Page 127 of Double Standards
Our lips meet and part in a rhythm that builds, deeper, hungrier. My tongue glides along the seam of her lips and she opens for me, welcoming me home.
This—this—is what right feels like.
She tugs at the back of my neck, the other hand clawing gently over my shoulder and into my back, dragging me flush against her. Her nails bite through my shirt, and it’s not pain I feel. It’s life. Her body presses against mine, soft and warm and everything I’ve been trying to deny myself.
A whimper leaves her throat, part moan, part relief, and I lose what little restraint I had left. My hands roam, greedy for her, for every curve, every inch of her skin. I was an idiot. A coward. My own twisted sense of morality stood in the way of what I want most.
Fuck my morals.
I lift her effortlessly, pain flaring in my stomach, but I grit through it. She wraps her legs around me like second nature.
“Axel…” she breathes against my jaw, voice thick with longing.
But I don’t stop. My lips trail to the soft spot below her earlobe. I suck, nip, mark her like it’s the only language I still speak.
“Axel,” she says again, firmer this time, her palm pressing to my chest.
I pause.
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, everything stills. Her painis right there, naked in her gaze. The grief. The heartbreak. The weight of everything I did wrong.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
The apology tastes like blood on my tongue—not because it’s hard to say, but because it means owning just how much I’ve hurt her. And that… that’s unbearable.
She shakes her head and pushes gently against me. I lower her back to the floor, reluctant to let go. My arm snakes around her waist, needing the contact, even if I know we’re not finished.
“Stay,” I plead, brushing a strand of gold behind her ear.
“I’m not going to do that.” Her gaze drops to my stomach. She grazes her fingers over the stitches, soft and full of care. “You need rest.”
“I need you,” I murmur, smirking slightly as I grind my growing need against her stomach.
She slaps my chest, light but pointed, a small smile playing on her lips. “Not tonight, Axel. Not until you come out ofhere.” Her finger taps my temple.
She’s right. God, I hate that she’s right. Sex won’t chase away the demons in my head. It won’t fix the guilt, the fear, the darkness. That’s my fight.
“Until then,” I say, echoing her words with a smirk, already knowing what I have to do.
“Until then.” Her lips find mine again—soft, slow, lingering. And then she’s gone.
At the doorway, she glances back, a coy smile dancing on her lips. I’m already counting down the seconds until I get to kiss them again. Everything feels easier with her—lighter.
So why the hell does it feel so hard to just take those first steps out of the dark?
The door clicks shut behind her. Silence settles in again. The darkness presses in like it always does.
But this time, something’s changed.
This time, she’s shown me a way through it. She didn’t pull me out. She handed me the flashlight and dared me to follow.
And I will.
I make a mental note: punch Trigger for dragging her here… and thank the bastard right after.
Because she’s back.
Chapter Forty-Three
