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“Okay, it’s okay,” he says in such a calming tone, like he’s trying to calm me down more than anything. He concedes, “I’ll watch it.”

“I don’t know that you can see anything, but you can hear it and you saw them.” I explain, feeling light-headed and unsure. I did record it.Didn’t I?I have to look down at my phone, which is still recording. I press end and watch the wheel spin until it’s done. It’s there. It’s right there. “I can prove I didn’t say anything,” I say and hold it up for him, my heart still racing.

“I believe you, Braelynn,” Declan tells me with such sincerity and I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear him say it.

He believes me. “I know you wouldn’t say anything,” he adds. As I stare up at him, full of mixed emotion I can barely contain, he leans down and kisses me. My lips mold to his and my body relaxes instantly. Every inch of me giving into him, feeling safe with him, feeling comforted by his touch. He pulls away far too soon and when he does, he tells me again, “I believe you.”

I hold his hand, the one cupping my chin and I don’t want to let go of him.

“That’s all I needed.”

“Let’s check with the doctor and see if I can take you home.”

“Yes. Please,” I tell him and stop myself short of saying I want to go home. I nearly say it, but I don’t want him to think I mean my home. I need to go back with him. Right now, I can’t be alone and all I want is to be right next to Declan Cross.

DECLAN

“Better?” I question and then kiss her inner thigh. Her legs tremble around my shoulders as I prop myself up, the taste of her cunt still on my tongue. I love how she shivers with the lingering effects of her orgasm.

“Yes, Declan,” she murmurs, her dark eyes half-lidded with the potent mixture of lust and satisfaction stirring down her body. Her body arches as I toy with her, bringing the tips of my fingers up and down her slit before bending down to suck her clit again. If for no other reason than to hear that low feminine moan and to feel her fingers splaying in my hair, her nails gently scratching my scalp.

I’ve already fucked her and gotten her off four times. She’s sensitized and maybe it’s not fair to play with my fuck toy when she’s sated beyond reason. When she can barely lift her head.

But it’s been three days of her recovering and yesterday was the first she left this room since I took her to see the doctor. She’s mostly slept, and I’ve either watched her or slept with her … although it’s proven difficult. It’s been years since I’ve taken Sweets to force myself to sleep. We’ve taken it both nights and I don’t think we’ll need it tonight. If we do, if she lies awake, tossing and turning with all of those thoughts refusing to bequiet and leave her alone, I’ll do what I did the last two nights. I’ll kiss her with the drops on my tongue, I’ll fuck her into the mattress until she’s screaming my name and then I’ll sleep beside her, my arm around her waist, her back to my front.

She’ll have peaceful, restful, dreamless sleep. Unlike me, she hasn’t had a single dream.

I sleep for hours and hours, unable to wake, but reliving nightmares, killing anyone and everyone who tries to touch her. Hooded men, all in black and outnumbering me try to take her from me. Claiming it’s necessary, claiming she shouldn’t be here. It’s a bloodbath in my terrors, but it’s heaven to wake up to Braelynn, safe and warm in my bed, kissable, fuckable, and all mine. I wake up with my heart racing and a cold sweat lining every inch of my skin. She’s in my arms, though, peacefully sleeping, unaware. As she should be.

That’s partly why I’ve stayed with her, hardly leaving my room. This past week fucked her up, I know it did. It fucked me up too. The difference is I deserved it.

I want nothing more than for my cock to be hard again and buried inside of her, reminding her of just how fucking good I am to her.

Just as I’m about to slip three fingers into her, curve my fingers and strum her G-spot, my phone buzzes again on my nightstand.

Annoyance threatens to take over as I sit up enough to see that it’s Carter. Lying beside me, Braelynn’s dark pebbled nipples beg me to give them attention too as her hand rises up her body. Her hand gently passes her breasts and she lifts her head slightly, to push her hair back, away from her face. Her eyes closed, her movements slow and her legs clenching with the heated need for release.

I’ve oversensitized my sweet naïve girl. Rising up on my knees I make a move to reach for my phone, but Braelynn mistakes my effort for something far more enjoyable.

A low groan leaves me as her eyes open and she finds mine while turning to position herself so her lips can wrap around my hardening dick.

Gripping the nape of her neck, I keep her just shy of reaching her goal.

Fuck-me eyes peek up at me. “Not yet,” I tell her and then release her, opting to cover her with the covers. “Go run the bath for us,” I tell her before turning my attention to the phone.

Braelynn is slow and careful to move, but does as commanded, careful as she slips off the edge, a murmur of sweet pleasure leaving her.

I’ll bathe her, feed her, and then fuck her again.

Checking the messages on my phone, I’m resolute in my decision to not force her to come with me to the kitchen. Carter isn’t convinced and he’s not the only one.

It hasn’t escaped me that the terrors are likely because I know the whispers going around.That she’s a rat.The very thought that men who do my bidding could possibly think she’s the enemy stirs a heat inside of me that’s uncontainable. It’s a rage like I’ve never felt in my entire life. She didn’t fucking do it. I know it in my goddamn bones.

Efforts have been made to pin it on Hale. With my throat tight I read Nate’s messages that people are questioning if Hale set her up. Some sympathize with her. Nate and Carter have said they all need to sympathize with her, but I disagree. They all need to fear saying her fucking name at all. She doesn’t exist for them. She is only mine.

Gritting my teeth, I reread the prior messages from Carter and his prying questions.

I’d texted him yesterday:I told you. Something happened, but I don’t think she knows exactly what. I don’t think she has a clue.


Tags: W. Winters Romance