Chapter 51

51

Edward

"Your poor back." She traces her fingers down the scars. I pull away, but she closes the distance to me, then kisses the puckered skin.

Goosebumps pop on my skin, despite the heat of the cascade I’m standing in.

She rubs her cheek against my back. The muscles of my shoulders turn to concrete. My heart thrashes against my ribcage. My stomach twists itself in knots, and I feel dizzy. I dig my palms into the wall, forcing myself to stay unmoving. She traces the blemishes all the way to the nape of my neck.

My cock lengthens, and my balls tighten. I came inside her again last night, and it was earth-shattering. Again. And when I pulled her body to mine, buried my nose in her hair and closed my eyes, I slept deeper and longer than any other night. The last time I slept this peacefully was before the incident. And when I woke up in the morning, I slipped my upright cock inside her and finished off in a few jerks…like a teenager. She moaned in her sleep, but I managed not to wake her. Then, I crawled out of bed. I decided to take a shower because, if I stayed in bed a second longer, I’d make love to her again, and I didn’t want to disturb her sleep. And it was 'making love.' I can’t kid myself any longer.

I switch off the shower, and in the silence that follows, I hear her sniffle. "Who did this to you?"

"I did."

"What?" She steps back and stares at my back in horror. "You hurt yourself?"

When I don’t reply, she pushes her wet hair back from her face. "Why would you do that?"

"To punish myself."

"Is this because you couldn’t have her? Is that why you did it?"

"I deserved it."

"No one deserves so much pain." She reaches out and, once more, traces one of the hardened trails of skin. "No one,” she leans in, but before she can replace her fingers with her mouth, I turn and catch her wrist.

"I’m tainted, Belle."

"I don’t care. Whatever happened before is in the past. I’m your future—you said it yourself."

I lower her hand, then drag my fingers through my hair. "I need to get dressed."

"No, not until you tell me why you scarred yourself."

"I lost what I thought was my one chance at happiness. I couldn’t face my best friend anymore."

"You mean Baron?"

I nod. "I didn’t want to see any of the Seven, either. They’d been my constant companions since our school days. We went through…a lot together. It formed a bond between us. But after Ava and Baron got together, I couldn’t stay in London. I wanted them to be happy. I’m the one who told Ava to go back to Baron?—"

"You did?"

"It was clear she loved him more. I had my chance and I lost it when I left her. I needed time to get my head on straight. I was a priest and I'd sinned. Everything inside me told me I was in the wrong, but I couldn’t reconcile it with how I felt when I was with her. It was a mindfuck."

She reaches out for me, and I hold up my hand. "Don’t touch me."

Her features fall.

Fuck. I squeeze the bridge of my nose. "I just… Let me get this out while I can Belle."

She nods, then tucks her arm into her side.

"I left her. I told Baron to watch out for her and I left. When I came back, I realized they had fallen in love. I saw them together, and I knew I couldn’t be all the things she needed. I knew I wasn’t in any space to hold down a relationship. How could I, when I hadn’t figured out who I was and what I needed? She chose me. She even moved in with me, but seeing her face every morning, realizing how much she missed him, I told her to return to him."

"You did?"

"What Baron felt for her… It was different. He adored her. He wanted to take care of her. He needed her, and she leaned on him. They turned to each other in my absence and discovered they completed each other. I couldn’t stand in their way."

"So you sacrificed your own happiness?"

"I did no such thing. I knew I couldn’t be happy until I’d dealt with my own devils, so I walked away from them."

"Oh, Eddie." She wraps her arms about herself, and I notice the goosebumps on her skin. I scoop her up in my arms and walk out of the shower stall.

"What are you doing?" she squeaks.

"You’re cold." I manage to grab a couple of towels on the way out, and when I reach the bed, I lower her to the ground. I dry her shoulders, her breasts, her waist, her thighs, down to her feet, then back up to her core. I pat it, then say around the ball of lust in my throat, "Spread your legs."

She does.

I slide the edge of the towel over her slit and back again.

She moans.

I do it again, and she shudders. The sweet scent of her arousal bleeds into the air, and I feel my cock stand up and salute her. Fuck. Can’t keep my hands off of her, can’t keep my gaze off of her pussy. If only I could spend days buried inside her tight cunt, I might get this insane need to rut into her every time I’m near her out of my system. A-n-d, who am I kidding? The more time I spend with her, the more I want her, the more I can’t let go of her. I’ll never get enough of her, and that is the truth. And when she finds out my truth, she’ll hate me. And I can’t let that happen. I can’t. I let the towel drop to the bed, then I lift her up and throw her on it.