Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(43)

I swallowed the tears that he seemed to fish out with his words. “You don’t know that. Can’t say that. I was born for the shadows. You don’t know where I come from,” I whispered.

“Don’t need to know that. I want to, one day, when you feel like tellin’ me. But for now, I don’t need to know where you come from to know you deserve more than the scraps of life you give yourself. I know that where you are, what you are, means you deserve more.”

We were at that moment again, that moment when his face lingered inches away from mine and his lips were as intoxicating as any substance, chemical or natural.

That time I didn’t give him the chance to pull away. I dived in, unable to fight the craving any longer.

His lips crashed into mine in a beautiful collision, and the high was instant and magnificent. It wasn’t tender or gentle like his words. It was fierce and crazy, a furious struggle between the two of us for control.

Then it was nothing.

The hands at my neck tightened and he pulled away, using gentle force to pry our lips apart.

“Hey,” I protested.

He rested his forehead against mine. “I won’t do this, not now,” he rasped, his voice thick. “Not until you’ve fought this shit off and I don’t feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

I fought against his hold. “You’re not taking advantage of me,” I argued.

He held firm but the veins in his neck pulsed. “Yeah, I would be. Plus, I’m a selfish bastard. I want all of you. I want you to give me everything. I’m not takin’ it when you’re still strugglin’.” His eyes burned into mine. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I f*ckin’ want to. I should get a f*ckin’ medal for my restraint right now. But I’m willin’ to be patient ’cause I know you’re worth it.” He stood. “Now I’m going for a drive ’cause I can’t be in the same room as you right now.” His eyes burned into mine. “If I stay much longer, all my self-restraint will disappear and I’ll f*ck you into oblivion right there on that sofa.”

Then he left.

Fucking left after saying that.

The *.

I was angry. Pissed. I’d paced, sworn, and sent mental daggers to wherever he was. I’d planned on staying up and unleashing my anger. But he didn’t come back, not until I was long asleep on the sofa. I only awoke to his arms encircling me and laying me down on my bed. Because I was sleep-zombie Bex, I wasn’t myself. Which was how I explained away clinging to him when he tried to let me go.

“Don’t leave me,” pleaded the stranger Bex.

And he didn’t. The sound of boots hitting the floor followed and I was bundled up in strong arms. I nuzzled deeper.

“This is nice,” I mumbled.

A hand stroked my head. “Sleep, firefly.”

“I do,” I whispered, already half in the dream world. “Knowing I’m with you, near you. I sleep for the first time since it happened. I’m safe.”

Then I drifted off and didn’t feel the way his body stiffened at my words.

And in the morning, he was gone.





Chapter Ten





“Do not fall in love with me, for I’ll break your heart, long before you realize you are going to break mine.”

-Atticus



I got it. Peace. Just a taste. Nearly two weeks of it. The only slice I’d ever have. Because everything comes to an end, right?

The good news is nothing lasts forever. That’s what I’d tell myself when I was at a shitty foster home where we got dressed in dirty clothes and slept in scratchy sheets. That’s what I told myself… after, when I thought I’d go crazy with the demons pounding at my skull that night. They were still pounding, even now. But it wasn’t forever yet; there was still time for them to leave the building.

That’s what I told myself now, that forever wouldn’t be fighting the urge for a craving, counting every second as a small victory in an exhausting fight.

Then there was the bad news: nothing lasts forever.

My peace was shattered two weeks into our little stay. Or, more aptly, I shattered it. Two weeks was a long time to be cooped up in an isolated cabin with someone, but I wasn’t getting cabin fever. I was starting to like it. Too much.

I was starting to like Lucky.

A f*cking lot.

He’d just come in from his surf, wearing low-slung board shorts and nothing else. You’d think I would’ve found a way not to be struck silly by his washboard abs covered in tattoos. And I mean covered. There was only a small space above his heart that was naked, unblemished skin.

It was getting harder not to pounce on him. Especially when I needed something. Needed escape.

But he didn’t promise escape.

I think he promised damnation.

So something had to give.

“Why?” I snapped at him as soon as he closed the sliding door.

He threw a towel onto the counter and shrugged. “I don’t know, I was just born this beautiful. Sure, I work out, but this bone structure?” He gestured to his face. “God-given.”

Now that I was sober, my emotions were volatile, like constant PMS. Which was why I may have let out a shrill, frustrated, embarrassingly girly scream.

“Be serious for once in your f*cking life!” I shouted, stomping into his face. “Why? Why did you bring me here? Hit the pause button on your life for two f*cking weeks for someone you barely know? And don’t hit me with the romance novel ‘you are mine’ bullshit. We’re not in a fantasy world. This is the real world and that’s not how it works. This”—I gestured between us—“doesn’t make sense. I’m not someone anyone ‘falls’ for. So give me the f*cking reality, Lucky. The sense. The why.”