Chapter 18
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Kieran
I prided myself on my control. My ability to keep a level head in any situation.
So I had to ask myself: What in the ever-loving fuck was that?
Oh, you know, just me whipping out my dick like some primal beast in heat and taking him in a single thrust. In the middle of a conversation, no less.
Never in my entire life had I ever behaved so irrationally. It was abhorrent. I needed to apologize. Maybe grovel.
No groveling.
At the very least, swear it would never happen again.
“I trust you. This will not change.”
The bottom fell out of my stomach, and I searched his eyes for a modicum of doubt, an ounce of insincerity, or even a bold lie told out of fear.
I came up empty. Those green and blue irises were just as open and innocent as the first time he laid them on me.
A familiar twinge of anger coiled inside me, whispering that there was no way this was real…
that Haz was real. He couldn’t possibly look at me like this, say that, after how I’d just behaved.
It was an impossibility. He couldn’t trust me. Unless he’s stupid.
My entire body recoiled from the vile insult. Haz was a lot of things, and maybe when I first met him, I might have thought him stupid. But now? I knew he wasn’t.
He’d kept himself alive his entire life. Managed to escape from not one but three men trying to murder him. Hell, he’d even tried to fight them off. I’m going to have to lecture him about that later. That cannot happen again.
I couldn’t understand his innocence. Hell, I’d just robbed him of some.
But there he was, looking up at me with wide, painfully honest eyes and the word trust coating his tongue.
I pulled out of his body, denying the temptation to push back in. My pants were open, not even pushed all the way down, and sticky. My shirt stuck to me in places it was splattered with his release, and sweat dampened my shoulder blades.
Haz sprawled beneath me, shirt splashed with orange juice, stained with cum, and bunched around his waist. His thighs glistened with lube, and his dick lay soft against him, foreskin concealing his glans.
I wanted his trust.
I did not deserve it.
“I need to apologize.” I started, shifting to the side, not even bothering to fix my clothes.
Who even am I?
But how could I worry about my untidy clothes, spilled breakfast, and filthy sheets when he was holding out his precious trust on a silver platter after I’d treated him this way?
“Apologize for what?” Haz asked, looking adorably confused.
“For interrupting our conversation to, ah… penetrate you without your consent.”
“You asked for my safe word.”
I made a choked sound. “After I was already fucking you.”
“I liked it.”
“It was abrupt and rough—”
“I liked that too.”
Frustration made me snap. “Stop staying that.”
Haz fell quiet a moment, then, “Why?”
I gaped at him, incredulous. “You can’t let me off the hook for practically assaulting you.”
His brows furrowed but then smoothed out. “Would you have stopped if I used my safe word?”
“Yes,” I said instantly. I might have behaved barbarically, but I would never ignore a clear no. I’d given him a safe word for a reason. He tested the tight chain of control I held myself on. He challenged me in ways no one ever had.
He shook his head. “Then it wasn’t assault.”
“I yanked your boxers off and shoved my dick inside you,” I said, lewd.
“I was there.”
This little shit.
“Hazard.” I was serious. “I’m trying to apologize for something that was wrong.
” He opened his mouth, but I held up my hand.
“There is no excuse for my behavior, and I’m not even going to justify my actions with my feelings because yours are more important.
” I reached for him, stopping halfway. “Can I touch you?”
He pushed off the bed and climbed into my lap. God, I love this. Having him right there in my arms. The IV line strung out behind him when he draped his arms around my neck.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. I knew I should tell him he could rescind his trust. That he should. I couldn’t get the damnable words out of my throat. They stuck there like peanut butter on a dry cracker. All I could manage was a paltry, “I hope you can forgive me.”
“I’ll accept your apology on two conditions.”
I nodded, willing to do anything. His attacker’s heart in a box? Done. The deed to this apartment? He could have it. For me to go to therapy for my control issues? It would be hard, but I would agree.
“One,” he said. “Kiss me.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
He puckered his lips, and when I still hesitated, he wiggled them.
Dipping my head, I touched mine to his, and the ridiculous fish face he was making melted with a sigh.
He was pillow soft and warm. The faint taste of maple met me when my tongue brushed over his.
Fingers climbed the back of my neck, sinking into my hair, and I deepened the kiss immediately, falling into his needy embrace.
I took my time exploring his mouth, changing the direction of the kiss every few minutes so I could taste him completely.
He was like putty in my arms, offering no resistance.
Compliant and sweet. My heart thudded slowly, and the center of my chest burned.
I’d forgotten how much more painful life was than death.
How every moment of life hurt in some way, whereas death was just empty.
In the past—hell, just two days ago—I’d have run from the pain. But now, with him in my arms, it made me think perhaps not all pain was bad. Maybe life had to hurt to remind you that you were alive.
Our lips drew apart. Before retreating completely, I kissed him one last time on the tip of the nose.
He smiled, and I hurt again. A hurt I would endure a thousand times over.
When he ducked his head, wild tawny waves attacked the lower half of my face, and I breathed in deep the scent of my shampoo.
Pink cheeks and soft eyes lifted, the faintest smile curving his plump lips. “Two,” he said.
It took me a moment to understand what he meant, and then I realized I was supposed to be apologizing.
“Never ask if you can touch me again.”
My throat turned dry as if I’d swallowed a cup of sand. The gritty feeling was uncomfortable but not nearly as much as the idea of never touching him again. “Ever?” I asked, the word scraping from the Sahara in my throat.
He nodded.
Why couldn’t he have asked for a heart in a box?
He didn’t, and this was the price of my betrayal. I lifted my hands from him, starting to move away.
He caught the open collar at my throat, hands fisting in the material. “What are you doing?”
“Never touching you again.”
His eyes widened so much that I saw white around the different-colored orbs. “I said never ask if you can touch me again,” he said.
“What?”
The grip on my collar tightened. “I don’t like it. It’s stupid. There will never be a time when I don’t want you to touch me. So just do it… whenever you want.”
My forehead pressed against his, relief making my neck weak. “You can’t give people blanket consent, Hazard.”
“I didn’t give it to people. I gave it to you.”
“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered.
“Oh, and you can tell me you own me all you want during sex. That’s so hot.”
I laughed. The force of it expelled a knot of tension I hadn’t even known was there. “I’m going to run you a bath. You can soak while I clean all this up and change the sheets.”
“I can help,” he argued, turning toward the tray on the other side of the bed.
“You need to rest.”
I went to the bathroom to turn on the water, and while it was filling, I sent a quick text to Ghost. We need to talk.
After, I carried Haz into the bathroom and stripped off the filthy shirt. Once he was settled in the tub with his stitched knee and hand propped out of the water, I switched out the empty IV bag for a full one.
He scowled and complained, but I did it anyway.
After giving him a glass of water and some pain medication, I left him to soak while I stripped the bed and then took a quick shower. Dressed in pair of black jeans and a fresh button-up, I checked my phone to see a message from Doc saying he’d be here soon to check on Haz.
Good. It will keep him busy while I talk to Ghost.
The clock was ticking, and I had to figure out what the hell I was going to do about the hit out on my little hazard’s head.