Page 83 of Cut Me Down

She lays one hand on top of mine as she uses the other against my chest to ground herself. Gripping my flesh as a lifeline while our paces slow. The feeling of our hands touching like that is unexpected, but not unwelcome. I can feel the electricity between us just from the one subtle touch, and has my heart feeling weak. It only lasts for a second before she drops that hand to my chest as well. The first moment we met, I allowed her to do the same thing, and now that she’s done it again and taken it away so quickly, I miss it. I never thought I’d want to reach down and pick her hand up in mine, but I do, and the urge is almost too powerful to resist.

So instead, I place my hand on her heaving chest to feel her racing heart. My palm lays against her sternum and in between her breasts. Rising and falling steadily with her chest, and she reacts by running her hand over my arm gently. Trailing the tips of her fingers over my flesh delicately.

“Fuck you are…”

“Amazing…” She finishes for me before she moves her hand to my jaw. “You really are amazing.” She says with sleepy eyes. As if my heart wasn’t already running a mile a minute, it picks up pace with her words. “I know I haven’t said it out loud to you, but I really like you, and I'm glad that you found me…”

I’m pretty sure my heart just stopped beating.

I can physically feel my face relax as I reach up, grab her face in my hands, and pull her down to me so her body is flush with mine. I know she feels this way, but fuck hearing her say it has me feeling like my heart is going to burst. Like any moment, I’ll just spontaneously combust.

“Me too, little wolf. I'm so grateful for you. Every damn day.” I kiss her again as I wrap my arms around her soft body. Pulling her as close to me as possible so I never have to let go and then roll us over to fit her perfectly beneath me.

Chapter thirty

Ashia

‘Give’ – Sleep Token

One Week Later

Jerking awake, I notice the small amount of subtle light making its way in through the window. It must be early, a little before six in the morning. I halfway expected to have a ball gag in my mouth, but there’s nothing. Three weeks ago, I woke up in his arms, and I have every morning since. I’m kind of disappointed to notice that his arms aren’t wrapped around me right now. The bed feels cold, and I have a feeling I would have slept much better if his normal weight was pressing against me.

Is he okay? Have I pushed him away too much? I’ve been putting him through the ringer since my confession in bed last week. I’ve been…distant. I’m not really screaming at him anymore, and he still talks to me about what he had to do that day, but I’m not really telling him about mine or asking a lot of questions. I'm all over the place. Flirting with him and enjoying his company for one second, then trying to ignore him the next. Allowing my fear to take over again and again. The sex with him feels amazing, but the more and more he shows me himself, the more scared I get, because I'm catching myself feeling every little schoolgirl thought about him. What our future could look like, and how I would feel if I lost him.

Last night, he said he would show me his life soon. He says showing is better than telling, and I'm honestly terrified of what that entails. What could he possibly have planned? Is he going to take me with him one night? I’m not scared because I think he’ll physically hurt me, but of the hurt that would follow if I ever lost him. I'm starting to feel like I couldn't handle him not being next to me every night. Even now, when I woke up and didn’t immediately feel the warmth of his body next to mine. The coldness only sunk in deeper, and seeped into my chest.

I lift my head to look towards the door. Hoping that he’s just in the living room finishing up some paperwork, but I catch him at the end of the bed. Not in his usual prowling demeanor, or with a sex crazed gleam in his eye. He’s just sitting there. Looking so distraught it makes my heart ache. His elbows are resting on his knees, his head is cradled in his hands, and his breathing looks rigid, like he’s in pain.

“I'm sorry, little wolf. I didn’t mean to wake you. You can go back to sleep.” He says with a groan, and without ever looking up. Okay, now this is strange. He genuinely looks distraught and isn’t trying to stick my ass in the air.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him softly.

