“Not until you properly apologize to me,” she finishes.
My brows lower, and I straighten, resting on my knees while I silently stare, waiting for her to explain what she means.
“You’ve been an unbearably raging asshole to me this entire time. Yes, I fucked up, but you’re, like… really fucking mean, and you’ve hurt my feelings more than I care to admit.”
I nod slowly. “You’re right.”
Feeling invigorated, she forges on, “If you want me to stay with you—choose you—then I want you to get on your knees and apologize for how you’ve been treating me,” she tells me, pointing to the floor for extra measure.
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, trapping the flesh and biting down hard. An insidious feeling is rising in my chest. It’s dark and wicked, and it makes me want to fucking smile. I want to grab her by the throat and unleash every one of my darkest desires onto her flesh—with my teeth, my hands, and my cock.
It’s also pride, desire, and the unbending need to give her everything she wants.
Because fuck, am I proud of her for making me beg for her forgiveness.
Sawyer deserves better than what I’ve done to her. We’re both broken in our own ways, and instead of seeing that and understanding her, I let my own hurt control me. And all it’s done is cause her pain.
I’m still withholding my own forgiveness for what she’s done—stealing someone’s entire life to do with as they please is not a tiny fuck-up. And there’s still a part of me that doesn’t trust her yet—that feels like I’m the same fool who took her behind the waterfall, only to be robbed of the most important thing to me. She could’ve gotten me into some serious trouble if she was careless enough with my identity, which ultimately could’ve fucked with my research and everything I’ve worked so fucking hard for.
So, while I’m not entirely ready to give her those things, it doesn’t change how I feel about her. It doesn’t change that she doesn’t deserve my wrath nor my cruelty.
I will always want to cause her pain, but I find no satisfaction in her misery. No, the only thing I want to see when I have her trapped between my teeth is that bright fucking smile.
Silently, I get off the bed and stand at my full height, towering a solid foot above her, her petite stature barely reaching my chest. Her eyes are wide, but the challenge in them is undeniable.
The tension between us crackles, little fireworks detonating around us as I come to a stop before her.
Her blonde curls are wild around her face, falling past her heaving chest. It reminds me of when a wave breaks and forms that perfect curl that surfers strive for. There are so many of them within the strands of her hair, and I want to dive between each one.
She’s vibrating from the energy as I slowly approach, but my little thief stands her ground, only tipping her chin up as I near.
When I’m within a foot of her, I drop to my knees, my blood heating when her lips part, an almost inaudible gasp slipping free.
“I’m sorry,bella,” I start, keeping my voice low and serious while I look up at her, ensnaring her gaze within my own. She stands tall before me, her spine straight and shoulders back. “I’ve been punishing you for something you didn’t do—something beyond stealing an identity. I’ve been making you hurt because I’m hurt, but you’re not the one who broke me. And it was never my right to break you.”
She studies me closely, picking apart every detail that makes up my face. My hair has grown, and my beard has thickened, but I wonder if she can see someone different beyond my appearance.
Can she see a man falling in love with a little thief? Can she see that I don’t want to but will submit to it anyway? Just as I’m submitting to her now.
“You’re not the one who broke me, either,” she whispers finally, settling back onto my eyes.
“No, but that didn’t stop me from trying.”
I reach out and grab her hand, enraptured by how tiny it is compared to my own. How delicate and soft she is on the outside, but on the inside, she’s a force to be reckoned with.
She’s so goddamn resilient.
She’s better than me—stronger than me.
I wanted to take all her broken pieces, and fucking shatter them—turn them into dust so she could never be whole again.
I realize now how foolish it was when I could take those pieces and give them a home amongst my own.
“Youaregood enough, Sawyer. You’re nothing like I said you were, and everything I said you weren’t. You’re strong and brave, and above all else, you’re admirable.”
Her eyes become glassy, and she looks away, blinking rapidly while crooking her finger beneath her eye. “Can you, like, not make me cry right now, please? I’m trying to look like a badass.”
The corner of my lip tips up. She makes me smile, too, but that’s something I’d rather show her than tell her.