If both entered the room after hearing me cry, their reactions would be very different. Nick would ask what was wrong, he would try to console me and find the reason behind my tears.
Thomas would let me feed off his strength. He would pull me to his side, wrap his hands around me and wait until I calmed down.
“I’m okay.” I offered Ty a small smile.
He lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, then turned around, put the lights out and retreated to his bedroom across the hall.
Adrian looked into my eyes, the despair in his clearer than the sky above an ocean. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I knew he could hurt me. It wouldn’t take much for his resolve to snap, but the torment in his dark eyes had me believing that the worst was over.
It had to be over. He had to get better, or else I lost Thomas in vain.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. “I know you’re scared that I’ll start using again, but I’d rather die than do anything to jeopardise the little trust you put in me. I won’t fuck this up, puppet. I swear.”
We avoided the subject like the plague. It wasn’t a reasonable way to go about his addiction, but neither of us wanted to open the wounds. We were ashamed and scared and chose to omit the reason why I ran away in the first place.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe you could stay clean.”
He drew me to his chest, buried his face in my hair, and exhaled, relieved to have me close.
“I love you so much, puppet.”
The scent of his body reminded me of the times we spent together. The nights and days; love and hate; fights, bruises, pain; and the calmness, passion, and admiration. It was a dangerous mixture. Adrian was like all four elements put together. He was powerful and cruel, but when we were good, he adored me and made sure to show me how much he cared.
Now, he was adoring me again, and I hoped it would stay that way until he could be well enough to understand that my place was no longer by his side.
He inched away and pressed his lips to mine for the first time in months. It was just a peck, short and delicate as if I were a bubble, and he was afraid to crush me, but the simple peck brought back the memories of all kisses we shared. A sense of familiarity washed over me, blurring the negatives and amplifying the positives.
“You’re my everything,” he whispered. “I’ll prove to you how much I changed. I don’t know how, but I will. Losing you was my wake-up call, puppet. I havenothingwithout you.”
His every move, tone of his voice and the words alone were designed to strip off my armour. Brick by brick, he took the walls apart.
“I would rather open a vein right here, right now than hurt you. I just need a chance to win you back. One shot, puppet. The last one.”
He pressed his lips against mine again, slowly, giving me time to react, retreat or push him away, but the softness of his lips worked like a magnet. I kissed him back, even though it was for all the wrong reasons.
In his hands, I was truly a puppet. He knew which string to pull to get the reaction he desired. He moved, and I moved with him.
As long as he touched me and as long as I felt his longing and love, I gave in, not trying to snap out of the hypnotic state.
But it wasn’t Adrian who I wanted to have close. It wasn’t Adrian who I wanted to kiss. It wasn’t Adrian who I craved and missed.
It was Thomas, but it wasn’t Thomas’s face my fingers caressed. It wasn’t his lips which mine rediscovered in a cautious rhythm. Those were Adrian’s lips, Adrian’s face, and Adrian’s body pushing me back onto the pillow.
His kisses dripped with admiration, sorrow, and determination. Every stroke of his fingers on my skin was loaded with caution and wonder, as if he couldn’t quite believe I was there with him.
I wasn’t there. Not entirely, anyway. My body was there, adjusting to the slow, comforting pace ofhisbody, but my mind was back in London, back in the queen-sized bed, under the black, satin sheets, my cheek pressed into Thomas’s chest, his heart racing.
I turned my head to the side, breaking the kiss, then looked into black eyes, which watched me with love. Adrian rested on his elbows, his body on mine, his face inches away. I blinked once, then again, and once more, but the eyes were still black, despite me willing to give up everything for them to turn cinnamon.
Adrian moved his hand to my stomach. My eyes closed when his warm fingers pressed into my flesh, climbing higher, inch by inch. Desire radiated off him, but he tried not to rush and not to scare me away, even though he was beyond ready to pin me to the mattress and make up for six months of lost time.
“I love you,” he breathed into my mouth. His fingers reached my breast. “I’ll never let you go.”
My eyes popped open. My stomach sank.
I slid the shirt down his arms, ghosting my lips over his neck. “Take what’s yours,” I muttered in his ear.
One second I sat astride on him, and the next I laid on the white sheets, surrounded by rose petals, with Thomas’s lips kissing the inside of my thigh. I weaved my fingers through his hair and my mouth fell open, when he slid my panties down and stood to take off his trousers.