49. Princess Davina
Chapter 49
Princess Davina
“I love you and it’s getting worse.”
— Joseph E. Morris
T he door bursts open and Cole stands there, breathless.
That little bastard.
I stagger backward, my heart sinking as he steps inside.
He slams the door shut. “I did what I had to do,” he says, his voice strained, as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as me. “I needed you to unlock your power, but I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry if?—”
“I don’t want to hear your pathetic explanations,” I hiss. My vision blurs with tears again and I shake my head, so mad that I’m showing everything he’s making me feel. So enraged that I can’t keep my emotions in check.
“I needed to do something!” he yells. “You’ve been hallucinating, and I was desperate?—”
“But you knew how much I suffered from having blood on my hands!”
“I know. Damn it , I know. Sorry for not thinking clearly when your life is on the line!” he yells back. “I’ve told you—you would have to use your power as soon as you got it, or you’d fall into a slumber. I’ve told you .”
“But I just used it,” I snap back. “I hurt him, Cole, I?—”
“He needs to burn in flames?—”
“No!” I shake my head vehemently. “No way.”
“Are you telling me you’d risk your own life to protect a stranger?” A muscle in his jaw ticks. “How dare you.”
“How dare I? You’re the one who tried to make me kill someone! How can you stand there and judge me for not following through? Get out!”
“I did it to protect you!”
“You did it because you’re selfish,” I spit. “I don’t want your protection, and I don’t want to kill anyone again.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I just want you to leave.”
“I am selfish when it comes to you. Yes . Yes, I am. But I promise I’ll make it up to you?—”
“Get. Out.”
“No.”
He takes a step closer, and I stiffen, every muscle in my body tightening. “Did you not hear me? I said get out!”
“I heard you. But I’m not leaving.”
“I hate you.”
He drags both hands through his hair, tugging at it as if trying to tear away his own guilt. “I hate myself too.”
“Don’t do this,” I warn. “Get out.”
His eyes glisten with unshed tears and lock onto mine again. “If you fall into that slumber because of your stubbornness, I’ll kill you myself . ”
I spread my arms wide, lifting my hands to the sides. “Ask me if I care.”
He runs his tongue across his teeth, flicking his gaze to the side before bringing it back to me. “I don’t want this,” he says, waving his hand between us. “Fighting. Screaming. I don’t want this. The way you look at me right now makes me want to kill someone.”
My teeth ache from how tightly I’m clenching them. “Then maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to trick me.”
He slams his fist into the wall, the sharp crack echoing in the tense silence. “Don’t you get it? I’m trying to save your life. I know I messed up, but I won’t leave this room. I’ll stay here, fight for you.”
“Fight for me? Or fight for your own damn conscience?” I fire back. “Because it feels like you’re just trying to absolve yourself, not really considering what I need or want.”
“I get it,” he says, his voice cracking. “I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now how wrong I was. I’ve been so focused on saving your life, on what I thought was best, that I didn’t stop to think about what you deserve.”
“Cole,” I snap, “just get out!”
He looks at me like I’ve just torn his heart out, and for a moment, I almost falter. “If I walk away now, you’ll be alone with all that hurt, and I can’t bear that thought.”
I walk to the door where he’s standing, yanking it open for him to leave, but he slams it shut with a force that rattles the frame. I jump back, pressing my back against the wood, feeling the weight of his decision in every inch of my body.
I can’t bear the desperation in his eyes, the way they plead with me despite his frustration. “Get out!”
“Please,” he says, his voice a strained whisper. “Just let me be here. Even if I’m not sure how to make things right.”
He steps forward, his movements tentative but resolute, and my heart races as the gap between us closes.
In a rush of fury, I grab the dagger strapped to my thigh under my dress. Without thinking, it’s pointed at him.
His gaze follows the motion. He shows no reaction at all, telling me he’s not scared in any way.
I cock my head. “You’re not afraid.”
“Terrified.”
“How so?”
“You can hurt me in ways no one else can. You won’t ever need a dagger for it, Davina. Without lifting a finger, you could break and shatter me completely.”
He looks almost pleadingly at me, as if begging me to use the blade, urging me to use it.
Bastard.
