Managed (VIP #2)(79)

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Destroyed. My polished armor. My stubborn resistance. My hardened heart. She’s smashed through the first two and laid total claim on the third. And I don’t feel like running.

In truth, I can barely move. Hours of coming together, resting, catching each other’s eye, then coming together again like greedy fiends who f*ck as though the world is about to end, has taken its toll.

I’m replete and sweating in a tangle of Sophie’s curvy little body and the sheets that have long since pulled from the bed. She lays her head in the crook of my shoulder where she belongs, and I play with the rose-gold strands of her damp hair.

I could have lost her tonight, missed this perfection by being a prat. Gratitude swells in my chest and clogs my throat. Sophie Darling didn’t walk out on me. She gave me a chance.

“Thank you for coming home,” I tell her, unable to hold back the words.

Home. Does she realize how many times I’ve referred to wherever we rest our heads as my home? I hadn’t meant to betray myself that way, but I can’t seem to stop. I want her to know what she means to me, and yet the sensation of exposing my heart is so foreign, I find it hard to breathe as she stares at me.

But her expression goes soft, her brown eyes shinning. Relief is liquid cool along my tight muscles as she reaches up to tuck my hair back from my brow.

“You came home first.”

I didn’t have a home until she came into my life. She gave me one without hesitation, as if she’s been waiting for me all this time, knowing I was meant to be hers. I touch her cheek just to remind myself she’s real.

Her voice is a thread in the dark. “You have fading bruises on your side and all over your face.”

I don’t move. I knew I wasn’t fully healed, but I’d stayed away as long as I could stand.

“They’re faint,” she says slowly as if she’s measuring her words. “But I saw them when we were in the shower.”

Where it was too bright to hide anything.

Her hand smoothes along my side. I’m no longer tender, but the touch raises little bumps on my skin.

“Are you going to tell me where you were?” She doesn’t demand, which makes it worse.

My voice sounds like rust when I finally speak. “Fighting.”

“Fighting?” She rises up on one elbow. “Who? Where? And what the f*ck?… Why?”

The horror in her eyes makes me feel small. “I grew up fighting. When I was younger, I did it for money, and because it released something in me that needed freeing.”

Her gaze darts over my face. “And you needed that release again?”

“Yes.”

“Because of me.”

I cannot lie to her. Never again. “Yes.”

She sucks in a breath, and I grab her nape, afraid she’ll go. “Because I was an idiot, Sophie, who couldn’t go back to that hotel room that night without breaking. I couldn’t let myself tell you the truth then.”

She doesn’t pull back, but instead gentles her voice. “What truth?”

The words pour out. “That I wanted you to the point of pain. That I needed you more than anything.”

A sigh escapes her, and she rests her forehead to mine. “Gabriel, I needed you too. It isn’t weakness to admit that.”

Silently, I nod.

Sophie strokes my side where the bruises are fading. “Please don’t do it again. I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt.”

“Does it help to know I won?” I’m only half-joking, but I hate the sadness I put in her eyes and want it gone.

“No.” Her smile is tremulous and brief. “Yes, a little.” The edge of her thumb runs along my cheekbone where I was hit. “Promise, sunshine? That you’ll come to me instead when you’re needy.”

“Darling, coming with you far surpasses any brief release I’d find fighting.” It’s a horrible quip. But this is what she’s done to me; I’ve become a blathering, bestowed idiot.

Doesn’t seem to matter; her expression goes soft, pleased. “Okay then.”

“Okay,” I whisper in agreement, set free by her simple acceptance.

She pulls me closer and kisses me—little presses of her lips, sweet darts that shoot straight to my heart and make it flutter.

If I looked at myself from the outside, I wouldn’t recognize this man who acknowledges his heart is all a-flutter, who smiles against Sophie’s mouth as she keeps kissing. But I like it. I love it.

“More,” she demands, suckling my lower lip. “Kiss me more.”

I chuckle, a breath of sound she captures. “You’re kissing me,” I point out.

“Because you’re delicious.” She dips her tongue between my lips, a slow glide, a lazy taste. “I love your mouth.”

I angle my head, taste her back. “I love yours more.”

“Mmm.” She melts into me, takes my breath and gives it back to me. “Give me another.”

I lick deeper, my mind going hazy, my mouth sensitive to every touch.

“Again,” she says, smiling, kissing.

My hand cups her sweaty cheek. “My greedy, chatty girl.”

With an adorable little grunt, she pushes me onto my back, going at my mouth as if I’m her first taste of chocolate. And I laugh, a low breath against her lips, my heart still f*cking fluttering. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are cartoon hearts in my eyes, and I don’t bloody care.