Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
JULIANNA
The searing pain shoots up my leg and straight to my chest. I grip my knee as I look down and see half my leg has disappeared beneath the bridge floor.
My foot sunk straight through the board as if it were made of soft ground.
The boards were creaking when I stepped onto the bridge, but I didn’t think it was in this bad of shape.
I guess when things are left neglected for years, they’re bound to weaken.
“Lark!” Rome shouts from the foot of the bridge.
He doesn’t hesitate to race across it to meet me before he sinks to his knees beside me and his panicked gaze drops to my leg. Bright blue eyes widen as he reaches for my leg, but I flinch.
“I’m fine, Rome.” I grunt, trying to pull my leg up from under the broken board. “I’ll get it out.”
“Do you really hate me so much that you’re refusing my help?” He frowns at me.
I hiss between clenched teeth, the burning sensation in my calf and shin spreading up my leg. I’m looking at my husband, knowing I’ve experienced far worse pain than the kind I’m in now. “Yes.”
“Let me help you.” There’s a fire in his eyes that rocks me to my core. I search his face, trying to sort through my feelings.
This entire walk has been a disaster. I told myself I needed the air and silence to gather my thoughts.
I was frustrated when he said he was going to come with me, but I didn’t argue.
I believed him when he said it could be dangerous, and, admittedly, it was me who broke my vow of silence.
I opened the door for him to ask questions and, as usual, it’s blown up in my face.
I can’t be around Rome without old feelings coming to the surface in no time at all.
“Fine.” I sit back on the heels of my palms, watching him with a pinched expression. I’m fully prepared for it to hurt like a fucking bitch when he releases my foot.
“Hang on. This part might hurt. Try bending your foot as I pull it out.”
“Okay.” I nod, bracing myself for the pain.
After wrapping one hand around my calf and the other on the lower half of my shin, he slowly pulls on my leg.
I squeeze my eyes shut, bending my foot as he guides it through the hole.
I can’t help it—I cry out, the searing pain shooting up my leg to my waist. I’m panting, taking a second to regain my bearings.
“Oh, shit,” Rome mutters, causing me to crack my eyes open.
Blood streams down my leg to my foot; my pant leg destroyed from the splintered wood. The rain mixes with the crimson liquid as it pours down my skin and onto the bridge.
“Hang on.” Rome removes the pistol he brought with him from his waistband and sets it down beside him before he begins unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to stop the bleeding.” He peels his shirt off his back and slips his arms out of the sleeves. A few seconds later, he wraps it around my leg, over the wounds.
I can’t tear my gaze from his chest as he works to cover my leg. Tears line my eyes as I study the splattering of ink on his skin. Other than the bird tattoo on his neck, I haven’t seen any of these.
I’m staring at the rosebud stretching across his ribs, when I’m met with an onslaught of memories.
An ache churns in my stomach, followed by a hunger I’ve been struggling to deny.
I’m struggling to breathe again. Rome is touching me, making it impossible to play the role I’ve played for the last ten years.
“You didn’t need to do that.” I clear my throat, breaking the silence between us.
My words force him to stop what he’s doing. He turns his face to look up at me, on his knees beside me.
“I’m capable of taking care of myself when I’m hurt.” I force the words out, knowing this is the only way to survive by hating Rome and keeping him at a distance. It’s the only way to prevent myself from being dragged back down to Hell, kicking and screaming.
He doesn’t let me off the hook easily this time, though. I’ve pushed him too far. His eyes darken, filling with an intensity that brings heat between my thighs. His lips thin in anger as he huffs a frustrated breath through his nose.
“Fuck, Lark.” He growls. “Why are you so goddamn stubborn?”
“I’m the only one I can count on. I’m the only one who knows my secrets and cares about what I’ve lost,” I say, pushing up off my hands.
He flinches as though I’ve slapped him. “You think I haven’t suffered from what we lost, too?”
“You haven’t proven to me otherwise.”
“With the way you always push me away or keep me at a distance, it’s no wonder you have no fucking clue.”
“Pushing you away is the only way I come out of this alive.”
“Come out of what alive?”
“Being around you. Seeing your face. Hearing your voice. Feeling your touch. I can’t fucking stand it. It makes me so fucking angry, I honestly believe I’ve been sentenced to purgatory for all eternity.”