“Nothing Ashia, just a long night.” He says much colder than before. Is he upset with me? Should I have noticed that he was there sooner? Sex and affection I feel like are two different things. While Damien has shown me affection, I’ve onlywillinglyshown him desire, lust, even though he sees right through me. I’ve been trying not to like him. Not to let him in my caged heart and feel this way about him. But seeing him like this, I hate it. It’s bringing actual pain to my chest and the worry manifests on the tip of my tongue. Making my mouth dry from the anxiety.

I sit up fully and crawl over the bed to settle behind him. Gently placing my hand on his back, I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. His breathing is shaky, and his muscles feel so taut I’m afraid they’ll snap under the pressure he’s putting on himself. I run my hand up and down his back to try and comfort him. Attempting to loosen some of the tension.

“Don’t do that.” I say quietly. “Don’t put up your draw bridge.” I feel him turn his head back to look at me, and I lift my gaze to meet him. “I know I’ve been difficult lately, but you can talk to me.” He takes a deep breath at the thought. Almost like he’s afraid to say whatever is on his mind.

“We were taking down a warehouse tonight. A few new ones have popped up the past couple of weeks.” His jaw clenches with evident emotion turmoil. “Henry, one of my men…my friend. The one you saw last week?” I nod. “He died tonight.” I feel his body tense as the words leave his mouth, and my heart immediately sinks. “I had to go and tell his wife, that’s why I'm so late.” I feel another deep, shaky breath wrack his chest. Like he’s trying to contain tears. “They have two kids. A little three-year-old girl, and an infant boy. Not even four months old. How…” He swallows harshly. “How are they supposed to get past this…”

“I'm so sorry.” I wrap my other arm around his chest.

“I gave his wife money, which I know doesn’t help much right now, but I wanted them to be okay down the road. It’ll pay for his funeral, their house, another house if she wants, and both kids for college. But it’s not enough.” I hear the choked, soft tone, laced with guilt, in his voice. The words in his mind telling him that he’s the reason his man died. I can’t imagine what’s exactly going through his mind. I wasn’t there to hear the sounds or see the commotion, but from his current state, I imagine it was horrible. I’ve never seen him so distraught. The thoughts of anguish are whispering to him, pulling him downward into a depressing spiral.

I move my hand from his chest and place it on his cheek. My heart instantly melts as he sighs lightly, and nudges into it.

“Hey, you didn’t force him to work for you. He wanted to because he believed in the same things you do. I can’t imagine someone fighting the way you all do for nothing. You didn’t get him killed, Damien.” He closes his eyes in contemplation. Almost like he’s trying to convince himself. I feel as he nods against my hand and kisses my palm before he stands up.

“I'm going to take a shower. You can go back to sleep if you want.” He walks away and into the bathroom, shuts the door, and turns on the light.

Sadness washes over me. Crashing into me like a tidal wave. I've never seen him like this. So hurt. So irrevocably disconsolate. I want to comfort him. Hold him tight so he knows he isn’t alone.

What am I doing?Don’t fall for him…don’t fall for him…the same words I said to myself that night in the forest. Pushing these feelings aside isn’t an option anymore. He needs me. I want to comfort him, and so far the only thing I know that makes him feel better, is me. Now I know I'm fucked, and my self pleas are useless. I don’t want him to be in pain…and I want to do everything I can to help him heal.

I stand up and undress myself as I hear the water run, and I feel the steam absorb into my body as I open the bathroom door. Anticipation and nervousness creeps into my bones, and I actually find myself shaking slightly. What if he wants to be alone? Maybe he's not the type to want comforting. Either way, he needs to know I'm here for him. That he doesn’t have to be alone if he doesn’t want to be. If he wants space, I'll give that to him, but I can’t resist the urge to check on him.

As I pull back the shower curtain and step in, I can see him. His blue and purple, bruised covered back and side. All very fresh, and going to look much worse tomorrow. My mouth drops in a silent gasp. The defined muscles in his back look as tense as they felt, and I can almost see them twitch in pain. It looks like he was beat to hell. The dark painful color runs over his sides and ribs, as well as down his spine.

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