Coming Home (The Surrender Trilogy 3)

over the past two weeks.

“Friends. Can we be friends?”

She sighed. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea either.”

Lucian looked up at her, his hands folded over his lap, white-knuckled as if he were forcing himself

not to reach for her. “How much longer do you expect me to go on like this, Evelyn? I’m not used to

this sort of opposition.”

Her anger surfaced. “I told you to move on.”

He shot to his feet. “And I heard you, but I refuse to believe that’s what you want. Not when you

spent over a thousand dollars to run into me at a benefit you know nothing about.”

“Last night was a mistake.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

She stepped back. “Lucian, I . . . You’re asking too much.”

He crowded her and she eased back, but didn’t take a step. His hand hovered at her jaw, yet he never

laid a finger on her. “What will it take?” he whispered. “What do I have to do in order to touch you

again? To have you back in my life and believe you’re mine? I hate this void between us.”

“You broke my trust,” she choked. “I don’t know if there’s any coming back from that.”

“It was a mistake. I realized it in a matter of hours. I broke my word and came for you, but I was

already too late.”

Her jaw locked. Everything she wanted was right in front of her for the taking, but there were valid

reasons to deny herself. Yet, she couldn’t help wondering if this torture of abstaining from him was

some twisted form of self-inflicted penance.

Her eyes closed and she breathed. He was so close, but not touching her at all. In barely a whisper,

she confessed, “He touched me, Lucian. I wanted to erase your mark and I let him kiss and hold me. I

didn’t know he saw me as a possession. He was my friend and I blame you for letting me go under

such a misconception.”

“I told you he was trouble. I told you he loved you.”

“And I thought you were jealous.”

“I am jealous! Think of how you felt when you thought Nicole and I were an item. How do you

think your situation with Hughes made me feel? She’s nothing to me, but he . . . he has pieces of you I never will. I know you, Evelyn, but he knows Scout. He knows what it was like to be there, on the

streets, to go hungry. He knows what you were like as a young girl. He has all these puzzle pieces and

I hate that he used that to his advantage.”

“I want to hate you both. I can hate him, but I can’t seem to hate you.” She was weakening. That hard shell of ice she tried to encrust her heart in was thawing, and he was working his way through the fragile cracks. “I trusted you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. You took care of my mom, Lucian.

Do you know what that did to me? What it does? She’s the only thing I’ve ever had in this life and I

was going to lose her. You saved her.”

Confessions spewed from her lips before she could draw them back. “That day that you found me, I

thought, ‘Oh my God, he’s my hero.’ And you were. But then I come to find out . . .”

Lucian gripped her shoulders. “It changes nothing. I still found you. Don’t you see? I would have

done anything to find you. Imagine what it did to me to have to agree to his terms, to let you go. I

made sure there was a loophole, but you weren’t ready for that. I’d do it all over again, Evelyn. It’d

kill me, but I would. I’d save you again and again, no matter the cost, because that’s how badly I need to know you’re safe.”

She opened her eyes and waited for the tears to clear. Blinking, she focused on him and recognized

the staunch determination in his face. He was telling the truth.

His thumbs swept along her jaw as he gently clasped her neck, scrutinizing her. His pleading gaze

was desperate. Her chest hurt. “Lucian . . .”

His head slowly lowered and he brushed his lips over hers. “I need you, Evelyn.” He stepped closer,

tilting her head back. “I need you more than the air I breathe.” His mouth kissed the corner of hers.

“Nothing is right when you’re absent. I own the whole damn city, but when you aren’t here, I can’t

find home.”

A tear slipped past her lashes and he caught it on his lips, kissing it away. Her hands gripped his

shirt. “You’re my home,” he breathed, turning her face to meet his kiss.

His lips slanted over hers and her lips parted. The press of his hand cupped the back of her head. “I

love you,” he rasped, lifting her into his arms.

Her legs wrapped around him as her face pressed into his throat. He carried her to the bedroom, the