Page 161 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part One

“No,” he says, and the way he delivers the single syllable is like a dart to the heart. There’s so much in the sound—possession, command…vulnerability.

Storm says he loves me often, but I’ve kept that part of myself back. I haven’t said those three words in return, and when he says them, I usually play them off or ignore them.

Patient. Storm’s patient until he isn’t.

“Don’t worry, Storm. I’m not gonna go allSingle White Femaleon you,” I say, going for a light tone. Going for theI-don’t-care-what-you-feel-because-this-is-just-some-horny-funtone.

But Storm rears back as if I’d slapped him.

“What? What the fuck are you talking about, Sweetness?” He looks so serious, I don’t know what to do with his reaction.

“It’s a— I’m joking,” I say. Awkward. This is so damn awkward.

“Baby,” he says, grabbing my chin, in that move he seems to love.

“Yes, Storm?” I say, still trying to play it cool.

“Don’t do that,” he commands. His grip tightens, but it doesn’t hurt.

Not at all. Not like the hurt my heart is preparing for.

“Look at me, Shae.” Another command, one I’m unable and unwilling to resist. I lift my eyes to his, and it’s like staring into the heart of the universe.

There are so few times that Storm shows all of himself. Usually, he isolates himself from all emotion, choosing to let people see the parts he wants them to see.

But with me? He lets me in…not all the time, but often enough and deep enough for me to reach in and touch his soul.

“Shae Olivya Rivers, I love you.”

The words are soft, but they echo around me like we’re in an amphitheater. I don’t know what to think or feel, at least, when my brain is in the driver’s seat.

My heart, however, is doing a line dance with my hormones and screaming, “He loves me! He really loves me!”

“You don’t have to say it backyet,” he says, and he’s cocky enough to give a sideways grin on the last word. “But I want you to know this isn’t a joke for me. I fucking love you, Shae.”

He doesn’t look angry or troubled. He looks…at peace. Like everything is right in his world and he’s safe and I’m safe and everything is okay.

Everything is okay.

My eyes slide closed when our foreheads kiss, and I relax into the silence, the sensation of his arms around me, and his slowly deflating dick moving out of my body.

“I love you, too, Storm Sandoval.” The confession is a whisper, delivered on a slow breath, but he hears the words, nonetheless.

His hold tightens around me before letting me go to slide his palms up my fabric-covered thighs.

“Thank you,” he whispers, then places a quick kiss on my mouth.

“For what?”

“For saying it back. For believing me when I said it to you, even though it took you a minute.” We both laugh and then I yelp when he gives a light pinch to my backside.

Then he has to go and ruin the moment.

“March 15this a few days away,” Storm says, my lungs seizing.

“Mmhmm,” I reply.

“So you’ll have to make a decision soon.”

---