Chapter 20 #2
Her hands slide up my chest, their heat serving as a reminder that she's still here, uninjured and whole.
I revel in the reminder, and then her mouth is on mine.
The kiss is hungry and desperate, charged with all the chaos coursing through my veins since I walked out of the bathroom and found she had left.
My hands find her waist, pulling her flush against me, and her gasp melts into mine.
The relief of having her here, alive, solid, and real in my arms after thinking I might lose her crashes over me like a wave.
I pull her closer, my fingers threading through her hair as I tilt her face up to mine, deepening the kiss until I can feel her breath become mine.
She makes that sound in the back of her throat, the one that always undoes me, as her fingers start working at the buttons of my vest. And for a few seconds, everything disappears. All is right again.
The fight. The fear. The anger. It's all gone, and there's only her lips on mine, her body pressed against me, her heart racing against my chest, but then reality slams back into me.
This is what she does. I catch her wrists and pull back, breathing hard, my lips still tingling from the kiss.
She tries to follow, to close the distance again, but I hold her away.
"No." The word comes out sharp, and I see her flinch. "No, I'm not going to keep letting you do this."
"Do what?"
"This." I release her wrists and step back, putting space between us even though every cell in my body is screaming to close the distance.
"You pull me in, and then when things get hard, you push me away.
We have one perfect night together, and then you wake up and convince yourself I'm the enemy again. "
"That's not—"
"It is." My hands are shaking from adrenaline, from fear, from years of this cycle repeating itself. "You keep putting me in the same category as everyone who's hurt you before. Your ex, your father, your so-called friends, anyone who made you a promise and broke it. But I'm not them."
She opens her mouth to argue then closes it. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears.
"I have never lied to you," I continue, my voice cracking. "Not once. I told you I wouldn't fight as a matador, and I kept that promise. I put on this suit, and you immediately assumed the worst. You didn't ask. You didn't give me a chance to explain. You just decided I was like all the rest."
"I know." Her voice is small. "I know, and I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't enough anymore." The words taste bitter. "I need you to trust me—actually trust me. Not this version where you trust me until you get scared and then run."
She moves toward me, reaching up to touch my face. "Please, I'm sorry. I was wrong. I..." She rises on her toes, trying to kiss me, but I catch her shoulders, stopping her just before our lips meet.
"I can't." The confession comes out broken. "I love you too much. It was never fake for me, Asha, not for one second. I never had any intention of letting you go, but I'm starting to think I have to. You'll survive losing me, but I won't survive you."
"You love me?" she whispers, as if she's unsure she truly heard those words.
"Watching you out there nearly killed me." I pull her closer, making her look at me, ensuring she hears every word. "I love you so much it terrifies me."
"Trigger…" her voice breaks, tears spilling over.
I step back, needing space to get this next part out, my shoulders hitting the rough wood of the stall wall.
"But I can't keep doing this. I thought I could.
I thought I could pretend until you finally realized what I've always felt in the depths of my soul…
that we were inevitable." I drag my hand through my hair and tug hard.
"I thought I could survive off your sharp tongue, knowing your words meant you felt something for me.
I thought it would be enough, but after what happened out there… "
The words die in my throat, because watching that bull charge her all but stopped my heart.
The memory rushes back, the massive black body closing the distance, her in white, the whole world narrowing to that single moment of terror.
She takes a step toward me, but I hold up a hand, needing to finish.
"You were reckless, and I drove you to that.
If you got hurt to prove a point, to get back at me for some petty rivalry that we can't seem to outrun…
" my voice cracks. "I couldn't live with myself if things turned out differently today.
But I can let you go. I'll suffer through a life without you if it means you'll have a tomorrow. "
"It's not fake." She swallows hard and slowly brings my hand to rest over her heart, palm flat against her chest where it's still racing. "When I touch you, when I kiss you…it's never once been fake."
"Then what is it?"
