Page 74 of From West, With Regret

She lifts her chin, staring straight at me. The words stick like glue to the back of my throat, refusing to budge.

“It’s a long, complicated one.” I smirk, letting out a sigh.

I can’t be the one to tell her. Either she won’t believe me, or if she heard me out, what would happen then? Would I run the risk of losing her again? Because she’ll not only remember me, but everything else that comes along with it?

Her face relaxes. “Maybe for another time, then.”

“Another time.” I nod.

She looks at the necklace longingly for a moment before wrapping one hand around the charm. With her other, she drags her black-painted nail down the length of my jaw.

“Kiss me,” she whispers, her eyes falling to my mouth as she tugs on the charm.

I do so without hesitation. My lips press to hers, and I’m transported back to the day she gave me this necklace. The memory plays in my mind, and for a moment, I imagine a world in which she remembers it just like I do.

“Touch me again,” she says against my mouth.

“Are you sure?” I ask, leaning on my left arm while using my free hand to explore her body.

She wiggles beneath me, the heaviness around the topic ofmy necklace dissolving with every breath. Sadness tugs at the barbed wire wrapped around my wounded heart, but it subsides long enough to allow the happiness I feel wrapped up in London to take over.

My fingers find her swollen clit again.

“You aren’t too sore, are you? I didn’t hurt you last night?” I ask, fighting back a smirk. I don’t ever want London to be in pain or hurt, especially because of me, but there’s a flutter of satisfaction in knowing it’s only because we haven’t been able to stop since last night.

“No.” She shakes her head. “You could never hurt me.”

I grin wickedly. “Do you want me to kiss and make it better?” I start to lower myself down her body, but she stops me, spreading her legs wide.

She lifts her hips to meet me.

My dick is wide awake, our conversation about the necklace now long gone.

She bites down on her bottom lip, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of her tongue piercing, the silver ball sitting on top of her tongue.

She hums as she shakes her head, then pushes against my chest. Fire rages in her eyes as she straddles me as soon as my back hits the mattress. We both laugh, only to stop abruptly when she slides herself over my dick.

Fuck, I’m going to come if she does that again.

Leaning down to meet me, she brushes her nose to mine as she holds back her curtain of raven-colored hair.

“It’s my turn to kiss and make it better,” she whispers.

And holy motherfucking shit.

I’m in love with London Walker.

Her nails scratch the front of my hardened pecs, and my entire body stiffens. Each of her kisses against my muscles is a silent bandage to the pain we’ve been through. The years ofsilence. London hasn’t regained her memory, but I know she’s in there.

Because the London I fell in love with at fifteen is the same as the one in my bed right now. Only she’s now a twenty-eight-year-old woman. Fucking beautiful.

She lowers herself until her mouth is in line with my cock. She grips onto the base, each of her gold rings glistening in the morning sun. “Tell me what you want me to do, Mr. Knight.”

I sit up and scoot back until my back hits my headboard. London stays on all fours, crawling to catch up to where I am. Her full breasts sway as she moves, the curve of her hips on full display with her actions. She grabs onto my base again, and I hook my finger under her jaw, tilting her face up to me.

“Open that pretty mouth of yours,” I tell her, deepening my voice.

Goddamn, this woman has all of me.

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