Page 77 of Betrayed
He breathes against my mouth. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”
He’s made vows to the Bachmans, ones he will never break. And I would never ask him to. And those vows only include protecting people who have the last name Bachman.
My voice cracks. “I can’t leave them. I have to stay with Cass and Ryan. They need me.”
“I hated what you said in your note,” he says.
With him on me, making me feel alive, I can barely remember writing it. “Which part?”
“The part where you say you’ve given me nothing,” he growls, lips grazing my throat. “You’ve given me my life back.”
I let out a shuddering breath. “How?”
He breaks our heat to hold my face, staring into my eyes. “I never thought I could love again. I felt that part of me died. I thought I would always be alone.”
I can feel the hard line of him, thick and straining behind his zipper.
He’s barely holding it together.
I feel it in every word, every ragged breath.
“I love you, Erin. And I need you. Like air.”
“I need you too. So badly.”
His teeth scrape the edge of my neck. “Say it again.”
“I need you.”
His fingers dig into my hips. “Louder.”
“I need you, Lucian. I’ve always needed you.”
“I want to be inside you so bad, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Since when has pain during sex ever been an issue for you?” I lock eyes with him in a challenge.
And before I know it, all of our clothes from the waist down have been stripped off by him. And my bare legs are around his naked waist.
The next moment is savage.
He thrusts inside me in one powerful motion, stretching me wide, forcing a cry from my throat that I try to silence. I clutch his shoulders, nails digging in. The sting, the pressure, the sudden fullness—everything collides into a wave of helpless pleasure.
“You have to make a choice,” he grits out.
I’ve made my choice. I can’t live without him.
But how does my family fit in?
Moving Ryan a second time, when he’s so in love with his school? Having Cass get used to a new place when she’s still making new friends and finally feels safe?
And the new, burning worry that’s been planted like a seed, burrowing deep inside me. One I’m too embarrassed to share with him.
I know I have to marry him to become a Bachman, to live with him and have a future. He may accept me, but will they?
Instead, I say, “It’s not that simple.”
“When has anything been simple between us?” He moans low and drives into me harder.
