Page 87 of Entangled

I allow him a moment before my curiosity wins out. “What kind of secrets?”

He sighs, darting his eyes away from mine. “He had an affair.” The words are quiet, laced with anger and shame.

“And you knew?”

“Found out right before he died.”

I reach my other hand up, running my fingers through his hair soothingly and hitch my leg over his hip. Bringing us close and offering what comfort I can.

He looks down and a deep kind of pain radiates from his night-forest eyes when they land on me, his expression crumbling. “He destroyed a lot of lives.” The whispered words are filled with torment.

I lay my head down against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat thundering under my ear as I breathe in his sandalwood scent. “Parents…” I start after a moment, “have the unique gift of having the greatest influence and impact on our life for a long time. It’s biological, innate. They are the first people to hold us, to hopefully love us, to shape those first moments of our lives. But I’ve realized something pretty recently.” My lips pull up against his skin. “We don’t have to accept what they create. We don’t have to be the sum of their mistakes. We can choose what to keep, what to learn from, and what pain to discard for something greater.” I tilt my head back, looking into his eyes. “For someone greater.”

He lifts the hand on my stomach, threading it through the back of my hair and his lips twitch. “Look at you, being all wise and philosophical.”

“It’s all these damn books you surround me with. Something was bound to sink in.”

“Have to do something to counteract the trash TV.”

I laugh openly, burying my head in his chest and feeling it rumble as his own deep laughter fills my ears. When the laughter subsides, I peek up at him to find shadows of the past still lingering in his eyes and give him a confession of my own in turn. Hoping to drive away some of the memory clinging to him.

“I was never lonely,” I start, my smile fading. “But I did wonder from time to time…”

“What it would’ve been like.”

“Yeah,” I answer softly. “I think I would have liked to have had siblings, someone to play with when I was little.”

His lips ghost up and he runs his thumb along my cheek. “You would have been a little dictator. Teaching them all sorts of naughty things and having them carry out your misdeeds for you.”

A surprised laugh escapes me at the picture he paints. “Probably,” I concede.

He dips his head and kisses me deeply then, slowly, with this newfound reverence we discovered down in the muck of the earth yesterday. Beautiful in its love, its purity. When my body starts urging for more, I pull back though, despite the need already building in me. Everything south of my shorts is aching after last night, deliciously so, but still, the man had found a limit I didn’t even know my body possessed.

“I…” How to say this delicately… “I think we might have to visit an ER if your cock comes anywhere near me today.”

A quiet laugh leaves him, the smug grin on his face the embodiment of male satisfaction. “I figured.” He presses another soft kiss to my lips. “You want your poem for the day?”

I cock a brow. “Are we still doing that?”

“Maybe not with the same stipulations as before…” That thumb on my cheek. “But still, my words will always be yours.”

I nod quickly. “Then yes, of course. I’m ready.” I smirk like the brat he calls me. “Worship me with your words.”

He shakes his head at me, smile still on his face as he reaches over and opens the bedside drawer, pulling his journal from its depths. I roll onto my stomach, crossing my arms and dropping my chin onto them while he flips it open and leafs through the pages until he finds the one he wants toward the back. His eyes move across the words on the page as if checking for errors before he speaks.

“These stars of ours were written in darkness and bound with light. Ensuring my soul would seek yours for eternity. Forever lost to this captivating insanity of we.”

His words reach right in and grab hold of my heart, leaving it achingly full of love and my eyes pricking with feeling.

Lifting his head, his lips pull up at the corners when he finds me peeking up at him with a rare, silly smile on my face.

“When did you write that?”

“A few days ago.” He shrugs.

“You know you have my heart, right?” I tell him, that damn pricking behind my eyes causing my voice to quietly break. “It’s yours, battered as it may be.”

He scoots down the bed and lies right next to me, night-forest eyes soft on mine.

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