Page 225 of Sinful Desires
Fuck.
I swore I could die inside her.
But she wasn’t done with me yet.
When the high shattered, she pulled me into the water, whispering my name as she wrapped her legs around my waist and held on like she’d never let go.
My hands shook, but she steadied me.
Her mouth pressed to mine, her body soft and soaked, her voice a secret against my ear, whisperingI love youover and over.
And I realized it wasn’t the sea making my chest burn.
It was her.
It had always been her.
As the days passed, the summer breeze on our faces, we settled into a routine. We’d wake up late, try to cook together but fail miserably, and would end up ordering way too much takeout.
She spent her afternoons painting, writing, and singing whatever poured out of that beautiful, chaotic mind. I trained, and handled the idiots now working under my name at Sawyer Security.
Every couple of days, my mother would drop by for lunch or dinner, armed with stories from my childhood that should’ve stayed buried. She even took Scarlett to the farmer’s market once, calling it a “girls’ day.”
They were gone for hours. I had missed her all fucking day and got so irritable I’d nearly snapped at the delivery guy for forgetting extra napkins.
Evenings slowed everything down. Bonfires. Takeout. Dinner under the stars. The kind of life I used to think would rot me from the inside.
Somehow, I didn’t rot. Somehow, she made it feel like heaven.
One night, we saw a shooting star. My arms were around her, her back resting against my chest, nestled between my legs.
She pointed up, eyes lit with wonder. “Quick, make a wish!”
I kissed her neck, my teeth grazing soft skin. “I’ve already got everything I want. And more than I fucking deserve.”
She kissed me without a word.
But the next morning, she looked me in the eyes and said she’d wished I’d see my dad.
That I should stay with him for a bit. That I needed closure too.
And I did it.
I did it because she’d asked. Because she had that kind of power over me. Because making her happy was the only thing that had ever made me feel sane.
That’s how I’d ended up here.
Sitting in a hospital room, watching the only man I’ve ever looked up to slip further away from us.
Beep.Beep.Beep.
“Salut, Papa.”
I sat beside him. The chair groaned like it knew I didn’t belong here.
His beard was trimmed, nails clipped, skin too still in the hush of lamplight.
My mom kept him clean, still taking care of him after fourteen years. Because he was the love of her life.
