TWENTY-SIX
I can’t possibly fathom the kind of suffering Kayden had to go through to be here today, to lose his entire family and then to feel like he was responsible for their deaths. I’m surprised anyone could still possess such kindness and humanity in them with that kind of harrowing past. I wonder how he finds the courage to keep going and not lose himself in the void.
Perhaps sometimes he does lose himself. Whenever his eyes take on a faraway light, plunging deep into thought and the memories of his trauma, or when he’s swarmed with self-loathing and hurt. In those moments he slips further and further away from me, and I’m left just praying and hoping that he’ll eventually drift back to shore.
I hope one day he’ll be brave enough to trust me to help him carry the burden.
At some point during the early hours of the morning Kayden let me peel him off the couch and lead him back to his bed. As we lie together, he loops an arm around me to bring me close to his body and pulls the blanket up so we’re nestled in our own warmth. He smiles down at me through his dried-up tears—a faint wounded, yet hopeful, smile—and relief overflows in my chest knowing that he has found emotional release in sharing his story with me.
“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” Kayden says, his voice coming out hoarse. He strokes my hair with his hand gently. “I don’t like to talk about it. It brings to the surface a lot of emotions that I don’t usually like to feel.”
“I get it. There was some heavy stuff.” One of my hands drifts across his abdomen. I tilt my head up, lips pulling into a frown. “And. . . I’m sorry too . I shouldn’t have been so hard on you before. You didn’t deserve it.”
His mouth thins, like he doesn’t quite believe me. “You don’t think I’m a terrible person?”
I hoist myself up, pushing onto my elbows so I can properly look at him. “What? No, of course not,” I tell him reassuringly. “I’ve known it from the start that you’re a good person, and I still believe that you are. And as much as you’ve convinced yourself that you’re to blame for all that happened to your parents and your sister, it’s not true. Not to me. Or Brent. Or Evans. I’m sure of it. You can stop blaming yourself for their deaths.”
“I’ll try, but it’s a feeling I’ve been accustomed to for so long now. It’s hard to will myself to stop feeling like that . . . but I’ll try.” His mouth puckers into a frown. “You know, there’s still time to leave in case you change your mind. I won’t stop you.”
“I’m not leaving and I meant it. And you know I don’t change my mind about anything,” I say urgently, mushing his face between my hands. He stares back at me, wide eyed.
“I’m all in, Kayden. So if I let go of you right now, will you stop telling me to leave?”
Slowly, he nods.
I release my hold on him, and he immediately tackles me into a fearless, sweeping kiss. A laugh escapes me as I snake my arms around him, my eyes fluttering closed as he drags his lips from my mouth to my jaw, then all the way down my neck.
He pauses at the place above my collarbone, brushing away the hair sticking to my skin, and a smirk snaps onto his face.
“You have a hickey,” Kayden notes.
“Yeah, I do.” Heat diffuses into my cheeks. “From paint ball.”
His fingers dance lightly over the spot where they hickey is, as he stares at it with utter fascination.
“I’ve never given anyone a hickey before,” he admits.
“I hope I’ll be the only one you’ll be giving hickeys to.” I poke his chest, the possessiveness rousing in me.
He chuckles, a deep rumble from his throat. I love it when he laughs. It’s the most delightful sound in the world.
“Oh, Lucky. I plan on giving you much more than just hickeys,” he murmurs seductively, and I groan, my mind already wandering with the possibilities of his statement.
I wonder what he plans to give me. Orgasms? Babies?
I hope he doesn’t mean the latter. I’m all for option one, though.
Kayden ducks his head again and presses a lingering kiss over the hickey, then brings his lips lower and lower until he’s at the curve of my breasts. I’m panting beneath him, my hands digging into his hair, silently begging for him to travel farther down.
He helps me out of my shirt and I oblige him willingly, lifting my arms to let him discard the fabric. He sweeps a thumb over his bottom lip, lustful eyes tracing the length of my body, and I whimper from the ravenous sound that leaves him, like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen in his whole damn life.
“Take off your shirt,” I say, giving a tug on the edge of Kayden’s shirt.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He does a mocking bow at me before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it off in one skillful sweep of his hand, arm muscles coiling with the movement. Holy shit, that wassexy as fuck. In his reveal, he displays his familiar set of broad shoulders that frame his huge chest and a perfect set of abs that I can’t seem to stop staring at.
I stare up at him. “Kiss me.”