Page 89 of Flare

“Oh, fuck. Beck. I’m sorry,” he sobbed and dropped his face into his trembling hands. “Son of a bitch. I’m so sorry.”

Reassured he was back from wherever he’d been, I slowly slid across the carpet until I was sitting right in front of him, a half metre between us. On instinct I reached out a hand, then immediately withdrew it, my heart breaking for this remarkable man who was shoved up against a wall like he was nailed to it, terrified and alone, and I was so fucking furious at the arseholes responsible.

I risked a fingertip to his knee, his skin icy cold to the touch, and his head shot up, the misery in his eyes stealing the breath from my lungs. “Is this okay?”

He stared down at my hand and I was almost sure he was going to say no, when he nodded instead, his body trembling.

“Shit, you’re freezing.” I reached behind and grabbed one of the bed throws. “Put this around your shoulders.” I let him tug it around his back, too scared to move myself in case I triggered something.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he muttered, wiping at his eyes.

“Hey, no apologies.” I rubbed his leg. “We knew it wouldn’t last, right?”

His tear-stained face lifted to mine and his eyes went wide. “Oh, fuck no. I did that, didn’t I?” He ran a finger across my forehead and I couldn’t help the wince. It stung like hell, right on my eyebrow.

“You were frightened. You didn’t mean to.”

His eyes filled. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t even remember what happened, just the pressure in my chest and then...” His eyes squeezed shut and his head dropped back against the wall.

“Can I sit beside you?”

He nodded without opening his eyes and I shuffled around until my back pressed against the wall next to him, our shoulders touching. “Can I hold your hand?”

His eyes blinked open, and he looked down and threaded our fingers together, squeezing them lightly. Then he blew out a huge sigh and sank back against the wall.

We sat there for a long time. Ten, fifteen minutes, maybe more, holding hands and saying nothing, my thumb on the inside of his wrist feeling his pulse thrum and settle. At some point he rested his head on my shoulder and I pressed soft kisses into his hair, my world calming in time with his steadying breaths.

He spoke without moving. “I’ll get if this is too complicated for you, too much—”

“If you finish that sentence, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” I warned, trying to keep the sting from my voice. He lifted his head to look at me and I risked a soft touch to his face. “You’ll have to do better than that to scare me away. I did what you said, once I got my shit together. Kept saying your name and mine. Kept my distance. I’m not gonna say it wasn’t scary, but I know now.”

Eyes soft with affection, Rhys crawled over my legs to straddle my hips and cradled my face. I winced and he noticed the red mark on my ribs.

A pained look crossed his face. “Fuck, did I do that as well?” When I didn’t answer, he grimaced. “I did, didn’t I?” His brows knitted as his fingers traced the mark. He lifted them to his lips and then back to my ribs, then he studied the burgeoning lump on my forehead again and planted the lightest of kisses there as well. “It’s gonna bruise,” he said, full of apology.

“I’m going to consider them my war wounds.” I gave a wry smile. “Maybe I should start a running total and up my insurance.” I slid a hand around his neck and gently, carefully brought our mouths together. “But it’s worth it.”

He opened to my kiss and then crushed me against the wall to deepen it, and I immediately dropped my hands, feeling my cock do its thing, inappropriate as always. But Rhys could have whatever the fuck he needed to make this right in his mind.

“Don’t... deserve you... so beautiful... so fucking sorry...”

He kissed me like he meant it and I cupped his arse without thinking. He jerked to a stop.

“Sorry.” I dropped my hands and he sank into my lap, staring at my burgeoning semi nestled against his soft cock.

“God, I hate that you have to second-guess yourself.” He dropped his forehead to my shoulder. “Why can’t my thick head just accept that it’s you and not those fuckers. Iknowit’s you, I canseeyou, and Istillfucking react. I’ve had an attack mid-sex before. I never told you that. I’ve even had to walk away from a couple of hook-ups when I thought I was doing everything right.”

“The mind is a weird and wonderful place.” I nuzzled his neck. “Can I hold you?”

He nodded without lifting his head, and I slid an arm around his waist, keeping the hold light.

“You can’t force your head to just forget and play ball. Besides, this one was really on me. When I came back from the shower and saw you asleep, I should’ve woken you before just climbing into bed to join you. We never really talked about that. I didn’t want to wake you, but I should’ve.” I kissed his hair. “I’m sorry.”

He groaned and shook his head. “I just want to be fucking normal for once. Not have to be so damn careful. Sex with me is like tiptoeing through a minefield. And I want you to fuck me, Beck.” He pinned me with glassy eyes. “I want you inside me, and I’m terrified I won’t ever get to have that.”

“Shh.” I brushed a floppy lock of hair back from Rhys’s face to better see him and to be sure he understood my words. “And just so you know, you’re my very favourite minefield.”

He rolled his eyes but there was a slight quirk to his lips.

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