Page 45 of Jagged Line Paradise

But I don’t want to.

“The last sunset I sat and watched was with you.”

I’m quiet and still in his arms, waiting for some instinct, some feeling to tell me what’s happening here and what I should do. But there’s nothing. Nothing but the need to wait here, firmly in his hold.

“Say something,” he whispers just beside my ear and I feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek.

I sigh, sinking into his embrace. “What am I supposed to say to you?”

“Tell me you don’t hate me.”

“Hate you? I never said I hated you.” But I did hate him. I hated him for a long time.

“It’s so fucking clear that you do.”

“You left me, Andrés.”

“I didn’t want to leave you behind. I wanted you to come with me.” He grabs my hair dangling in front of me and pulls it back over my shoulder.

I shudder. “I wasn’t ready to leave.”

“I was.” His nose brushes over the shell of my ear and the pleasure of it sinks to my belly.

The good feeling is quickly replaced by nausea because all the bad comes with all the good. The reminder of how much we wanted each other aches deep in my soul as he reminds me that he left—he could’ve had me and he left.

We can’t go back in time. He abandoned me and it hurt me more, impacted me deeper, than being kidnapped, raped, and tortured by his father ever did. At least that had some finality to it—a conclusion.

The suffering Andrés caused me is never-ending.

Whatever spell he’s trying to put on me weakens and frustration hits me. I spin in his hold and his arms fall away. I take a step backward, but my butt hits the edge of the sink, stopping me only inches away from him. “You left me. You left me all alone to pick up the pieces and try to live after the most horrific moments of my life. I can’t…”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t get over that. I can’t forgive you for that.”

“That’s not fair.”

There’s the rage, hitting me square in the chest like a lightning bolt, hot and fast. Only he could make me feel so much so intensely. “It wasn’t fair when youleft! Did you not comprehend what had happened to me? What I’d been through? What your father did to me? You were there in the hospital. You saw me at my damn worst. You knew the pain I went through when he had me in that death box, and you saw the recovery. You were there when I was healing from the skin grafts on my thighs. And it was just too much for you. You couldn’t handle it. You couldn’t handle my pain. You were weak, and you left me to struggle on my own.” Tears prick behind my eyes as a fury takes hold of me, as I spew a decade’s worth of pent-up heartache. “I struggled, Andrés. I struggled and the pain of it nearly killed me. I can’t tell you how lonely I was, how many times I cried myself to sleep, how many times I wanted to end it all. Did you know that? Did you know how bad it was for me? How alone I was? How much I wanted to die?”

His brow creases, a look of concern and a hint of guilt in his expression. I don’t care if he feels guilt now. It’s worth nothing to me—too little, too late. The damage is done and it’s damage that can’t be repaired.

“I’m sorry—”

“Screw you.” I put my hand on his chest to push him back, ready to get the hell out of here before I start bawling and embarrass myself.

He grabs my wrist, trapping it against his strong chest and my fury is met with his. “Don’t walk away from me, Avalon.”

I laugh and it forces tears to drip down my cheeks. “Are you kidding me? Don’t walkaway?You’re one to talk about walking away. Just leave me alone.” I put my other hand on his chest and shove, but he grabs that wrist, too.

I look up at his face and see his barely controlled rage. His chest heaves as his anger builds, his jaw set tight and his expression hard. His brown eyes fade to black and it freezes me.

We stare and breathe, both of us unable to move. That’s what anger does—it halts you, stutters your life, freezes you in time, and keeps you from moving forward. But when he finally moves forward, stepping toward me, it forces me backward, harder against the counter. He moves forward and it takes me backward in time—it takes us both back in time.

His body crowds me against the edge of the counter, leaving me no room for escape, and the moment he realizes that he has me trapped there, his lips descend and bruise mine with an aching kiss.

My logical mind tells me to turn my head, to slap him, to shove him, to get away from him any way I can. But my heart, my body, my soul aches for this kiss—they ache for a kiss I never knew I wanted.

Holywow.

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