Page 23 of His to Keep

Swallowing hard, my body trembles. “Y-you won’t.”

“How do you know?” He grabs my arm, and my heart jolts from his unexpected grip. “I could be just as bad as him. Maybe even worse.”

“You’re not. I don’t think you are.” Tears tumble from my eyes as he huffs out with exasperation like he can’t believe I won’t accept that he’s terrible. He lets go, leaving a smear of dirt and blood on my skin.

Leaning forward, I take his face in my palms, not knowing what the hell I’m doing but needing him to see the truth. His forehead creases with confusion, eyes becoming wary. “What are you doing?”

“Father Aaron’swrong,” I tell him resolutely. “You’re not bad. If you were, you’d have hurt me already. So, let me help you. Please.”

Our eyes meet, and his breath is on my lips. We’re close, closer than we’ve ever been, and I have the greatest need to take his pain away, and so I do. Leaning in, I put my lips on his and kiss him.

I kiss Father Aaron’s son.

Chapter Fourteen

My first kiss was with a boy from church, but it didn’t feel like this. Lips warm against mine, his taste a bittersweet combination of blood and tears. My heart races, stomach twists, and toes curl. Heat consumes me when he kisses me back, lips moving against mine, slow and careful and so, achingly deep.

But the moment comes to a crashing end when he breaks the spell and pushes me away with his arm. Falling back onto my bum, I blink up at him in shock. He glares at me, the blue in his eyes formidable. That’s when it hits me. Ikissedhim.

The same question I have for myself blares in his eyes, and even though I wish he wouldn’t, he asks it. “Why did you do that?” His voice rattles with an emotion I can’t decipher, even with the demand in the back of it.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, shaking my head with utter confusion. “I wanted to make you feel better.”

The lines between his eyebrows deepen as my words sink in. Pushing himself up, he succeeds this time, despite his body swaying unsteadily. Reaching out to help him once more, he knocks me back. “Just stop.”

Shrinking back, the cold burn of rejection spreads through my chest and stabs into my stomach. A tear falls from my eye and drops between my knees. He watches it, glare wavering slightly. Jaw clenching, he staggers into the bathroom and slams the door shut. Like he’s taken a part of my soul with him, I sit there with tears running down my cheeks. I shouldn’t have kissed him. What was I thinking? He’s in pain and suffering, and Ikissedhim. Something he clearly didn’t want and hated.

Hearing the familiar trickle of water from the shower, I imagine his struggle, and I don’t want to sit here this time. I don’t want to let this go. Not having Callum here has made me realize how much I need him. He’s survived Father Aaron this long; maybe he could teach me how to withstand this life.

At least, I tell myself that as I make my way over to the bathroom. I know I’m treading on thin ice but refuse to give up even with the risks. Heat caresses my skin as I peek inside. Standing in the bathtub, hot, steamy water pelts against his clothed body. Walking closer, I expect him to turn and glare at me again. Demand I get out. He doesn’t. Staring ahead, his eyes are ghosted with something that makes my insides ache.

Water spits at me as I get closer, and my dress clings to my skin from the humidity. Water streams down his face and body, washing away the grime and torture he’s been through. Opening my mouth to say something, he finally looks at me, and my voice dies.

Once again, there’s nothing to say.

Lifting my dress to my knees, I step into the tub and stand in front of him. What I’m doing, I have no idea. Someone could walk in and catch us. We’d both be punished then. Yet, I find myself reaching to unbutton his shirt, and like I knew they would, his hands capture my wrists the moment I grab the material between my fingers.

“I won’t touch you,” I try and reassure him, thinking it’s the reason for his caginess, but he only stares back at me. The heat from his touch is hard to ignore. Something I know isn’t from the shower.

Pushing on, he keeps a firm grasp on me as I undo his buttons, only letting go so I can peel the destroyed shirt off his body. I gently pull it down his arms, careful not to touch him, the back of my throat going bone dry when it falls to the floor of the tub.

His body sags with relief, and I gasp when he leans into me so water can get to his back. He grunts, lips sealing together to suppress the yell of agony I know is there. I take the opportunity to inspect the damage. Large black and purply bruises cover his chest, some lashes of the whip here too, though nothing compared to the state of his back. I go to shift around to see, but he blocks my way.“Let me look.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not as bad as it seems. I’ve had worse.”

I inhale sharply when he retakes hold of my wrists, fingers so tight around my skin, I know he’ll unintentionally bruise me. He presses me up against the cool tiles, trapping me in, and I lose my breath completely.

“Stop pitying me, Ava.” It’s the first time he’s said my name out loud, and his tone is back to angry. “Why did you kiss me?”

My body trembles. “I don’t…I wanted to take your pain away.”

Even as I say it, I know how stupid it sounds. How could a kiss help him? How could I think anythingIdo would help him? How stupid.Childish. Now he thinks I did it out of sympathy, and maybe I did, but he’s right. I shouldn’t pity him—I should pity myself for being ridiculous.

“I don’t believe you,” he says as I lose sensation in my fingers. “You felt sorry for me. It’s right there, in your damn eyes.”

The back of my throat aches. “Callum, I—”

“I wonder if you’d feel the same if I told you I did this to myself. Would you have kissed me then?” His expression drowns me, and I’m all too aware of the fire between us. “Would you have kissed me if you knew I liked it?”

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