Page 27 of Ravaged and Ruined
Aero’s breath ghosts over my cheek as he slowly lifts his head. His hair is damp. His dark, stormy eyes look right through me and I swear I see something raw and real flash in them.
“You good?” he asks, his voice rough and ragged.
I nod, but I can’t quite meet his eyes. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t let me hide. One of his hands slides under my jaw, tilts my face back to him. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you go quiet and shut down. We just tore each other apart. Don’t tell me you’re fine.”
I could lie. I almost do.
But I’ve never been able to lie to him. Not really.
“I meant what I said,” he growls, staring down at me with those fire-lit eyes. “You’re mine. Don’t ever make me prove it again.”
His voice isn’t soft. It’s not coaxing. But something in me melts anyway. Because I’ve never seen this side of him. Not really. Not like this.
Still, I can’t keep the sharpness out of my voice. “And tomorrow? What then, Aero? Will I still be yours or will you leave me wondering if any of this meant shit, again?”
He flinches ever so slightly but instead of pulling away, he leans in until his mouth is against my ear. His breath is hot, his lips brushing my skin as he speaks. “You think I’d go to war with Ricci if I didn’t want you?”
I suck in a breath, my chest rising under his. Something inside me twists tight, painful, and stupidly hopeful. His words curling into the empty spaces I try to pretend don’t exist.
Still, it’s hard to trust that something this wild, this raw, this real won’t get ripped out from under me.
“I don’t need promises,” I whisper. “But I need you to stop breaking me.”
His hand cups my jaw, rough and warm. His thumb drags across my cheek.
“Tomorrow, I’m going to wake up with you next to me. And I’m not letting you go again.”
I want to believe him. God, I want to. But the wounds are still fresh, the edges jagged. I search his face, looking for the cracks. The weakness. The escape route he always leaves himself.
“I need this to be real,” I whisper.
“It is.” His voice dips low, reverent. “It always was, Bambola. Even when I didn’t know it.”
He dips his head, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that’s all heat. I arch under him, our bodies fitting together like a magnet. His weight presses me down, holds me steady while the world spins out. He breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth down my neck, biting when he hits the spot that makes my back arch off the mattress.
He rolls to his side, pulling me with him so I’m cradled against his chest, his arms tight around me. I close my eyes, letting myself fall into him. I feel his lips press into my hair, I feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing as he starts to relax.
This man is all danger. Violence. Chaos. But right now, in this bed, he’s also my warmth. My shelter. Something I’ve never had and might never deserve but still crave all the same.
All I know is the sound of his voice, the scratch of his stubble against my skin, and the ache that’s lived in my chest for far too long is easing, just a little.
Chapter Twelve
Aero
The morning’s too damn quiet to silence the war raging inside my head. Last night I claimed her in every way possible out of rage and jealousy and the part of me that feels like I have to prove myself to men like Garett Ricci, despite what I’ve made of myself in the last four years.
She is mine. Even when I push her away. Even when she hates me for it. But that word, mine, feels dangerous in my head now, not comforting. Because men like me don’t get to keep things like her. Not for long. And sure as hell not forever.
But I fucking claimed her.
Not with flowers and whispered words. I claimed her with teeth and bruises and sweat. With everything I know how to give. Pain and pleasure mixed in one brutal knot.
