Page 45 of The Preachers' Promise
Her voice is a whisper. “How can you love me? I’m scarred and damaged, and I hear another man in my head.”
I push a stray strand of hair from her face. “Baby, we’re all scarred and damaged. That’s how we know how to heal each other’s wounds.”
A tear slips down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb.
“I love you, too, Malachi.”
My heart swells to twice its size. “And Roman and Cain, too.” It isn’t a question. If she feels this way about me, I know she’ll feel the same way about them.
She molds her lips softly to mine before pulling back. “Yes, but let me tell them in my own time, okay? It’s important.”
“Anything you want.” I cup her cheek and kiss her again, relishing the taste, feel, and scent of her.
I wouldn’t dream of ruining this moment for either of my two best friends.
Her lips are soft against mine, and I pull her closer. Our tongues tangle and, because of how she’s straddling me, my growing erection jams against her pussy. I know what she’s gone through, and I don’t want to push her, but God, I want her so much. She kisses me harder and grinds herself onto me. It seems I’m not the only needy one here.
My hands move from the backs of her thighs to her ass, and I slip them underneath the waistband of the oversized shorts to cup her bare skin. She’s not wearing any panties. Our breathing grows more frantic, and she shows no signs of this not being what she wants. It’s definitely what I want. I need to be inside her. I want to use my body to wash away anything bad that’s ever happened to her.
She loves me,I think.She loves us.
The four of us are meant to be.
I try not to give thought to all the things that stand in our way—Ophelia’s father, our families, the Prophet, all our combinedtrauma. We will figure out a way through this, no matter what. All that counts is that we’re together.
23
ROMAN
I’ve changed and showered,relieved to wash the blood from my skin. Cain called his friend and was told there are clothes we can wear in the guest bedrooms. Apparently, the locked door at the end of the top floor corridor is the owner’s private suite, and all the other bedrooms are for guests.
I knew Ophelia was taking a bath, so I chose another room with an adjoining bath to take a shower.
I rub my hair dry as I look around, taking in the luxury of the room. Everything about this space screams wealth?from the thick carpet my toes are sinking into, to the huge bed, and the abstract art on the walls.
I grab myself some loose sweats from one of the drawers, and a t-shirt, and pull them on. The clothes are new and clearly placed there for guests because the tags are still attached, and they come in a variety of sizes. One drawer is full of men’s stuff, and another contains women’s clothes. All of it is kind of plain, but good quality. Thick cotton abounds, and there’s even some cashmere. Everything screams of a man with money and power, and I’d like to know more about this guy.
Walking to bed, I run my hands over the dark gray sheet. Silk.Real silk, a little rough against the fingers, not that fake,overly smooth stuff you get that’s a lot cheaper. Silk sheets, thick carpeting, a bed that looks like it was custom-made, it’s that fucking big, and this is only a guest room.Nice.
Running a back-alley fight club must pay well, unless Cain’s friend does something else, too, which I suspect he does.
As I stare at the bed, I picture all of us in it. It’s damn well big enough. Will that ever happen again? The three of us and Ophelia? I want it to, but I’ve probably ruined it with what I did to that man.
I think of touching him, of holding his dick, and the oily, sticky way it made me feel.
Shame. That’s what coats me whenever I think of the past. I don’t know why I feel that way. I understand what happened when I was a child wasn’t my fault, but understanding and feeling are two very different things. Ever since being in the room with that fucker, and holding his disgusting dick, the shame has covered me anew. I scrubbed myself in the shower, but I couldn’t get it off. Couldn’t get free of it.
I need Ophelia. I need to hold her and breathe in her scent, and oh, gods, I want to sink into her. She’s the only thing that can wash this away, but I’ve scared her, and I don’t know if she’ll ever desire me again.
How will she even be able to look at me without thinking of that moment?
Sighing, I throw the towel down over the back of a large, soft chair that faces at an angle toward the window and the views of the woods beyond. Padding out of the room, I go to look for the others. Cain said the fridge is fully stocked, and there’s plenty of alcohol, too. The fact there’s a safe full of weapons is reassuring. His friend certainly hasn’t scrimped on anything for his guests.
I’m heading toward the living area to find Cain and Mal when I hear a distant giggle. I turn and walk down the hallway, following the sound, my bare feet cool against the wood floors.I pause, cocking my head to listen, and there it is again. That’s definitely a woman laughing.
The door to my right is slightly ajar, so I push it open and stare. I’m not staring at Mal and Ophelia, who are kissing up a storm, but at the room itself.
“Is this a recording studio?” I ask idiotically.