"It's the only time I'm not scared." A tear spills down her cheek, cutting a clean line through the dust. "You're as close to real as I've ever felt. When I'm with you like that, I can forget that I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?"
"This." She gestures between us helplessly. "Let someone love me and be brave enough to tell them I love them back."
"No," I shake my head. "Don't you dare tell me you love me. A stronger man can swallow that lie, but I'm not him."
"It's not a lie." She steps even closer, and now we're almost chest to chest, her breath mixing with mine in the dusty air. "I've loved you since the day I told you I hoped you hated strawberries."
I bark out a laugh that's more pain than humor. "That's a hell of a way to show love."
"When you showed up at Ridgewood, I didn't hate you because my father told me to.
" She pauses when I quirk a brow, not buying it.
"Okay, maybe a little, but that piece wasn't as big as the other piece.
" Her hand comes up to my face, and her fingers trace my jaw.
"You were a living, breathing piece of home, and memories of my mother were tied up in you.
I never hated you. I only ever wanted to because you made me feel, and that scared me.
If I didn't have you, I couldn't lose you. "
The confession breaks something open in my chest. "So you kept me at arm's length."
"I tried to." Her thumb brushes across my lower lip, and I can't stop the sharp intake of breath. "But you wouldn't stay away. You kept pushing. Kept showing up. Kept making me feel things I didn't want to feel."
"I couldn't stay away." My voice is barely above a whisper. "Even when I should have. Even when you hated me. Even when loving you felt like the stupidest thing I could do."
"You love me?" she asks again, like she still can't quite believe it, like hearing it the first time wasn't enough.
"Yes." I turn my head, pressing a kiss to her palm. "God help me, yes. I love you. I've loved you for so long I can't remember what it feels like not to."
Her hands slide around my neck, and she's pulling me down, rising on her toes, and this time when our lips meet, I don't pull away.
She tastes like salt and dust and coming home.
Her hands are everywhere in my hair, on my shoulders, sliding down my chest to work at the buttons of my vest, and I don't stop her. I need her more than I need air.
"This doesn't fix everything," I murmur against her mouth, even as my fingers find the hem of her shirt. "I'm still furious about that stunt you just pulled."
"Furious, huh?"
She's pulling at my shirt now, untucking it, and a low groan escapes my throat when I feel her hands on my heated flesh. She bites my lip hard, and I'm sure it draws blood.
"Yeah." I walk her backward until her back hits the opposite wall.
"Then why don't you stop talking and make me feel it?" she challenges.
"Sweetheart, you have no idea what you're asking for." I kiss her hard, our tongues hungrily battling to prove to each other that we're all in. That this is real. "Turn around."
She hesitates for just a second, and I see the flash of vulnerability beneath her boldness, before she relents. Turning, she faces the wall, her palms pressed flat against the rough wood.
I step in close behind her, and my lips are at her ear when I ask, "You want to know how angry you made me?"
"Yes." Her voice is barely a whisper now.
My hands slide around to the front of her riding pants, my fingers working the button.
"Then I'm going to show you." I ease the fabric down slowly over her hips and down her thighs until it pools around her ankles.
Her breathing changes, and she can't hide the way her body trembles with anticipation.
She's unsure of what she just asked for, but her obedience tells me she wants whatever I have to give.
I place one hand on the small of her back, steadying her, before I unleash my anger.
"This is for thinking I lied to you." My other hand comes down sharp against her ass, and the sound echoes in the small space.
She gasps then moans, her fingers curling against the wood.
"This is for making me the enemy." Another slap, harder this time, and her whole body arches.
"Trigger." My name comes out broken.
"This is for running." The third lands in the same spot, and I watch the way her muscles tense and release, the way she pushes back into it instead of pulling away.
My girl would love getting spanked.
"This is for being reckless." The fourth makes her cry out, a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure. "For getting on that horse and almost getting yourself killed."
