A Debt Repaid (The Debt Duet 2)

Is this who he truly is? The man underneath the monster’s mask, who could be kind and sweet if he wanted to?

I lick my lips and sigh as he massages my shoulders and temples, and then washes my hair too. It’s so strange to sit here with him. As if it’s the most normal thing in the world, and we do this every day. But he’s never made me feel this comfortable.

Is the punishment finally over? Is he content with all the ways I’ve suffered for him?

“Why are you doing this?” I ask.

He rinses off the soap. “I can’t bathe with my wife?”

“I never … You can, but—”

“You’re trying to make sense of something that can’t be understood,” he responds.

“Yeah.” Why is it so easy for him to read my mind? “I thought you wanted to …?”

“What? Fuck?”

I gaze at my own feet underwater and his that are right beside mine. They are much bigger and sturdier, like his hands. And his thighs, they’re huge, as is his stature. And for some reason, being in this tub with him like this is the first time I actually feel safe in this room.

I grab a strand of my hair and tuck it behind my ears. “You told me you were waiting for me to say the words.”

He stops washing me and brushes aside my wet hair so he can lean in close. “It’s not the words I’m looking for,” he whispers, and he presses a kiss onto my shoulders so soft it makes me feel like a wax candle melting away. “I’m waiting for you.”

Me. It’s always been about me.

All this time, I thought I was dancing to his tune. Fighting him at every turn and waiting for him to take what he came for. But it wasn’t about that at all.

It’s my heart.

My love.

My choice.

That’s what we’ve been fighting over all this time. The pulling and tugging weren’t solely about my body but to win over my soul. To make me fall.

And I am falling … so fucking hard.

The kisses he plants, one after the other, undo me and strip me of every defense I ever put up. An uncontrollable ache in my body commands me to yield, and while my hands float in the water, I close my eyes and hum to the tune of loving defeat.

I want his lips. I want his touch. I want him to take me.

Even if he is the bad guy.

The one who stole me away from my old, habitual life and immersed me into a world filled with sexual deviance and power. A world I crave to explore.

All this time, I was wishing and praying I wouldn’t fall for the devil, but I should’ve known the devil has his ways and always wins. And now he’s won me over.

“I want you. I’ve always wanted you …” he says, pressing a kiss to my neck as my head tilts sideways. “From the day I saw you at your father’s wedding until the day you finally said yes at the altar.”

“But I hated you,” I murmur, my body instinctively leaning into his as his lips land on my skin. I’m halfway turned in the tub, crawling up against him, his rock-hard abs candy to my eyes. Droplets of water roll down his chiseled face along his beautiful dark lashes, his pronounced cheekbones, and his delicious lips. My eyes can’t stop taking him in.

“You hated the idea of me. The power I have and how I use it to ruin everything around me.” He cups my face and forces me to look at him. “To get my hands on you.”

My lips part, but I don’t know what to say. Even when I offered myself to him, he still didn’t take me. And now here we are, face to face, in the most exposed situation with all our feelings laid bare. All this time, I thought I was the one who lost. Who was locked away and imprisoned by the beast.

But I’m not the only one who suffered. He sacrificed his sanity, his morals, and his dignity to be with me. And even though that should make me loathe him, I don’t anymore.

Because I feel for him. I feel for the man who could’ve been everything we both wanted if the circumstances had been different. If we’d met in a different place and time, maybe we could’ve been together without all the grief and pain. Without wanting to hurt each other.

“You want me, but do you really know you do?” I mutter.

“More than anything. I would sacrifice my business for you if I had to,” he says, clutching me, our lips grazing. “I’d fucking sacrifice my life to be close to you.”

“Then kiss me,” I murmur.

He kisses me so fucking hard that the tub suddenly feels as though it’s filled with scalding water. My heart pounds in my throat as his mouth claims mine. His kiss is mind-numbing, soothing the turmoil in my heart. His tongue darts out to expertly pry my lips open and toy with my tongue, leaving my body needy with more. He licks the roof of my mouth and grabs a fistful of my hair to pull me closer. I’m fucked by his tongue, and I love every second of it. This small moment in time of bliss is where I find my acceptance with my own wantonness and the arousal settling between my legs.