Fever (Breathless #2)(88)

Her eyes widened, and then he released her face and pulled her to her feet, shedding his own clothes as he shoved her toward the shower.

He couldn’t control the shaking that had invaded his limbs. He could barely manage to hold on to her in the shower, but he anchored her firmly against his body, using the heat of the water as well as the heat from his own body to warm her.

She was like a block of ice, the cold so deeply ingrained that it had chilled her blood. It killed him that she’d been so long out in the rain, desolate, distraught, all because he’d handled things completely wrong. He’d made her believe she was nothing. That she had nothing. When she was goddamn everything to him.

He loved her. If there’d been any doubt before this, it was gone now. And you didn’t treat someone you loved like he’d treated her. He hadn’t shown any understanding. He hadn’t listened to her, hadn’t waited for her to explain. All this time, he’d been patient, waiting for her to discuss her past, to share that part of her with him. And when he’d had the opportunity, he’d blown it.

That would never happen again. And he’d be damned if he let her walk out of his life when he’d waited thirty-eight years for her to walk into it.

Heat swelled and surrounded them and he felt her shivering finally ease as she sagged into his arms, warm and pliant and so very precious. All he’d ever wanted, he held right now in his arms. He wasn’t letting go. He never lost a battle he was truly invested in and this was the most important one of his life.

He kissed her temple and let his mouth slide down her soft cheek to her chin. His. His woman. His lover. His wife, if he had any damn thing to say about it. He was going to tie her so tightly to him that she’d breathe the same air as he did.

“Are you warm now?” he murmured against her ear.

She nodded and he reluctantly pulled her from his embrace and turned the water off. He hurried her out of the shower and rubbed her briskly with a towel so she wouldn’t grow chilled again. When he got to her hair, he pulled it from her neck, his gaze settling on the choker he’d given her for Christmas. She hadn’t taken it off. Even when she’d been so hurt. He traced the lines with his finger and then leaned in to kiss the space between her ear and the choker where her pulse fluttered under his lips.

She took a step away, her eyes still haunted and guarded. “Jace . . .”

“Shhh, Bethany. Just give me some time here. You need to be warm and dry and then we’re going to talk. About everything. And you aren’t leaving. Don’t even think about it. I’ll tie you to my bed and not suffer an ounce of remorse, if that’s what I have to do to keep you here.”

She bit her lip but went silent, allowing him to wrap her hair in the towel. Then he grabbed his robe from the hook on the back of the door and helped her into it, tying it securely around her waist.

He took only a few moments to towel off and pull dry clothing on before he urged her into the living room.

He turned on the fire and settled her on the couch.

“Give me just a few more minutes to make you a cup of hot chocolate and I’ll be back.”

He waited, hesitant to leave her for even that amount of time, but the fact that she was only in his robe—something he’d done purposely—reassured him that she wouldn’t be bolting out of his apartment.

But still, he waited for her agreement and when she finally nodded, his chest lightened in relief.

It seemed to take an eternity for the milk to heat in the microwave. He hastily stirred in the mix and sweetened it just how she liked it and then he went back into the living room where she was cuddled on the couch.

Her feet were tucked underneath her as if she were seeking more warmth and she’d taken the throw from the end and positioned it over her lap. He wasn’t sure if she needed the extra warmth or if she was adding layers as a protective measure . . . from him.

He’d allow no barriers between them. Not anymore. But first they had to get everything out in the open.

He handed her the mug and she clasped it in both hands, absorbing the warmth into her palms. He settled onto the couch next to her, turning so they faced one another. He pulled his knee up and toward the back so that it was touching hers. She didn’t move away, something he took as a positive sign, but he knew he had a lot of ground to make up.

“I owe you an apology,” he said in a low voice. “I’m sorry, Bethany. I just lost it. When I thought of all the things that could have happened to you, I went a little crazy and I said things I didn’t mean. I never meant to make you feel like you were nothing or had nothing. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

The mug shook in her hands as she lowered it from her mouth. “I understand. I do. But, Jace, I told you what I almost did.”

Her face was a wreath of pain and shame. It was nearly his undoing. No longer able to keep any distance at all between them, he took the mug from her hands and placed it on the coffee table before returning and moving closer. He looped one arm along the back of the couch so his fingers touched her shoulder and he pulled her other hand into his, caressing her palm with his thumb.

“‘Almost’ is the key word, baby. You almost took a pill. But you didn’t. You stopped. You didn’t do it.”

She closed her eyes and his heart clenched when a tear slipped down one cheek.

“I had come such a long way,” she whispered. “Until today. Until I saw those pills. I don’t think about them. I mean, I hadn’t. I haven’t wanted them. Not since I got clean. And then today I wanted it more than anything. It was a compulsion.”