“How do you think I’ve felt over the years?” he asks, his hand sliding up my injured leg. “Watching other men touch you. Knowing other men are fucking you. Fucking my secret wife.” His hand glides across my wet thigh. Fuck, my entire body is soaking wet, and it isn’t just from the rain.
The mood has shifted from sharp, pointed anger between us to some sort of ravenous, heated bitterness.
It’s like we want to punish each other for all the feelings we’ve bottled up over the years.
My thighs clench at the thought of how it felt to have his skilled tongue assaulting my clit, and my heart races at the memory of the taste of his mouth.
“Is that all I am to you? A possession? A title?” I ask as his fingers skate over my body effortlessly.
“Yes.” His fingers spread as he smooths his palm across my thigh, up to my hip before moving along my stomach. I lean back on my hands again, tipping my chin, inhaling hard.
“We agreed we were free to fuck other people.” I gasp when his hand causes me to tremble beneath him. “If I am just a possession to you, it shouldn’t have mattered.”
“What about Will, then? Don’t tell me you didn’t imagine fucking him before we split.” He cuts me a glare.
“I hate you.” It’s the only argument I have. It’s hard to concentrate on a suitable rebuttal when his hands are on me this way.
His only response is to slide his hand across my stomach and up between my breasts before landing on my neck.
I tip my head back as he wraps his fingers around it, pressing against my pulse. I drop my gaze as he tightens his grip on me.
“Tell me, Lark.” His eyes burn at the sight of his hand around my neck. “Did you scream their name the way you would mine?”
I’m panting. My entire body is burning. At this point, every inch of me feels like the injury to my leg. I have no idea if it’s still bleeding or how bad the damage is. All I care about is the way Rome has his hand wrapped around me, like he’s ready to devour me.
Shifting his weight, he keeps his hand on my throat as he moves between my legs, parting them. He jerks his hips, pressing his cock at the sensitive spot between my thighs. My head falls back, gasping with the sudden, welcome intrusion.
“Did your cunt cry for them the way it does for me?” His jaw tightens, and he works the muscles there.
“I’m not answering that question.”
A feeble whimper escapes me as his stiff cock presses against my body. Not wearing any underwear while wearing thin leggings amplifies every stroke as he rubs himself against me.
“For fuck’s sake. Tell the truth for once.”
“I have.” I wrap my hand around his on my throat in return.
“No, you haven’t.” He rocks his hips again. “You’re a fucking snake disguised as a bird. You think you’re so innocent? You think you’re only one who’s been hurt? You think you’re the only one who has felt immense loss?”
“You…” I sigh, my eyes dropping to his mouth as I rub my soaking wet cunt against his hardened cock. “You have no soul.”
My confession changes his pace in an instant. It’s as if he’s out to prove me wrong. His hand moves from my neck down to my chest. Wrapping his fingers around the scalloped collar of my top, he pulls it down, and my breast pops free, the chilly wet air causing my nipple to peak.
“You and I,” he whispers against my skin, his mouth dangerously close to my breast. “You and I are one and the same.”
Then he’s sinking his teeth into my breast. He bites down before dragging his tongue along the curve and pulling my nipple into his mouth. He sucks hard, puckering his lips around it. The sting sends a shockwave down to my clit.
I try to back away, pushing back on the heels of my hands, but the shooting pain in my leg gives me pause. Even still, Rome doesn’t let me move. He grips onto my breast tighter and moves one hand to the back of my knee, sending me a wicked grin before bringing his mouth to my nipple again.
“I hate you.” I grip the back of his head, weaving my fingers between the wet strands.
“I fucking hate you.” The storm clouds continue to rumble above us, and I know it’s probably dangerous staying on this bridge, but I don’t care.
I give up the fight. The knot that’s been choking me for years is unraveling.
Every ounce of anger and resentment I have toward Rome is pouring out of me with every lick, suck, bite, and stroke.
“Sounds like it.” He slips his hand over my pussy. “Feels like it.”
“We are nothing alike,” I choke out.
My lie propels him. His darkened gaze rises before he takes my nipple between his sharp teeth and pulls it up before snapping it back.
I cry out, then he’s pushing up onto his knees.
I’ve barely had a second to register the shift when he’s pulling on my leggings.
He yanks them down past my ass until they’re down past my knees, and his mouth curls into a smirk at the sight of me completely bare.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, his eyes shoot straight for the tattoo just below my hip bone, inked into the delicate flesh where my hip meets my thigh.
A dark red rose the size of my palm.