Page 116 of Wicked Sinner
The feeling that floods through me is so intense it makes me dizzy. Or maybe that's the blood loss. Either way, I have to grip the doorframe tighter to keep from swaying.
"Caesar, are you okay? You look pale?—"
"I'm fine," I assure her, but she's already moving toward me, her hands fluttering over my chest and arms like she's checking for new injuries.
"You shouldn't be standing. Come on, let's get you to bed."
She takes my uninjured arm and starts guiding me toward the bed, and I let her. Not because I need the help, but because I like having her close, like feeling her concern for me. And besides… I’m perfectly happy to let her take me to bed, even if I’m not sure how much is going to be happening once we’re there.
"Bridget," I manage as we reach the bed, "what you said in the car?—"
"I should have told you sooner." She helps me sit on the edge of the mattress, then sits next to me, her hand resting on my knee. "When you told me how you felt at the warehouse, I should have said it then."
I can still feel my heart thundering in my chest. "Why didn't you?"
She's quiet for a long moment, her eyes focused on her hands. "Because I was scared," she admits finally. "After the way we started, after everything you put me through in the beginning, I was afraid to trust it. Afraid to trust you, or myself, or what I was feeling. I told myself that it was Tristan saying we needed to go, that I just wanted to wait for a better moment, but I was just thinking that I had time, that I could think about it a little longer."
I can’t stop looking at her, afraid she’ll disappear. "And now?"
She looks up at me then, and her hazel eyes are completely open, completely honest. "Now I know that what I feel for you is real. It's not Stockholm syndrome or gratitude or some misguided attempt to make the best of a bad situation. I love you, Caesar. I love your arrogance and your protectiveness, and the way you fight for what you want. I love how hard you’ve tried to show me that you regret the way we started, and I love how fierce you become when someone threatens what's yours."
She pauses, her hand tightening on my knee. "I love that you came for me when I needed you, even though it meant working with Tristan, even though it put you in danger. I love that you killed Matvey Slakov because he dared to touch me."
"Bridget—"
"I'm not finished." There's steel in her voice now, the same strength I fell in love with. "I also love that you were willing to let me go. That even after everything, you were prepared to honor our agreement and give me a divorce if that's what I wanted. I know you would have, even if you didn’t want to."
She reaches up to cup my face in her hands, her thumbs stroking over my cheekbones. "But I don't want a divorce, Caesar. I want to stay married to you. Not because I have to, not because of the baby, but because I choose you. I choose this life, this complicated, dangerous, beautiful life with you. And eventhough I’m still scared of it, and even though I know I’m never really going to fit in, I trust that you’ll keep us safe—and that you want me, even if I never quite fit into your world."
For a moment, I can't speak. The words I've been wanting to hear for months are finally here, but they're so much more than I dared to hope for. She doesn't just love me—she chooses me. She wants to build a life with me.
"Are you sure?" I ask, my voice rough with emotion. "Because once you choose this, once you choose me, there's no going back. I won't let you go again, Bridget. I can't."
"I don't want to go back," she says firmly. "I want to go forward. With you."
I can’t keep myself from touching her for another moment. I press my palm to her cheek, my mouth crashing against hers as I kiss her hard, pouring everything I feel into it. Relief and love and desperate gratitude that she's here, that she's mine, that she wants to be mine.
She responds immediately, her arms winding around my neck as she deepens the kiss. Her lips are soft and warm, and she tastes like everything I've ever wanted.
"I love you," I murmur against her mouth. "God, Bridget, I love you so much."
"Show me," she whispers back, and there's heat in her voice that goes straight to my groin.
"I'm injured," I remind her, though my body is already responding to her nearness, to the promise in her eyes. Whatever blood is left in my body is entirely in my cock.
"Dr. Ackley cleared me for all activities," she murmurs with a wicked smile. "And Dr. Ackley said no strenuous activity for you. She didn't say anything about letting me do all the work."
The suggestion in her voice makes my blood run hot. "Bridget..."
"Unless you don't want to," she says, suddenly uncertain. "If you're too tired or in too much pain?—"
I silence her with another kiss, harder this time, more demanding. When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"I always want you," I tell her honestly. "Injured or not, I will always want you."
She smiles and starts working on the buttons of my shirt, careful around the bandages on my shoulder. "Good," she says, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. "Because I have a lot of lost time to make up for."
I let her undress me carefully, her hands grazing over my skin, fingers tracing the muscles of my abdomen as I lie back on the bed and watch her. She shrugs her dress off, tossing it aside and leaning over me in only the white silk bra and panties she was wearing beneath it. I hadn’t thought it was possible for me to get harder, but my cock throbs, and I groan.