Cole inches closer, and I have my dagger pressed to his throat in a second. For a moment, I wonder if I could actually bring myself to use it. “ Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
He doesn’t so much as wince, his eyes locked onto mine as the blade rests against his skin, his calm demeanor only fueling my anger further.
Swallowing, the muscle in his throat twitches against the blade. “Because,” he says quietly, “leaving you alone won’t change what happened. It won’t fix anything. And if you want to hurt me, please go ahead. I’m not going to move.”
My grip on the dagger tightens, my knuckles white against the hilt. The edge of the blade digs into his skin as he leans in, a small bead of blood forming where it presses.
I feel a rush of conflicting emotions—anger, sadness, and an aching sense of damn longing. “You think you’re so noble, so self-sacrificing,” I snap. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to leave .” I scream those words, but despite my anger and hurt, there’s a part of me that’s reluctant to push him away completely.
It’s maddening.
“I’ve failed you, and I know that,” he says slowly. “You deserve the world, and all I can offer is a small, broken piece of it. Damn it, I only wish I could find the right words to match the way you make me feel, because then you’d understand. I’d offer you a piece of my mind, but I’m pretty sure you’ve already stolen it.”
I pull my gaze up to meet his eyes bore into mine, waiting for me to say something, but I can’t.
“Please,” he whispers, the word barely audible. “I’m begging you. I swear on my life, I won’t ever disappoint you again.”
“You’re right. You won’t ever disappoint me again, because you won’t have the chance. I’m leaving.”
I try to move, but as I do, he suddenly collapses at my feet, his arms wrapping around my waist. His desperate grip yanks me back, and I hear him sob, the sound tearing at my heart.
“Please,” he begs. “I’m sorry, Davina. I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything. Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, “and I’ll do it.”
The rawness of it cuts through me, making it nearly impossible to walk away—part of me wants to reach down, to soothe the pain etched across his face, while the other part screams for me to leave.
I force myself to speak, to cut through the chaos in my heart. “Let go,” I say, my voice cracking. “Let me go, Cole.”
His tears soak through my dress, and his grip tightens as if he’s afraid I might die if he lets go.
I stand there, paralyzed by his breakdown. My eyes fill with tears of my own, the sound of his muffled sobs wrenching my heart with its intensity.
“Please,” he whispers, the word sounding hollow now.
“Please, what?” I ask, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Please, let you keep lying to me?”
“Please, let me worship you.”
“You don’t worship me.”
He looks up at me, his eyes brimming with despair. “I do.”
The words hang in the air, heavy with the truth I don’t want to admit.
“I worship you,” he whispers, “enough to know you deserve better.” His grip tightens, fingers clutching at the fabric of my dress as though holding onto me is his last shred of hope. “It’s embarrassing, how much I crave you.”
I look down at him, my eyes narrowing as I try to hold onto the anger that’s slipping through my fingers. “Crave me?” I scoff, rolling my eyes despite the tears streaming down my face. “You have a funny way of showing it—betraying trust. You didn’t seem to crave me when you were busy forcing me to kill someone. How convenient that you suddenly discovered your worship when you realized I was leaving.”
I see the impact of my words in the way he flinches, but I don’t stop.
“If you really want to do something for me, start by respecting my decision. Let me go. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
His grip on me loosens slightly, as if my words are a physical blow. “Please,” he whispers again, his voice a broken plea. “Do anything you wish to me—hurt me, use me, tear me apart. Take everything you need, do your worst. Put me through the worst you can imagine. I’m willing to endure anything. But please, don’t tell me to walk away when it’s the only thing I can’t do. Please ,” he repeats, his voice cracking, “don’t abandon me. Grant me the mercy of keeping you by my side. Just grant me the privilege of keeping you, even if it means suffering in your presence—to hold on to whatever fragments of us remain.”
The intensity of his plea cuts through me, and fresh tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “I can’t,” I say, fighting the rising tide of my own emotions. “This isn’t right. You deserve more than pain, and so do I.”
For a long moment, the room is silent, filled only with the quiet sobs that he tries to stifle.
“Get up,” I snap, the sight of him like this unbearable.
He hesitates, then slowly releases his hold on me. His movements are slow, as if standing up is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do.
