Fuck the tears. It no longer mattered.
“Why can’t you just love me?”
*
It happened. She broke him.
He always imagined it would be his sister. Both Jessica and Jillian had tried over the years. Somehow he knew his sister’s strength would allow her to persevere.
Not Ryn. She wore a brave face over the hollow shell of a woman she used to be. Jackson never knew that woman, but he saw glimpses of her. It made him want to end Preston Iverson’s life for beating it out of her. It made him want to shake some sense into Maddie for not seeing the amazing woman before her.
“So that’s it? You don’t have anything to say?” She sucked in her quivering lips, tipping her chin to her chest. “It would hurt less if you hit me.” Her words were nothing more than a soft murmur to herself, but Jackson heard every single one.
He turned, letting the storm door close between them as he set his beer on the table. When he walked back toward the door, the woman who owned him had made it halfway to her car, head down, sobs racking her body.
He was a jerk. He didn’t deserve her. And if he could live without her, he’d let her get in her car and hate him forever. If he could live without her. But he couldn’t.
“You’re going to regret loving me.”
She jumped, gasping for a breath, as he scooped her up in his arms and hauled her inside the house.
“But that’s just too fucking bad.” He deposited her on Jillian’s bed, smashing his mouth to hers before she could protest or speak any words for that matter.
There were so many things left to say, but he needed her physically before he could even think of articulating the vulnerable, emasculating emotions in his mind. Her fingers curled into his arms and he felt them gripping his soul. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, he moaned like a wounded animal.
They became a tangle of limbs, ripping off clothes. He peeled away from her body. Standing to remove his jeans, he left her breathless on the bed. Her tongue eased out to wet her lips while her fingers traced the C-section scar before resting a hand over it. He’d seen it many times before. Her insecurities saddened him.
“Don’t,” he whispered, kneeling between her legs.
Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he pushed her hand away from the scar. She swallowed hard. It broke him a little more.
“I love you.”
Ryn closed her eyes. A lone tear trailed down to her ear.
“I love your imperfections. I need them. They give me hope that you will love mine too.”
Could she love him if she really knew him? He prayed to God she could.
Ryn opened her eyes. Sitting up, she shifted to her knees, facing him. He clenched his teeth, afraid to breathe, as she pressed her palms to his face. Her gentle touch dominated his strength. Ryn’s ineffable beauty stripped him raw, leaving him a slave to her mercy. In that moment only one truth existed: he would protect her with his life, and she would make him human again.
“There’s nothing about you I couldn’t love … if you’d just let me,” she whispered.
He kissed her, palming her breasts until she moaned, opening her mouth wider to him. The slide of her hand from his face to his chest ended wrapped around his cock, annihilating his last bit of control.
“God, Ryn …” He thrust into her touch, biting and sucking at her lips. “I’m so fucking sorry … this isn’t going to be gentle.”
She answered by curling her fingers into his hair, yanking hard while plunging her tongue into his mouth. Jackson slipped his hands behind her legs and lifted her up. When she wrapped her legs around him, he pushed inside her, swallowing each other’s groans.
He fucked her. He loved her. He drowned in the sensation of being lost inside her. And when Jackson Knight emerged … he was one. His duality vanished under her touch. Jackson loved Ryn to the depths of eternity, and so did Jude Day.
Chapter Seven
“Why are we in Jillian’s room?” Ryn lifted the sheet, peeking down at Jackson, who seemed content sprawled out on his stomach between her legs, head resting on her stomach. She combed her fingers through his hair in a lazy rhythm. The look on his face led her to believe he could start purring.
“My ex-cleaning lady went berserk.”
She stopped her hands, fisting his hair. “Ex?”
He chuckled. “Yes. I feel her attention to detail isn’t what it used to be.”
Her smile faded, washed away by the memory of his parting words. “Can you be honest with me?”
His answer took its time. It bothered her that he needed to consider his ability to be honest with her.
“Yes,” he said, turning his head until his lips pressed to her C-section scar.