A Cut so Deep (Thornes & Roses 1)

“You taste good in the morning,” I whisper. Large, golden eyes lock on mine. She holds my stare, the confidence in her expression making me smile. When she’s fire, she burns me from the inside out, and I willingly accept it.

“I never expected to feel this,” Nesrin says, her voice low, barely even a whisper. The redness on her cheeks blooms like a rose in spring. She’s striking. Even sleepy, post-orgasm, she’s more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever had the pleasure of waking up beside or falling asleep next to.

“Trust me, wild rose,” I tell her. “Neither did I.” I clean my fingers, lapping the remnants of her from both digits before I roll out of bed and pull on the boxer briefs that found their way to the carpet last night. “We need to talk.”

Her mouth opens, then closes. She knows what I want to say. A slow nod is all she offers. I feel guilty for spouting shit that hurt her, and I’m not someone who allows my emotions to take hold of me, until last night, until her.

“You hurting yourself is wrong. I know it’s something you needed in the past, but…” I settle on the bed beside her and, facing her, I take her hand in mine. “If you ever feel the need to do that, to pick up a blade, come to me.” There’s a plea that hangs on every syllable I utter, and I hope she sees it as so much more than me wanting to control her. It’s about me feeling something.

“I was so hurt, so angry.” Her eyes are shimmering, and I want to wipe away her pain.

Nodding, I say, “I get that. But never again. You come to me. Promise me that.” The urgency in my voice is evidence that this girl is slowly undoing me. And I can’t fight it anymore. She’s young, but I no longer give a fuck. She’s legal, eighteen, and nothing is going to stop me from having her for myself.

A small smile lights up her face, and she nods. “I promise, Damien.” I give her a quick kiss before standing. Her eyes are crotch level with me, and they widen.

“Don’t you… I mean…” Her words are stilted, nervous energy emanates from her, and I know she’s trying to question my morning wood. It’s cute that she’s so brazen when she’s turned on, but just talking about sex makes her a flustering goddess.

“We need to practice today. Dance, dance, dance,” I tell her. “Perhaps later we’ll play again, and then I’ll make you scream my name over and over again,” I promise her with a grin, expecting her to refuse, but she smiles and nods.

“Sounds like a plan.” I would love to take her now, but I’m prolonging it for as long as possible. Not because I don’t want her, but because all I can think of is feeling her pulse around me.

“Get dressed and meet me downstairs,” I tell her, as I make my way to the door. I’m about to pull it open when I feel her hands on my skin. Her touch warming my back.

“You’re not really the kiss and cuddle type,” she muses from behind me. “But I’d like a kiss, please?” Her confidence is an aphrodisiac. If I wasn’t hard before, I’m certainly solid steel now.

I turn to regard her, my hands cup her face, and I gently press my lips to hers. It’s not desire-fueled, merely affectionate. And when I pull away, I see her smile.

“Happy now?”

“Yes,” she tells me with a grin brightening her expression. “You should learn to do that more often. I like it.”

“Who put you in charge? Remember, Sweetheart, I’m older, I’m wiser, and I’m far more in control.” My voice dips lower. “Unless you’d like another punishment?” Her cheeks turn bright red at the reminder, and I nod with a grin. “See you downstairs.”

Back in my bedroom, I shut myself in and breathe. Not once in my life have I felt so connected to another being. Yes, my brothers are my family; they’re blood, but she’s a girl who’s come into my life by some strange feat, and she’s broken down walls I had so carefully constructed over the years.

I don’t know what Cass and Finn are going to make of this. Granted, my brothers have both noticed my possessiveness for her. So, it may only be me that’s been trying to act as if Nesrin isn’t mine. That she isn’t burrowed in my heart, in my soul. Everything about her is woven into the fabric of who I am.

In the bathroom, I turn on the shower and step under the spray, before it has time to heat. My focus needs to be on the dance; in two days, we’ll be attending the ball. I’m still hard as the warm spray attacks my shoulders, and I can’t stop myself from fisting my erection, stroking slowly, as my other hand is flat against the cool tiles of the shower. My body shakes, trembling with need, as I close my eyes and picture her beautiful body.