His desperation turns into something darker as he rises to his feet, his eyes never leaving mine—red and wild with an intensity that could burn the world.
“No,” he says, his voice low. “I can’t lose you. You can run from me, hit me, spit on me, be the biggest brat, and tell me to go to fucking hell. I don’t care, I’ll always come back to you.”
“Cole—”
He shakes his head and steps closer, closing the distance I try to create. “I need you,” he breathes. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane.”
“This is obsession,” I say, my voice trembling. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
A dark, pained look crosses his face. “Yes, it is obsession. I can’t help it, Davina. I’ve tried to stop it. Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve tried, but every part of me screams that I need you. You’re in every breath I take. Everything I do is for you, even if it’s wrong.”
I open my mouth to respond, but his words cut through the fog in my mind.
“I know I’m asking for too much, but I don’t want?—”
“Then what do you want?” I ask, drawing a shaky breath and wiping away the tears on my cheeks with the back of my hand. “What is it you actually want?”
“You want honesty?” he snaps, pinning me against the wall.
My heart drops to the floor, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. His face is mere inches away from mine, his palm gripping my wrists tightly and shoving them above my head. His gaze drops to my lips, the intensity of his stare setting every nerve in my body on edge.
“You want to hear something real? ” His head falls back in a breathless laugh, and he lets out a sound so unhinged that I think he’s lost his mind entirely.
I swallow as he looks back at me, his gaze meeting mine with an intensity that makes my heart race even faster. His grip on my wrists tightens, a mix of desperation and control.
I nod, my throat tight, and I can barely think straight with the way his breath mingles with mine, hot and uneven.
“I want you as a friend. I want you as a lover. I want to be the reason why you smile. I want you to feel like something is missing when I’m not around. I want to occupy your mind as you do mine. I just want you to be mine , Davina. Selfishly, thoughtlessly, mine. I want you to want me as much as I fucking want you. Desperately .”
I blink, feeling dizzy from his words and how he screams them at me. I search his eyes, trying to find the line between love and madness.
“You think that’s all? I’m obsessed because I’m afraid. Afraid of a world where you’re not in it. Every waking moment I want you near me, even if it’s just to fight. Even when I tried not to like you, I wanted to own you.”
I try to talk, searching every cranny of my being to find the anger that I was hell-bent on holding on to, but I come up empty. I pry my tongue from the roof of my mouth and search for words to give, but they’ve all disappeared.
“I want to be deserving of you. I want you naked in my bed. I want to make you shiver from my touch. I want to hear your voice, breathless and shaky. I want to hear your laugh just as much as I want to hear your moan. I want you to say my name like a prayer, full of devotion. I want to be the one who makes your heart race, who knows your deepest secrets and loves you all the more for them.”
The words feel like they’re ripping me apart.
“I want to love you in a way that no one ever has or ever will. I want to be everything and nothing at once—your salvation, and your ruin.”
My heart drums in my ears, his words repeating over and over in my head like a mantra. It’s shocking how forcefully they hit me in the chest because I wanted to hear them for so long, but now that I actually hear them out of his mouth, it’s as if he strips me bare with them.
I search his face for any sign of hesitation, for a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but all I see is raw, unfiltered emotion. It’s as if he’s stripped away every fa?ade.
“I want…” he pauses, squeezing his eyes shut. “I want to leave such an imprint on your heart and soul that anyone who dares to touch you will know me just by looking into your eyes.”
I struggle to find my voice, but all that escapes is a shaky breath.
He reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as it grazes my cheek. “You’re the only divine thing I believe in. The only one in this cruel world who can destroy me.”
I swallow, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me, carving their way into my very soul as he lays his bare, both breathtaking and excruciating.
“You can hate me all you want, Davina, but you’re still fucking mine, just like I’m yours . Maybe I can’t make you forgive me, but if you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my miserable life making you feel so good that you’ll forget it ever happened.”
I want to hate him, to let the anger and betrayal consume me, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t bring myself to feel that way.
Maybe it’s not even a choice at this point.
Maybe it’s a curse—a cruel twist of fate that binds me to him.
