Page 22 of Forbidden Passions

Didn’t move.

I just held her.

Held her like a man who didn’t know how to let go.

I didn’t know how much time passed before I came back to reality to feel her trembling beneath me.

Her breath stuttered against my throat, warm and shallow. Her legs were locked around my waist, her arms clinging to my shoulders like she wasn’t ready to let go. Like she thought I might disappear if she loosened her grip.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My cock was still buried inside her, my body wrapped around hers like a shield. And for a minute—for one blinding minute—I let myself believe I could stay like this.

That I could have this.

That I could be the man she thought I was.

But the moment started to splinter. Crack.

I felt it in the silence between us. The silence where guilt lived. Where memory crept in. Where I remembered who I was before she touched me, and why I’d buried that man in the fucking dirt on another continent.

Callie hummed softly, her face pressed to my neck. I felt the vibration of it through my skin. My chest. My ribs. Like she’d carved herself into me from the inside out.

“You okay?” I asked, my voice loud in the stillness.

She gave a tiny nod along with a quiet, dazed laugh. “That was… yeah. I’m okay.”

And fuck, she meant it. I could hear it in her voice. The sweetness. The trust. She’d given me something no one else had. Not just her body. But her first time. Something untouched. Pure. Fucking unclaimed.

And I’d taken it when I should’ve stopped. Should’ve said no when she told me she was a virgin. I hadn’t made love to her. I’d claimed her. Possessed her. I’d barely held back. Hell, I’d barelytried.

I pulled back—just enough to look at her face. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, lashes wet, cheeks flushed. She looked like everything I hadn’t let myself want.

Like a beginning.

But I didn’t get beginnings. Not anymore. I’d spent too long in the rubble of endings.

I brushed a damp curl away from her temple. My hand shook but she didn’t notice. Her body was going limp beneath mine, soft with aftershocks. Trusting. Sated. She blinked up at me with something like wonder in her eyes.

And that’s what did it. That look. Like I was something good. Something safe. Like I hadn’t just broken her open with all the darkness that was me.

“I’ll be right back,” I murmured, easing out of her as gently as I could. Her breath hitched, but she nodded sleepily, already drifting. I tugged the blanket up over her and pressed a kiss to her temple I had no business giving.

I padded into the bathroom on bare feet, grabbing a towel to wipe myself off. It killed me and delighted me to see the evidenceof her innocence on my body. I braced my hands against the sink and stared into the mirror.

The man who looked back wasn’t someone she should’ve trusted. Wasn’t someone who should’ve touched a woman like her with hands that had broken more than they’d ever held.

My reflection didn’t look wrecked.

But I fucking was.

I’d touched something pure and now all I could feel was the pressure building in my chest. A part of me wanted to walk back into that room, climb into bed beside her, and stay there. Another part wanted to open my front door and walk outside and keep on walking.

The lesson had been drilled into me over and over again, that the moment you let yourself want something… it was only a matter of time before life ripped it away.

I’d lost too much to pretend I didn’t know how that story ended.

I walked back into the bedroom, not knowing if that was the right choice, but unable to make the other.

She sighed in her sleep as I pulled back the covers, exposing her fucking gorgeous curvy body to my hungry eyes. Damn, but I wanted to take her again. Instead, I eased her legs apart, caring for her.

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