Chapter 31

"I am. I can't fucking deny who I am or the things that I've done," Samuel nearly shouts at me. His hand slides along his short hair in frustration, and he lets out a heavy sigh as he mutters, "I'm so much fucking worse."

"Worse?" I exclaim.

"I've tried to hide it from you," his eyes dart to the scrapes and bruises from yesterday, "but I couldn't. You've seen it with your face pressed against the cobblestones."

"I…I don't understand."

"You aren't the first woman I've fucked with their face buried in the ground." His tone is flat as he explains, "I don't even know how many of them there have been over the years."

My stomach drops, and I'm filled with nausea. "Why?"

"They don't matter." He paces and his voice is on the verge of sounding frantic. "I'm trying so fucking hard, Cora."

"Trying to do what?"

"To keep these uncontrollable urges at bay." He rounds the bed and takes a step toward me. I quickly realize that I have nowhere to go but backward. I recoil with every step he takes until I find myself in the corner.

His hands slam into the wall, flanking my face, and boxing me in as he braces his weight on his forearms. My heart pounds, and I can barely breathe as he looms over me. Looking up at him, our eyes meet While his face is riddled with anger—pure fucking rage—all I can see is the softness of his eyes. And I can't bring myself to look away.

"You weren't the first of them, Cora." He shakes his head as he presses his forehead to mine.

"What are you saying, Samuel." I struggle through my tears to push the words out.

"I've never fought it before. I've given in to every fucking urge and need." His words are slow and heavy, his warm breath blowing over my face with every word.

"The last time?" I ask, completely unsure if I want to know the answer.

"Chicago."

"You fucking raped a woman in Chicago, then flew home early to?—"

"I didn't fuck anyone in Chicago," he gruffly interrupts me. "I followed her. I grabbed her with every intention of fucking her. Wanting nothing more than to hear her screaming and gasping for air as I took what I needed from her."

"Sam…" I almost sob his name as my eyes fall to the floor. So overwhelmed by his confessions, I don't know how to react.

"I couldn't fucking do it." He slips a finger under my chin and tips my face back up toward his. "I couldn't even fucking get hard for her. Even when I'm weak, my cock knows you're fucking it for me."

"Because you couldn't get it up," I scoff. "I'm supposed to feel better?"

"The party last night. The one you were supposed to come to with me. I spent two million on a whore there last night." He firmly grips my chin when I try to look away again, "I didn't lay fucking finger on her. My cock never fucking left my pants. I had no interest in fucking her. The entire fucking time I fantasized about coming home to you. About coming home and fucking you."

His grip tightens on my chin, the force of his grip hovering on the edge of being painful. He lowers his face until there is just a breath of space between us.

"You, Cora." He leans against me and exhales, "Just fucking you."

His lips press firmly against mine, and the undeniable electricity between the two of us shoots through my body. Flooding every nerve, it momentarily washes away every feeling of betrayal and disgust.

"You're all I fucking want." He speaks against my lips, and his voice is suddenly laced with anguish. "You make me fucking better, love. I can't fucking let you go."

"Sam." His name vibrates from my lips to his.

"I'll give you a little space," he releases my chin and takes a step back from me, "but you're not fucking leaving."

Samuel walks from the room, and my body slides down the wall until I'm sitting on the floor with my knees pulled to my chest. Dropping my face between my knees, I sob uncontrollably. My tears dampening the sheet as they control to fall from my face.

How is it possible to care this much for a fucking monster?

To fucking…love him?