Page 28 of Searching for Hope

“I only did what I thought was best for Ette. She’s happy here with us, isn’t she?”

“She has no friends her own age, no socialization. She’s frighteningly—”

“I couldn’t just give her up!” he explodes. “What would I say to Hope if she came back home only to find her child with the very man she did everything she could to keep her away from?” Lowering himself to the ground, he takes my hands in his. “Berkley, please. Please tell me you understand.” He lifts my hands to his mouth, his lips brushing across them as he speaks. “I’m being honest, more honest than I’ve been with anyone before. Ever.”

“But—” I lick my lips, not wanting to say the words that are about to fall from my mouth, but knowing I have to. “But you stole her. You lied to everyone who—”

“I’m protecting her!” His voice echoes off the walls.

I pull my hands out of his, scooting back to put space between us. “And my father thought he was protect—”

“Stop comparing me to him. I’m nothing like him.”

“Then who are you, Jericho? Are you the surly man who stalks around a castle with a constant frown on his face and spends all his time searching for his lost sister while hiding his niece from the world? Or are you the playboy gambler who’s out there seeking revenge?”

“Don’t you see? I’m both.” He groans and gets to his feet, pushing his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m both, Berkley. I’m good and I’m bad. I’m searching for Hope but I want revenge.” He starts to pace. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about heading down to that basement and letting all my frustration out? How many times I’ve dreamt of putting a fucking bullet in your father’s chest? The things I’ve heard that he—” He lets out a low and heavy breath. “I’m in a constant battle with myself. While pretending to be someone I’m not, I’ve lost part of who I am. In fact, I don’t even know who I am anymore. All I know is that I made a promise to Ette and I’m this close to getting the information I need. It’s all tied up down there in my basement but to get it, do I need to become the same as the people I’m trying to save Hope from?”

His eyes skip between mine. “I’m torn. I’m so fucking tired of pretending. I’m tired of pretending that I don’t want you. But I do Berkley. I fucking do. I want you in my life even if I don’t deserve you.” He bites his lip again. “And I’m so sick of fighting it. So sick of trying to deny the feelings I have for you, but the truth is, I want you. I don’t want to stand by and watch that Michael fucking Gorman fawn all over you without being able to tell you that I want you.” He kneels before me. “I thought I could be strong. I thought I could resist you but it’s an impossibility. Now that you’re here, I don’t ever want you to go.” He’s looking at me pleadingly, searching for my answer in my eyes. He’s on his knees, begging me. “Is it wrong of me to want you? Is it wrong of me to want, just for once, some happiness in my life? I’ve dedicated my life to finding Hope but right now, as terrible as it sounds, I’d give it all up, I’d give up all hope of finding her if it meant you could be mine.”

Leaning forward, I grip his face and kiss him gently. All hesitation falls away. All of the confusion, all of the worry over right and wrong fades and there’s only him and me. No one else.

He’s hesitant at first, returning my kiss softly before pulling away.

“Does this mean…” He swallows and doesn’t finish the question.

“If you hadn’t realized already, I’ve been throwing myself at you for a while now, despite—” I grin. “Despite everything.”

“But Ette, Hope—”

“I don’t care.” I kiss him again. “I don’t care about any of it. Nothing. I’ve been waiting for you to—”

I don’t get to finish the words because his lips crash into mine. And it’s everything I’ve been waiting for. Lust and desire lash through me violently. He moves closer, shuffling between my knees. I wrap my thighs around his waist, tugging him closer and trapping him as his arms embrace me. He stands, and I cling to him as we tangle in an exquisite collision of passion and need. Part of me always knew this would happen. But part of me was afraid it wouldn’t.

“So you don’t hate me?” He breaks away from our kiss, eyes scanning mine. “You don’t think I’m a monster?”

“Yes,” I say, my mouth diving back to feverishly run over the angles of his jaw. “I do. But you’remymonster.”

His teeth tug at my bottom lip, causing an unbearable shudder of arousal to convulse through me. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this?” His breath is labored and heavy. “But I never thought it would happen.” He pulls away for an instant. “Oh god,” he says. “It shouldn’t be happening.”

I run my tongue up the side of his neck, resting my lips against his ear. “But it is.” I bite his earlobe. “I’ve thought about this too. I want it to happen, Jericho. I want you.”

He groans as he tilts his head to the side, exposing the flesh of his neck further. I kiss his skin, relishing the slightly salty taste of him. My tongue runs over his stubble, rough and ragged. His groans turn to growls and he throws me onto the bed, tossing off his shirt as he clambers over me.

Right now, I don’t see a man seeking his sister. I don’t see a man keeping my father captive or hiding his niece from the world. I just see him. Jericho. The object of my desire.

His mouth fumbles over my lips, eliciting sharp pangs of longing as his tongue dances with mine. He nips. He caresses. He ravishes. When he pulls away, it’s only to tear the clothing from my body and toss it to the floor. He stops then, his legs pressed either side of me, his body trapping me in place as he slows down, a hand extending to cup my left breast. His eyes are dark with hunger.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Berkley. So fucking beautiful.” And then he lowers his mouth to my breast, taking my nipple between his teeth and applying enough pressure that I want to pull him closer at the same time as escape. I dig my fingers into his scalp, reveling in a way that expresses all the sensations running through my body. Being with someone has never felt like this before. It’s always accompanied by guilt and fear. But here, now, I’m both drowning and floating. Dancing while being forced to stay still.

Jericho’s mouth travels further down my body, skipping over the contours of my stomach as I twist in ecstasy under his touch. Fireworks dance beneath my skin, threatening to explode. He drags his tongue along the line of my groin. It’s heaven and it’s hell.

“Don’t stop,” I moan, pushing his head down, needing to feel the softness of his tongue against my most sensitive of places, and surprising myself with my boldness.

He licks me once.

I moan.

He licks me again.

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