“I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I’m asking for a chance.” His eyes search mine, as if weighing his next words carefully. “Do you realize,” he says softly, “that your powers only seem to manifest when you’re trying to defend or save me? Why do you think that is?”
It hits me all at once.
I don’t hate him.
Never have.
In fact, I’ve fallen in love with him.
Love is the swelling feeling in my chest every time I see him. Love is the sweet ache of longing that lingers when we’re apart. It’s the way I forget about everything else when he looks at me. Love is the catch in my breath when his eyes lock with mine with an intensity I’ve never witnessed before. Love is the sense of belonging I feel when I’m with him, like I’ve finally found the missing piece of my soul.
Love scares the hell out of me.
To be in love with someone means to confess you’re prepared to be devastated. And he could do it—God, he could do it and I would thank him for it. I would submit my body and soul to the disaster of being loved by him. I just realize there’s nothing he can do to make me stay away from him. I want to ruin him. I want to ruin him the same way he ruined me for every other person. There’s only him . I want him to split me open, to dig his fingers in and pry me open and fill me with his affection.
His eyes search mine again, desperate for a sign of forgiveness. And it’s the look in his eyes—the hopeful, terrified look in his eyes that nearly kills me.
“Punish me for my obsession, Davina.”
I reach up, a shuddering breath escaping me as I place my hand over his where it rests on my cheek. I hesitate, the truth heavy on my tongue.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean, or I’m going to lose it.”
“I mean every goddamn word I said,” he breathes, closing the last inches between us. “I want you more than my next breath, Davina. I just— fuck it .”
He crashes his lips to mine.
It’s devastating, almost painful in its intensity. It’s as if he’s trying to force his feelings into me, as if he’s trying to pour all his emotions into that kiss and straight into my mouth.
He pulls back abruptly, his eyes widening as he looks at me. “I’m sorry, I—” His voice is barely more than a whisper. “I shouldn’t have?—”
I’m left gasping for air, my heart pounding furiously in my chest—pounding with desire.
My fingers are gripping his shirt, clinging to him. I reach up, my hands sliding to the back of his neck and pulling him closer.
Suddenly, there’s no more hesitation, no more uncertainty. Waiting is a mistake. Waiting is the arrogant assumption that there will be a tomorrow.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers. “Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you, that I’m a bastard, and tell me how much you loathe me, tell me?—”
My lips find his again, silencing him.
He kisses me like he’s starving, and when his tongue pries open my mouth, I lose myself to the feeling, releasing all my emotions—all my anger, all my heartbreak.
He kisses me so deeply that I’m left breathless, and I dig my nails into his skull, afraid he might disappear if I don’t cling to him. “Keep kissing me until I grow weary of it,” I murmur against his lips, “until I’m reminded of why I should hate you. Kiss me until I’m utterly repulsed and find the strength to despise you.”
“Let me kiss you senseless, love. Let me kiss you into oblivion, to help you forget the pain, even if I’m the one who inflicted it.”
I gasp as he scoops me up and carries me to the fireplace, gently placing me on the soft rug.
His hands cradle my face, his thumbs brushing away the tears I don’t even realize are still falling. “I am selfish, demanding, and utterly unreasonable,” he admits. “But above all, I am devoted to you. When you’re tired, I will carry you; when you’re sick, I will tend to you; when you’re broken, I’ll piece you back together. I am humbled by you, and for you alone, I’ll be weak.”
I sit up, frantically climbing into his lap. The crackling fire fills the room with warmth as I sink into his hold, not getting enough of him. His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me close as his hand gently cups my throat.
“What are you doing to me?” I whisper, my heart racing as I look into his eyes.
“Just holding you,” he replies quickly, his voice a breathless whisper. I can see the surprise in his eyes as they widen, and for a fleeting moment, doubt clouds his expression. “Do you want me to stop? I?—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” I say, trying to find the right words to express how he makes me feel. “Don’t stop?—”
“I won’t. I want to hold you so close that the lines between us blur, until it’s impossible to tell where I end and you begin.”
My body trembles at the way he completely consumes me.
“I’m not hallucinating, am I?”
“No,” he murmurs. “You’re not.”
