Page 115 of Fallen

“Come for me, angel.” He rocked his hips up in a hard thrust.

My skin heated. I was so sensitized, so near the edge. Pleasure balled in the base of my stomach.

I rasped his name and ground myself against him.

“Mine,” he said, and the dominant way he said it sent me over the edge again.

This time, he followed me, thrusting hard several times before groaning out his release and stilling deep inside me, his face buried in my neck. “So. Damn. Good.”

I stroked his head. He shuddered and tightened his grip on me.

He was right. This—the sex—was so damn good. And it could be mine for as long as I lived. He’d never release me from the blood bond.

I swallowed back tears. Because it wasn’t enough.

I loved him, and I wasn’t a half-assed kind of woman. I couldn’t be content with just a blood bond.

I wanted to be his partner, not his thrall. Wanted to be his mate.

But first, I’d have to regain his trust.

“Say it again,” he said. “Say you love me. Even if you don’t really mean it.”

Oh, Brien.

He was so screwed up in some ways. I was starting to understand why. With parents like his, he knew nothing about love. He only knew power, possession, control.

But then, what did I know about it myself? I’d never relaxed my guard enough long enough to let myself fall in love.

My father had loved my mother, but he’d hated that she was a slayer. They’d argued about it whenever she was home. She’d agree to quit—after the next job. But then there was another job and another, ops that only Shade could handle. It took her dying for me to realize she would’ve never quit. That she hadn’t loved my dad—or me—enough to give up being a slayer.

I figured if that was what love was, I was better off without it.

So when I’d felt that punch in the heart when I’d first met Brien, I’d been scared to death. So I’d run. But it hadn’t worked. I hadn’t been able to forget him, and now I had a chance for a do-over.

How many times does life give you a second chance?

I traced my lips down his cheek to his mouth. “I love you,” I said against his mouth. “And Idomean it.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave me a hard hug. I kissed him, slow and deep.

He pulled back to cup my face. “Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. If anything goes wrong, Cain and Talon will get you off the island. And you’ll have a passport and a phone by morning—and some cash. They’re yours no matter what happens.”

My heart squeezed. It was his way of saying that he trusted me, that he believed I’d keep the blood-bond agreement.

I set my forehead against his. “Thank you.”

He eased me off him and resettled me on his lap with my legs to the side.

He idly played with my hair, combing his fingers through the strands and toying with the ends. “Should I wash it now?” he asked, and when I said yes, massaged a lemon-scented shampoo into my hair, rinsing it off with a hand-held shower. He repeated the process with a palmful of conditioner.

When he was finished, he pressed his lips to the back of my neck. “Ready to get out?”

I heaved a reluctant breath. “Not really. But I guess I’d better before I turn into a prune.”

Brien chuckled and came to his feet, bringing me with him. As we exited the tub, he grabbed two towels from the warming rack and we took turns drying each other off.

I dried my hair and rebraided it. Brien got dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt and black nylon utility pants, and stood in the doorway, watching me.

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