"I'm sorry." She's trembling harder now, and I can feel the heat radiating from her skin.
I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear. "And this last one…" My hand comes down a fifth time, harder than all the others. "This is for making me wait so long to have you. Not just the pieces. All of you."
Her body is still trembling from that final slap, and I lean in close, my chest pressed against her back, my lips at her ear. "Still think I'm holding back?"
"No." Her voice is wrecked, breathless. "God, no."
I can feel the heat radiating from her skin, see the marks blooming where my hand connected. My hands slide up her sides, and I can feel every shiver, every tremor coursing through her. "You wanted to feel how angry you made me?"
"Yes." She presses back against me, and the friction makes us both groan.
"Then keep your hands on that wall." The sound of my belt buckle is loud in the enclosed space. "Don't move them."
I free myself, one hand gripping her hip to hold her steady. With the other, I run my tip through her wetness in one slow, teasing stroke. She's soaked, and the knowledge of what I do to her nearly breaks my control.
"God, you're so wet for me," I breathe against her ear.
"Trigger, please—"
Before she can finish, I slam into her in one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt.
The breath leaves her lungs in a rush, and we both let out guttural moans that echo off the wooden walls.
I hold there, deep as I can go, feeling her pulse around me, both of us trembling with the intensity of it.
"Fuck," I groan, my forehead dropping to rest between her shoulder blades. "You’re mine.”
A desperate moan is her only response, her hips rolling back against me, seeking movement.
"Patience," I grit out, though I'm barely holding on myself. I pull back slowly, catching her wetness coating my cock on one of the streams that’s casting light into our stall, and my cock jerks.
I'm not going to last. My girl just told me she loved me and then asked me to punish her, which is something I didn't even know I needed.
Smacking her ass unlocked something inside of me.
It healed a part of me I didn't know was broken.
I thrust in hard again, bottoming out, slow and steady three more times, wanting to draw this out, the thrill of getting caught, the adrenaline rush of almost losing her, and our surrender. It's fucking everything.
My hands grip her hips, and I set a rhythm that has her gasping and the stall walls rattling as she steadies herself to take each punishing stroke.
It's utterly intoxicating, and I'm pretty sure a few shadows have lingered outside the stall. Let them listen. She’s mine, and I want the world to know it.
My hand slides from her hip around to her front, finding that spot that makes her whole body arch.
Her nails scrape against the wood as a broken cry escapes her lips.
"Don't ever stop," she manages to gasp out between moans.
"Not a chance." I pick up the pace, each thrust harder than the last, letting her feel every ounce of frustration and fear and desperate love I've been holding back. "You're mine. Say it."
"Y-yours." The word comes out broken between pants.
"Again."
"Yours." Louder this time, dissolving into a moan. "Always—"
The angle, the words, the way she's falling apart in my arms…it's too much. My rhythm falters, becomes more desperate, more demanding.
"I love you," I growl against her neck, my teeth scraping over her skin. "So goddamn much."
She moans in response, her voice breaking as I hit that spot deep inside that makes her whole body tighten before she comes apart with a cry that I'm sure they can hear halfway to the arena.
The way she pulsates around me pulls me over the edge, and I bury my face against her shoulder, muffling my own groan as I follow her into a perfect, blinding release.
For a long moment, we just stay like that, her pressed against the wall, me pressed against her, both of us breathing hard, hearts racing in sync. Then carefully, I pull out and turn her around.
I cup her face. "You okay?"
She nods, still catching her breath, and manages a soft, satisfied smile, no walls or defenses. Just her. She rises unsteady on her toes to kiss me, slow and sweet this time, pouring everything she can't say into the press of her lips.
"No more running," I murmur against her mouth.
She shakes her head then whispers, "No more running. I'm ready to go home."
Outside, the crowd roars to life as another fight begins, but in here, in the small space, I can finally say we've stopped fighting each other. Now, I just have to make damn sure going home doesn't change that.