I run my fingers down his biceps, down his waist. Slipping beneath his shirt, I feel him shiver, and a low, appreciative groan escapes him.
“I want you to know that you’re enough,” he says, his hands never leaving my body, like he wants to brand me with his touch. “But I’ll always want more of you.”
“Your mouth is something else.”
“Wait until I show you what I can do with—” He groans as I settle my weight and press my hips into him, my lips breaking away at the feel of him hard beneath me.
The thought that I’m the one doing this to him sends a burst of satisfaction through me, and a smile spreads across my face.
He smiles back at me, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this,” he says, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear.
I kiss him—kiss that smile.
His fingers trace the line of my dress strap, his touch almost reverent. He pulls it down slowly, letting it slide off my shoulder while his lips follow, leaving a trail of kisses on my exposed skin.
I reach up to remove the other strap, revealing my breasts. He cups them, his thumbs gently stroking. Anticipation makes my skin prickle as his palm skims slowly along the hem of my dress. He slips underneath, his fingers traveling along my thighs until they reach my underwear.
My breath hitches.
I arch into him, my hips pressing against his hand, desperate for his touch to be more than just a tease.
“Take off your dress,” he says, his voice soft. “Slowly.”
I pull the dress over my head and let it fall, quickly unhooking my bra and dropping it to the floor.
It wasn’t slow at all.
His eyes devour me, and a curse escapes his lips.
I lie down on the rug, warmth spreading from my cheeks to my chest as his gaze caresses my body. The fire crackles in front of us, casting a flickering light, illuminating the room in a warm, golden glow.
“You are so impossibly beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. “It almost hurts to look at you.”
I revel in his words; at the way he looks at me as if he’s trying to etch this moment into his memory.
“You’ve ruined me,” he adds. “I’d choose endless torture over a single day without you, because being tortured is nothing compared to the agony of not having you by my side.”
My breath catches as his thumb dips beneath the waistband of my panties while he trails kisses along my throat.
“Tell me how to make you feel better,” he says, his voice a soft, urgent plea.
“Please,” I whisper, the need in my voice undeniable.
A sigh escapes me as he pushes the fabric aside, sliding his finger underneath and teasing me with gentle strokes. The sensation makes me shudder, my pulse racing as I grip the rug beneath me.
“Has anyone ever touched you here before?”
I shake my head, a flush of heat spreading across my cheeks. “No.”
“Have you ever touched yourself?”
I manage a nod.
“Did it feel good?”
“I don’t really… Yeah, I guess,” I breathe out.
“You’ve never had an orgasm before.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I give a self-conscious laugh, trying to mask my embarrassment. “I always thought it was a bit overrated anyway.”
He raises an eyebrow. “If you’ve never had one, how would you know it’s overrated?”
A slight chuckle escapes me, despite my embarrassment. “Maybe I’ve had one.”
“If you ever had an orgasm before, believe me, you would know.”
“What’s next? A lecture on how to make it happen?”
He leans in closer, a smirk widening into a full wicked grin. “Oh, I’m not much for lectures. I’d rather show you.”
His words are a promise, and the sudden sensation of his fingers rubbing my clit sends a surge of pleasure through me.
“Because you’re not leaving this room,” he continues, his tone dropping even lower, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, “until you know exactly what it feels like to come undone on my hands.”
I let out a soft moan as a reply. I’m too far gone, too consumed by the burning ache between my thighs to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.
I’m so wet that the tip of his finger slips inside me effortlessly; the intrusion is so sudden yet so welcomed that I can’t suppress the whimper that escapes my lips.
He stops, his eyes searching my face.
“Keep going,” I whisper, breathless, desperate for more. “Please—don’t stop.”
The silence is excruciating, and my lips part to beg, but before I can find the words, his mouth claims mine in a kiss, stealing what little breath I have left. He slowly starts to move his finger inside me, each thrust purposeful and unhurried. My fingers wrap tightly around his wrist, holding onto him as the steady rhythm of his movements begin to unravel me, leaving me dizzy with want.
“Cole, I—” I start, but my words are swallowed by a moan as he slides his finger out of me, only to let his thumb trace slow, deliberate circles over my clit once more.
