The Son & His Hope (The Ribbon Duet 3)

I flinched, looking at the flickering candles. What sort of answer could I give? I couldn’t lie to her and say things would change. That I wanted her to marry me, move to Bali, and bear my children.

Those things would never happen.

I knew that in the depths of my soul.

My voice softened with sorrow. “There’s no one else I’d rather love, Hope Jacinta Murphy, but out of anyone…you know me. You know I can’t…”

She swallowed back tears. “Can’t get close to me.”

I nodded. My eyes burned. My heart drowned in an ocean of misery. “I’m sorry.” I shifted to climb off her. My lust was a monstrous thing, but I’d deal with it on my own instead of forcing it on Hope. I’d hurt her enough. “Just…forget it.”

I’d let myself give in for just a moment. I’d been brave enough just for a second.

And she didn’t want me.

She wasn’t prepared to share my pain.

It’s for the best.

Her hands caught my shoulders, her stare far too intense. “Why do you want to do this?”

I struggled to find an answer that wouldn’t promise things I couldn’t promise and words that wouldn’t hurt. Finally, I settled on the simplest. “’Cause when I’m with you, I forget about loneliness.”

Her gaze danced over mine, swift and serious, reading whatever secrets I couldn’t hide. “Do you accept that I love you? That this won’t be fucking to me. This will be so much more.”

I stiffened. The price was far too high. The offer far too tempting.

She loves me.

Yet…I can’t love her.

What sort of bastard did that make me to steal her heart, all because I wanted her body?

I wedged my forehead on hers, searching for the strength to stop this. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

The weed in my system flickered and faltered, mixing my phobias with desires. “You’re my only friend, Hope.”

I winced.

I hadn’t meant to say that but the aching defencelessness of my voice made her arms loop around my shoulders and pull me into her. “I said something similar to you, once upon a time.”

“Friends can fight.” I studied her mouth.

“Friends can also make up.” She licked her lips.

“Friends can sometimes be more…for a night,” I whispered, shivering as she opened her legs.

Time stood still for a moment.

The rain stopped falling for a second.

And slowly, Hope nodded.

She granted damnation and salvation.

She gave me something I should never have asked for, successfully ruining me forever.

Her hand cupped my cheek, her body welcomed mine, she brought my head down and kissed me. “Okay, Jacob. Okay…”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Jacob

* * * * * *

TWO THINGS I learned the moment I gave in to Hope and she gave in to me.

One, it hurt when I touched her. The pain reached into my gut, tore out my innards, and fractured my heart with how perfect she felt, how sweet, how soft, how sexy.

But it was nothing, nothing compared to the pain when she touched me. Her caresses were excruciating. Her kisses agony. Her hugs annihilating.

I wanted to sleep with her.

I’d wanted it for years.

I’d fought with her to agree, but now that she had…I didn’t know if I had the strength to go through with it.

The pain.

Fuck, the pain.

The battle between keeping my heart out of the physical and the overwhelming desire to fall head over heels for her. To say screw you to a dismal future—the future where she’d grow old and die, or get sick and die, or one day just hate me and leave.

Those futures were unacceptable, and each kiss and stroke taunted me to tread that path. To believe it wouldn’t happen. To blindly accept I’d somehow found an immortal goddess who would never perish.

That I would be the one who died first.

The one who left.

The one who hurt her just like my father had hurt my mother.

She loves me.

I was already killing her slowly. The only difference between us was she was strong enough to endure such a thing…and I was not.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the noise. I wanted another hit on my pipe to focus on one thing and one thing only.

But Hope was my new drug, and her kisses were pure addiction.

She made me come alive.

She coaxed dormant parts of me to roar awake, all while encouraging timid things to claim. Dirty thoughts blended with scared thoughts, and I trembled as I collapsed on top of her, pressing my hips deeper into hers.

Her breath hitched as I kissed her hard—harder than I ever had before. Her damp hair curled over my pillow, and the bed creaked as she wriggled closer.

She was the only one to ever get this close to me. The only one I could stomach touching me, kissing me…

She would be my first.

But was I hers?

The acidic question laced our kiss. Had she found love with another? Had she been with many men? Why did that make fury unfurl and possession turn me sick with loathing?