembers it.

Hours pass, she doesn’t move, and neither do I. My time is running out with her, and suddenly a heavy weight presses on my chest. I let out a silent curse as my phone vibrates with a message.

Beckett: We found a suspicious transfer from a year ago in his records. It went to an account in the Cayman Islands that is registered under CK Gaming. Shall we go question the motherfucker?

A lump forms in my throat as I slowly type a response one-handed.

Cash: I’m coming. I’ll meet you there.. Tell Cassian to cut Jacob loose with the threat of his life if he so much as thinks of going to the police.

I close my eyes for a second before taking one more look at Jordyn before I gently pull myself free. She sleeps right through it, only letting out a little whimper of protest when our bodies stop touching.

Before I walk into the bathroom, I take one more long look at her, my throat tightening as I do.

Forty minutes later, I stand fully showered and dressed at the closed bathroom door for a good fifteen seconds before I open it. She’s still asleep, and I hate to wake her, but I’m not going to be a coward and not say goodbye.

My steps are quiet as I cross the carpeted floor. And when I stand beside the bed, staring down at her, I question if I’m making the right choice.

She belongs here.

In my home.

Under my care.

In my heart.

But she doesn’t want this. She wants to be free. She said it herself.

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