Page 78 of Sinful Justice

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There’s a war in my veins, a battle in my mind, and a fight within my hands as I study Minka’s languid body laid out on her bed.

I want to touch. To claim. To hold on and never let her go.

But the bruising on her thighs still brings me pain.

Even knowing she’s strong, even knowing she demands the real, rough me, I still struggle to move past the fact that those marks line up exactly and match the size and shape of my palm.

My father would hit women. He would hurt and control, and when he felt slighted, even if that was onlyhisreality and no one else’s, he would punish.

Behaviors I swore I would never repeat.

And now here I am anyway, marking thiswoman.Thisbody.

“Give me ten more minutes, and then we can get up and argue some more.” Minka lies on her stomach in the middle of the bed, her hand by her face, her lips swollen and red from my harsh treatment. “I’ve slept, we’ve had sex. Now I wanna fight with you so I can be sure everything is back to normal.”

Snorting, I lean over and press my lips to the valley of her spine. “I choose not to be triggered by you.” I slide my tongue along her flesh and grin when she breaks out in goosebumps. “If you want me to be a part of these arguments, that means you need me to be an equal contributor. If I never argue back, then you don’t get the fights you want so bad.”

The bed shakes as she laughs under her breath. “Wanna bet?”

“Crazy.” I drag my tongue up to her neck. “How do you feel?”

“Like I don’t want to be asked how I feel every ten minutes for the rest of my life.” Pushing the hair from her eyes, she peers up at me from the corner. “Babying me is the one sure way to start a fight.”

“Okay, well…” Taking note, I thread my fingers in her hair and tug back until she turns and exposes her bare breasts to me. Her trim waist and flared hips. “How’s things?”

She chokes on a laugh and twists her face to press a kiss to my wrist. “Why’d you stay last night?”

“Because I care. Do you have all this under control?”

I don’t have to say whatthisis. I don’t have to say a single thing more for her to understand.

She nods. “I’ve had it under control my entire life. I have a routine, I stick to it, everything is fine. Moving cities and jobs and picking up a new best friend and a guy who annoys me, and a little girl who was brutalized as my first case…” she shrugs. “I got distracted. But it’s under control now.”

“On a scale of none to put you in my pocket and never let you out again, how much do I need to worry?”

“About me?” Her eyes flicker between mine. “About today?”

I shake my head and hate how, in this moment, I have to show my vulnerabilities.

Like Minka, it’s not something I’m accustomed to baring. Like Minka, the very thought enrages me.

“Going into the future,” I admit. “Say I wanted to make this something we come back to for a while; how much do I have to worry about you?”

She swallows, but it doesn’t stop the warmth seeping into her cheeks. “You don’t. I have it under control.”

“If you trip on the curb and break an arm?”

“Straight to the ER,” she whispers with a smile. “We let them know what’s up, and they adapt their treatment accordingly.”

“If you trip on the curb and smack your head?”

At that, she pauses. And it’s her silence that tells me the truth. “How about we just don’t trip on the curb at all?” she counters. “I’d rather not break anything.”

“Can you have children someday?”

“Why?” she snaps. “Are you looking to impregnate someone? Jesus, Archer!”

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