Page 71 of Daughter of a Monster

“Should I get some ice?”

Her hand snakes around my side and clutches onto my back as though holding me in place. “Please just stay a while. I’m not ready to be alone. I need you.”

My stupid heart swells.

And my stupid fucking cock does too.

chapter twenty-four

BERKLEY

When I wake, he’s no longer beside me. I blink a few times, my eyes adjusting to the light and then I see him. He’s leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, head tilted to the side like I’m something to be studied, observed. He’s changed now and wearing a t-shirt and jeans but his feet are still bare.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move.

I sit on the edge of the bed and use the bedside cabinet to help me stand, keeping the weight off my bad foot. It thuds with pain when I lower it, but I’ve dealt with worse. Hobbling over to him, I look into his eyes. They hold a sadness that wasn’t there before. A sort of despair. Even though there are bruises on his knuckles from where he beat my father, even though he’s locked me away, even though he’s lied to me and manipulated me, chased me and rescued me, I don’t feel any fear. The desire to run has dissipated and instead, when I look up into those dark eyes, all I see is a broken man.

“He took her, didn’t he?” My words are quiet. “He took Ette’s mother, your sister.”

Jericho swallows. It looks difficult as though the action alone causes him pain, but I know pain like that. I know what it means to swallow all the words you want to say.

“Hope.” Her name is released from his mouth as a sob.

I know I should be scared. I know I should hate him. This is the man who locked me up. But I feel none of those things as my hand rises to rest on his cheek. He’s also the man who held me tight when I begged him to not leave me alone.

He just looks at me with those eyes. Those eyes which make my heart tumble and swell. Those eyes which have me questioning everything I think I know about him. Because when I look into those eyes, I get trapped by them. Bewitched.

And the way he’s looking at me is filled with darkness and desire. A man starved. A man hungry for the thing he knows he shouldn’t have. The way he looks at me makes the rest of the world fade.

His head moves forward a fraction. His gaze flicks between my mouth and my eyes. And then, just before they brush over mine, he utters, “I’m sorry.”

His kiss is gentle at first. Hesitant. His lips dance with mine while our bodies remain apart. And then his hands cup my face, deepening our kiss. He takes a step forward, lifts me and then walks until we hit the mattress.

We tumble down, never breaking the connection. Gone is the pain of my ankle. Gone is the thought of the gash on my palm. His hands move, hovering, until they find the hem of my shirt and he tears it over my head.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be—

His mouth falls to my breast, his lips sucking over the flesh and creating sensations so wonderful I can’t help but moan with the pleasure of it.

“Fuck, Berkley,” he says. “I shouldn’t—”

I thread my hands through his hair and tug him to me. Right now I don’t care what we should and shouldn’t be doing. I only care what feels good. What I want.

His mouth teases my nipple, flicking the hardened bud back and forth until I’m writhing beneath him. Running my hands down his back, I fumble with his shirt, trying to pull it over his shoulders. He stops, moving away only long enough to toss his shirt to the floor, and then he clambers over me again.

His chest is covered in a fine layer of dark hair. I run my fingers over his shoulders, relishing the way he groans when I scratch my nails into his skin, leaving a trail of white marks behind.

His hands are everywhere, exploring and digging into my flesh. His head is between my breasts, eagerly running his tongue over the soft swells, licking, biting, sucking.

He lifts his head. “Berkley, I—”

“Shh,” I cut off his words with a kiss. I don’t want to know what he’s about to say. I don’t care. All I care about is the way I feel right now. The things he’s doing to me.

Just for a moment I want to forget everything else.

Our kiss becomes feverish and desperate. His knee digs between my thighs, rubbing the mound between my legs. I pant, arching back as his mouth moves from my lips, down my neck, over my collarbones, and between my breasts. He takes his time as his mouth explores my stomach, nipping the sensitive flesh. I toss and turn in anticipation as his lips tease me. Then he pulls back, his gaze fixed on the apex of my thighs, his eyes darkening to the point that they lose all glimmer of blue. They are ink. Onyx. The color of the night sky.

It’s his breath that flows over the most sensitive part of me first. I buck my hips and his hands plant themselves firmly, holding me in place. At the stroke of his tongue, I fist the covers. It’s never felt this good before. Never created this sensation that starts from deep in my belly and flows through my entire body, tingling when it reaches my fingertips.

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