Sweetest Taboo (SIN 3)

I can forgive you because I love you, and you deserve a second chance.

But I will only bend so far before I break.

I know you don't really love her--how could you when I am the one who fills your heart? Who belongs at your side?

But maybe you do care for her. She's your sister. She's family. And you two shared a traumatic past.

You see? I understand and forgive. To a point.

So if you care for her, leave her.

Because the next time I meet her on the street, I'll truly end this. I have to, my love. How else can I protect what is mine?

I read the words once, twice. I know that Dallas will do everything he can to protect me. I know that Liam and Quince and the rest of the Deliverance guys are doing everything they can to find my attacker.

But I also know that she's whacked. That she truly thinks that Dallas is hers.

And that she has just flat-out sworn to kill whoever stands between them.

"Whoever," of course, is me.

"That. Fucking. Bitch." Dallas's voice is cold and hard and even. If I weren't already scared by the damn text, his tone alone would have terrified me. "Track it," he says to Liam. "Find her."

And then he hangs up. Just ends the call. He tosses the phone across the bed. It slides off, and lands with a thud on the carpeting. As far as I can tell, he doesn't even notice.

Slowly, he stands. Paces. He's like a caged cat, and it's only when I realize that I've slid backward in the bed and have pulled my knees up to my chest and am holding the sheet under my chin that I realize just how on the edge I am from watching him. Not a cat, I think wildly. A spring, wound tight.

And even as that metaphor enters my head, the explosion I'd been anticipating comes. He topples the armchair in the corner. He sweeps his arm over the dresser, sending small boxes flying. He puts his fist through the drywall beside the closet door.

But when he heads into the bathroom, I race after him, terrified that he'll punch the mirror and slice himself to ribbons.

"Dallas, don't!"

I catch him right on the threshold, and he whips around to look at me. In the same motion, he grabs my shoulders and slams me back against the wall. For an instant, I see the wild fury in his eyes. Not at me, but at the world.

And then I can't see his eyes at all, because he's too close, his mouth hot on mine. He breaks the kiss just long enough to yank my arms above my head, then holds them there, his hand cupping my wrists even as his mouth slams hard against mine.

He needs this--I know he does. And, dammit, so do I. The feel of him against me. The safe reality that it is Dallas touching me. Not fear. Not the world. And definitely not the Woman.

I want what he is taking, this demanding, heated longing. This passionate assault.

And yet despite my desperation, I can't handle it. I'm too sore, my body still too battered, and though I try to hold it back, I whimper as my abraded shoulder sings with pain, and he immediately shuts down, his anger buried fast and completely by his concern for me.

It's such a simple thing, and yet it fills me with so much joy that I wrap my arms around him and kiss him tenderly.

When we break the kiss, he looks at me softly, his hands stroking my hair. "You're mine, Jane. Don't ever leave me again."

There's a h

ardness in his words, but I know it's not meant for me. This isn't really about me walking away. It's his challenge to a fucked-up universe. It's his threat to the Woman. It's his way of telling me and the world that he can't bear to lose me again.

And though I understand all of that, the answer that comes to my lips is simple and personal. I look into his eyes and say softly, "Don't ever lie to me again."

He steps back, his hands dropping to his sides. "You're still angry."

"No. Maybe a little." I frown, because I'm honestly not sure. "Does it matter?" I ask. "The bottom line is, I love you."

"Say that again."