His lips find mine again, swallowing my soft whimpers with a low, approving growl. “Look at you,” he rasps. “You look like a goddess, cheeks flushed, breathing my name like a prayer.”
I can barely focus on his words. The pleasure clouds my mind, making it difficult to pay attention to anything other than how he’s making me feel.
I feel his eyes on me, drinking in every response, every tremble, every moan. His lips trail down my neck, each kiss sending a fresh wave of heat through me. He stops for a moment, pulling back slightly, his gaze locking with mine as he withdraws his finger completely. Before I can protest, he’s moving lower, his broad shoulders spreading my thighs further apart as he settles between my legs.
My heart hammers in my chest, anticipation twisting my insides as his hands reach for the hem of my panties. He hooks his fingers into the fabric, tugging them down with agonizing slowness, baring me completely to him. I bite my lip, trying to steady my breathing, but it’s no use. My entire body is trembling with need, the ache between my legs growing more intense by the second.
His eyes gleam with something dark and hungry as he lowers himself, his lips brushing softly against the inside of my thigh, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me. It’s enough to make me whimper, my hips lifting off the rug, silently begging for more.
“Now,” he says, his hot breath teasing my skin, “let me show you what this mouth can do.”
His tongue flicks out and finds my clit, and the sensation is blinding, my body arching off the rug as his tongue begins to circle slowly, teasing me to the edge of sanity.
My body jerks in response, and I’m left gasping for air, a loud moan escaping my lips. “For heaven’s—” I gasp, my voice barely more than a pant as I tilt my head back, overcome by the waves of pleasure crashing through me.
He lets out a deep, satisfied groan against me, the vibrations making me shudder. “Fuck , ” he chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his throat. “I knew you would taste this good.”
I glance down at him, my gaze hazy, and the sight nearly unravels me. His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded with desire as he watches me, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes over my clit, lapping up the wetness that’s already pooling there.
It’s almost too much, and yet not enough at the same time.
His tongue lingers, swirling and flicking in ways that makes me pant, while two fingers slide into me with a slow, steady thrust. The combination makes me cry out, my body jerking in response as my hips move of their own accord, seeking more. The pressure inside me builds with each thrust of his fingers, and my whole body is trembling, a slave to his touch.
I can’t take my eyes off him.
I clamp my trembling thighs around his head, my hands tangling in his hair and tug as I watch him devour me like a man desperate to prove his worth.
“That’s it,” he groans, “eyes on me, Davina. I want to see your pretty face when you fall apart for me.”
His fingers curl, hitting a spot deep inside me that makes my toes curl. My body tightens, every muscle tensing as I teeter on the edge, my vision blurring as euphoria floods my veins.
“Be a good princess and let me hear you scream.” He runs his tongue over my clit once more, his fingers curling and hitting the spot again.
That’s all it takes.
My vision goes black, and my mouth opens, letting out a silent scream before I come undone. I cry out his name as I fall apart.
His lips brush softly against my clit, sending another wave of pleasure through me. He doesn’t pause, continuing to kiss his way slowly up my trembling thighs, making his way to my abdomen.
I struggle to gather my thoughts, to clear the lingering haze from my mind. I prop myself up on my elbows, my breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts as I try to focus on him. “Cole?”
His tongue swipes across his wet lips, a satisfied smile playing on his face. “Yes, darling?”
“I could get used to orgasms.”
I expect him to smirk, to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, he crawls back up my body and presses his lips to mine. His kiss is soft, almost hesitant. It’s full of apology, and I can taste the lingering regret and guilt on his lips. The confident man who knew exactly what he was doing just moments ago seems gone now, and I feel the unspoken plea, the unyielding need for absolution.
He deepens the kiss, desperation hidden beneath his tenderness as if he needs to feel that my acceptance is real—that it’s something more than just an illusion between us.
I sigh against his lips as his tongue meets mine. He pours everything into the kiss, as if he’s searching for redemption with every delicate stroke. My mouth moves in rhythm with his, and I let my forgiveness blend with his remorse.
Forgiving him is not about forgetting the pain; it’s about recognizing that he is where I feel at home, and I can’t stay angry at the place where my heart finds its peace. Forgiving is not forgetting, but remembering with less anger and more love.