Page 160 of Endgame
After he’s done, his body stills. He cups my bruised cheek, holding me in place as his eyes search mine. Torment flickers there, the guilt that’s clawing at him.
Slowly, he starts to close off. Retreating into himself. I can feel him slipping into the dark place where he punishes himself.
I can’t let him. I need him here, with me. The way he needs me to anchor him. To remind him what matters.
“Please,” I whisper, leaning harder into his palm. “Stay with me. Please.”
“Aurora, how…” He shakes his head. “You see me.” The hollowness in my chest dissolves at the praise. His eyes slowly clear, and my heart races toward him. He rocks his hips into me, pushing his seed deeper into me. “You’re such a good girl.”
I’m melting. Right into the bed.
We have a lot to discuss. So many things to talk about. Only when both of us have settled.
There’s love in him, and I’m reveling in it.
For now, I rest in his arms. I let him carry me to the shower and lather soap over my body. Shampoo on my hair.
There are promises in his gaze. In his voice. His touch.
For once in my miserable life, I’m not locked up in a room. A basement. Left stranded on a wealthy couple’s doorstep.
For once, someone wants to be with me.
For once, someone stays.
28
EVERETT
The shape of Aurora’s body beneath the covers is captivating.
She’s lying on her side, facing me, completely vulnerable. Eternally mine.
I can’t look away. The rise of those luscious hips follows the dip of her waist.
The way the blanket rests on her ass, her legs, her calves.
Every inch of her skin pulls me deeper.
Pink nipples peek out from under the covers, begging to be bitten.
That untouched curve of her breasts, I have to taste them. Mark them.
Claim them.
She’s gorgeous, from the inside out.
And…I’m infuriated. Not by her. Jealousy scalds my chest. How dare these covers touch what’s mine.
Aurora silences the guilt, the hate, the rage…and fans the fire in everything else.
I’m hard. Frustrated. Hungry.
It feels wrong to crave anything but vengeance for my family.
But here I am. My priorities have shifted, the cadence of my rotten heart twisting with hers.
Killing Winston isn’t about my parents or my sister anymore. It’s about the bruise marring Aurora’s cheek.
