Rock Redemption (Rock Revenge Trilogy 3)

She thought I was so eager to submit? Perhaps the old Ian had been, once time had worn me down. Now? I’d fight dirty if it meant one more hour with her.

Inside her.

Hell, one more minute would be a gift. And I might be ashamed later I’d resorted to such tactics, but I wouldn’t regret it.

If this was all there would ever be of us, I intended to make it count.

Thirteen

One last time?

I wasn’t sure I could bear it. Part of me wanted to scream at him to leave. To just get away from me before I could let any other part of him seep into me. Moral support was the fucking suck, but I’d done it. I couldn’t walk away from him while we’d been in the muck and mire of it.

While everyone had stared at him like he was a pariah.

Mama bear tendencies I didn’t even know existed inside of me had come roaring out. So I knew the love was still there. But right now, love wasn’t enough for any of us.

Loving Ian would never be easy. I’d known that from the very start.

I also couldn’t be his entire heart, soul, and support.

Watching him sway in front of me, the pain coming out of his pores like the vodka he was medicating with… That couldn’t be on me for the rest of our lives. Nothing about him would ever heal and be a better person if I enabled him.

And it fucking sucked to be the bigger person.

I didn’t want to.

I wanted the Ian back who sang on the beach. The Ian who let me paint his nails. The one who made me itch for my camera and my paints. The Ian who sang on stage with such all-encompassing joy. Those were all parts of him—buried ones.

But I knew they were in there.

They just weren’t enough.

I stepped in front of him, lifting my hand to his perfect face.

Maybe to some he was too angular through the jaw and nose. Maybe his eyes were too wild and that matched his curls that couldn’t be contained. Maybe the emotions he released were too much for this world to handle.

Or even worse, for him to handle.

For me to handle.

I stepped into him, dragging his mouth to mine. He tasted of vodka and remorse. Of guilt and shame. I needed to push that all aside for just a moment. One last good moment that I could hold close in the dark corners when I was too weak to put him in a box where he belonged.

He hoisted me up into his arms and I wrapped my legs around his lean waist. His arms crushed me close and my breasts smushed against his hard ch

est, my thighs quaking with the strength needed to hold myself above him.

I pushed the curls out of his face and kissed him again.

I couldn’t let the kiss be sweet.

I’d never survive this if I didn’t tap into the one thing I could handle. The fire. Walking into the burn might not be smart, but maybe afterward, I’d be clean. I could walk out of the ashes of us and start over.

I tangled my fingers into his curls and twisted until the blade of pain flickered in his eyes. I knew he wanted sweetness. My Ian was a romantic under all the bluster and swagger. Well, he wouldn’t be getting that from me tonight.

If he wanted this, it would be on my terms.

“Ah, Magic.”