Reign (The Sainthood - Boys of Lowell High #3)(91)
Without waiting for my reply, he sprints off in the direction of the woods behind the bar, and I immediately give chase, because fuck this bullshit.
He’s not dealing with this alone.
Period.
The others don’t attempt to stop me, because they know it would make no difference. Saint needs to understand he’s not an island anymore. I’ve given him enough space to get out of his head, and it hasn’t worked. He’s seriously delusional if he thinks I’m leaving him now.
He can hate me.
Scream at me.
Lose his temper.
I don’t care.
He can do whatever he needs to do to work through his emotions, but he doesn’t get to shut me out, and the sooner he realizes this is the way things are going to be from now on, the better it’ll be for all of us.
CHAPTER 36
I RUN AFTER him, slipping in the mud as rain hammers me from all sides. Cursing my stupidity at racing off without changing into more suitable clothing, I focus on staying upright as Saint disappears into the forest in front of me. Wind whips the hood off my head as I give chase, plastering stray strands of hair—that have come loose from my ponytail—to my brow.
Anguished shouting greets my ears when I dip under the shelter of the trees, welcoming the slight reprieve from Mother Nature. Rain still spills between the gaps in the branches, and tiny rivulets flow underfoot as I walk toward Saint, but the blanket of trees offers some respite. His fists pummel the bark of a tree while he roars and curses.
Slowing my pace, I observe from a few feet back, watching him take his aggression out on the poor tree with a pain in my heart. The skin rips across his knuckles, but still he continues to pound away, lifting his leg and kicking the bark when that’s not enough.
I step up beside him, pulling his hand back. “Stop. You’re hurting yourself.”
“I don’t fucking care!” he yells, yanking his arm free of my hold.
Swiping hair out of my eyes, I level him with a stern look. “Look at me!” I grab his arm before he makes contact with the broken bark. “You need to vent. I get that. But you vent with me.” Grabbing his hand, I place it over my heart. “You own part of this, and every time you hurt yourself, you hurt me.” He tries to wrestle his hand away, but I don’t let him, gripping his wrist tight, forcing his hand lower until he’s cupping my breast through the hoodie. “Take me. Right here. Let me help you work it out.”
Grabbing the nape of my neck with his free hand, he yanks me toward him, forcing my head back at an awkward angle. “You want me to fuck my anger out, queenie? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in my voice.
The hand around my breast squeezes, and he slams me back against the tree. “You want me to hurt you?”
“If that’s what you need,” I calmly reply, dropping my hand between us and grabbing his erection through his jeans.
His eyes flash manically, and the grip on my neck tightens to the point of pain. He arches my head back farther, kneading my tit through the hoodie. “No.” The word contains finality, and he pulls back, his hands leaving my body bereft. “I won’t do that to you. I can’t hurt you. Not like this.”
If this was any other scenario, I’d tell him I’m proud of how far he’s come, but that sentiment has no place in this moment. Taking a risk, I close the gap between us, slapping him across the face. “You don’t tell me no. Not now. Not ever. And you don’t get to fucking push me away.” I rip at the button of his jeans as he stares at me in shock. “You hurt, I hurt. That’s the way it’s always been from the moment we met and our connection flared to life,” I remind him, shoving my hand down the front of his boxers, wrapping my fingers around his hard cock. Stretching up, I crush my lips against his, forcing my tongue into his mouth. When he doesn’t kiss me back, I rip my lips from his mouth and pull my hand from his boxers.
“I love you.” I grip his chin. “I. Love. You.” I peer into his eyes, beseeching him to let my love in. “I know your head is going in a million different directions, and I know you’re used to dealing with shit on your own, but you don’t have to do that anymore. I’m your wife, and your pain is my pain.” I unzip the sodden hoodie, throwing it to the wet forest floor, ripping my training top and sports bra off next. “Pain and I are acquainted on an intimate level,” I add, kicking off my sneakers next.
Saint stands transfixed, watching me like I’m some foreign creature he’s never encountered before.
Warmth blossoms in my chest as the truth of those words finds a home inside me. I should be cold, because a storm is raging around us, but there’s a different storm raging inside us, and it’s more powerful, more destructive, more vivid, consuming us in an inferno of flames, heating every part of me. My skin itches with a craving to touch, and from the way Saint shudders, I know he’s feeling it too.
He’s just too fucking stubborn and too angry to admit it.
“Give in to it with me.” I shove my yoga pants down my legs, bracing one hand against the tree as I yank them off my feet. Straightening up, I push my chest out and bare my soul, standing before him completely naked with rain bouncing off my pale, scarred skin, begging him to let go and give in to his instincts. “Lean on me and know that you never have to face anything alone again.”