Page 104 of Jensen
“Della,” he says, voice low.
I take a drink, even though it’s not my turn. “What?”
“Tell me the truth.” His head is cocked, pale eyes boring into me.
I sniff, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. “It was a stupid mistake,” I say, waving a hand. “We’d been sleeping together for a few months, he’d always used protection. That night, I thought he was wearing a condom, but he wasn’t, and he thought I thought that was fine. We got our wires crossed, and I ended up pregnant.”
I wipe my cheek, quickly so he doesn’t see.
“Della,” he says again.
I look up. His face is raw, just all naked in the darkness.
“If you could swing at him right now, would you?” he says.
My mind goes back to that night, just weeks after Leland and I met. The confusion, the sinking sensation in my stomach like I was being pulled into an undertow. The tingling shock that kept me from speaking the racing thoughts in my head. The denial, the grief, the slow erosion of anger I never allowed myself to feel.
And yet, with Jensen, right here, I think I can.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Would you?”
His lids flicker. “I don’t know,” he says. “But what happened to me is different.”
I shift closer until I’m in his lap. He takes the bourbon and has a drink. His arm slides around my waist, pulling me close. Our breath mingles, sharp with liquor.
“Let me hit him for you,” he breathes.
I hear it in the distance.
A shattering.
The ending of one part of my life and the beginning of another.
I fall in love with him, all at once. My arms slide around his neck and our mouths meet. Hunger courses through my veins, drowning out all the pain. Distantly, I hear him set the bottle aside. Then, he’slifting me to the pillow and laying me down. Eagerly, I spread my thighs, and he puts his body down between them.
I shouldn’t love him.
We barely know each other.
And yet, I have never known anyone as visceral and beautiful as Jensen Childress. He’s complicated, damaged, and so damn stubborn. But from the moment I laid eyes on him, I’ve become more myself than I’ve ever been. I don’t have to try to speak my mind. It just tumbles out. I never think about making myself different for him. We just fit together, like two broken pieces of one whole.
But more than that, he’s offering me a choice, something Leland never gave me.
Revenge.
Or walking away.
I pull back, his taste on my lips. “I just want Landis,” I whisper. “Then, I never want to see Leland again.”
He doesn’t speak. I run my hand over his warm, bare chest. His body feels so good, strong and firm. The corner of his mouth turns up, and he bends down to kiss me briefly.
“What was that for?” I whisper.
“You’re a good woman, Della,” he says. “You’ve got a quick tongue but a good heart. Better than he ever deserved.”
His compliment makes my cheeks heat. “You seem to like my tongue fine when it’s in your mouth,” I say.
He kisses me again. God, he makes my toes curl. He pulls back. I lay my hands on his warm sides and run them over his skin. One hand skims the raised cross. I trace it softly with my middle finger. Slowly, his cock hardens against my lower belly. His eyelids flicker, like it’s pleasurable and a little painful all at once.
