Page 83 of The Worst Kind of Promise
“I know, Princess.”
She turns to fully face me, and I lift my thumb to brush the teary gunk out of the corner of her eye, the softness of her lashes kissing my skin. “How do I know you won’t hurt me again?”
Because I won’t let it happen.I’ll flip this entire world on its axis and condemn myself to an eternal life of hell if I ever hurt her again.
“I think hurt is a part of life,” I say, the arrhythmic warble of my heart now the loudest sound in the rink. “But I’ll never do anything to hurt you again. Not as long as I live, because I know that if I’m hurting, you’re hurting a thousand times worse than me.”
I start to withdraw my hand from the arc of her cheekbone, but she grabs it before I can get very far. Her touch lances heat through my body, searing enough to burn off my fingerprints and cauterize the open wounds left in the devastation of our fight. “What if I don’t forgive you?” she asks.
“I don’t expect you to. But I’ll work until I earn it, just like I said I would at the restaurant. Maybe it’ll take days, weeks, months. A year. I’ll work forever if that’s what it takes.”
“A year?”
“I have to start over, Faye. A clean slate. And I’m not afraid to.”
Faye goes from holding my hand to wrapping her arms around my torso, nearly knocking me off balance with the force of her hug. I jolt back and drape one arm over the expanse of her ribs, while my other arm keeps us both propped up.
“I love you,” she whispers into my neck.
She loves me. Not just with a “too,” either. Not just a response to my profession. A full statement. I love this girl so fucking much.
She’s warmed up a little from when I first found her, and her fragrant scent sparks every one of my synapses, whetting my appetite for her. I’m this close to using her goddamn shampoo myself just so I can have her smell on me at all times.
I want to kiss her. But maybe it’s too soon. I need to give her time.
My phone pings in my pocket, silencing my artillery fire of thoughts, and that’s when I realize I haven’t updated the group chat about Faye’s whereabouts. Fuck. Hayes is probably still losing his mind.
ME:Found her. She’s safe.
Faye leans over to peek at the screen just as a bunch of relieved texts start flooding in from the guys. My eyes aren’t fast enough to keep up with everything they’re saying.
As much as I want to keep her all to myself, I need to get her somewhere where the default temperature isn’t fifty degrees. “I should probably get you back to the house.”
She smashes her lips together in that demure way she does sometimes, and nothing could have prepared me for what comes out of her mouth next. “What if I don’t want to go back yet?”
31
THE SIN-BIN
KIT
“Why wouldn’t you want to go back?” I inquire, concern stewing deep in my twisted guts.
I’m starting to worry now, so I don’t give her the chance to respond.
“If it’s about your brother, he’s not going to be mad at you. I’m sure he—”
Faye grabs my jaw, her fingers squeezing my cheeks and making my lips purse. “Because we’re finally alone,” she says under her breath.
I stare at her.
She stares at me, except her eyelids are at half-mast.
I blink stupidly, mouth smushed. “I don’t follow.”
Her manicured nails lightly indent my face, and she lets out an impatient growl as her fingers eventually fall away. “I’ve had a shit day, Kit. The worst twenty-four hours of my life. I’m tense, and I need you to fuck the stress out of me.”
Holy shit. Am I seriously that rusty that I didn’t know what she was implying? I want to say I’m a gentleman and would never fuck her when she’s coming off an emotional low, but I’m not a gentleman, and my self-control isn’tthatstrong. Even surrounded by cold air, I can feel my dick lurch in my pants, and my raisin-sized balls are no longer raisin sized anymore.
