Chapter 13 #3
“After Lucas found them, he put them on his payroll. I hadn’t met Bobby Delgado until that evening.
Lucas sent them far away for a while, to keep them out of sight.
When they found you—that’s when the pieces snapped into place.
I knew someone had beaten you, humiliated you, and defiled you, but back then Lucas kept me on a tight leash. I couldn’t go looking for them.”
“Nikky… So is Nikky still working for your brother?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know what’s the worst part?” I look deep into his eyes. “The fact that I’m not afraid of you, Baker.”
“Because you know I’d never hurt you.”
I press my index finger to his lips.
“And I don’t feel like there’s anything wrong with this.
With you and me being together. With us.
Even though… You caused so much damage. You soured my life, shattered me to pieces.
You used me. Imprisoned me. And no matter how much I want to protest against what’s happening between us right now, I can’t.
And I’m horrible, because I’m hurting Cyrus even though I don’t want to.
But I did cry… His touch made me shiver.
” I shudder. “But it shouldn’t be like this.
He’s good to me, while you…” I shake my head.
“The way he touched me, the way he entered me… it felt like punishment. I know we’re running from a lunatic, but this trip…
it’s like I’m starting a new chapter in my life.
With you. I’m happy. I’m free, because—”
“—this is what you’ve been waiting for these past nine years. And you know it. You’re just not ready to accept it,” he finishes for me. I look down.
“How do you know that I’ve been…”
“Your eyes, Grace. They gave you away—just like they’re giving you away right now.”
“I’m confused. This shouldn’t be like this.
I shouldn’t be here with you. That day you and Nikky broke into my home, I really wanted to kill myself, because I…
Because I can’t love you. But at the gas station, I felt like I could be the girl who disappeared in the summer of 2000.
But after what happened—after what you did…
it would feel like I was betraying my family. ”
“No one matters, Grace. Only you and me,” he says in his deep, resonant voice. He tilts his head against mine. Our noses brush.
Even though I want him to, he will never tell me my deep, intense feelings for him are wrong.
I can see in his eyes that he thinks this is right.
He sees us differently—he sees me differently.
He always believed he was protecting me by locking me away.
And in part, he was. Mr. Miller’s dirty advances wouldn’t have stopped…
And if I hadn’t left, Bobby Delgado could never have laid a finger on me.
“Where are your parents?”
“Mom died when I was five.”
“And your dad?”
“He died thirteen years later.”
“I won’t feel sorry for you.”
“I’m not asking you to.” He licks his full lips, dragging my attention the way a light draws moths—or the way blood draws predators.
His lips part, slow and deliberate. His deep, resonant voice sends a soft shiver through my body.
My heart climbs into my throat, and butterflies fill my stomach, fluttering their damaged wings in a frantic blur.
“The right thing would be to be with Cyrus, right? That’s what your mind is telling you. But what is your heart whispering?”
He leans down to my neck and places a gentle kiss on my sensitive skin.
My nipples tighten, and my womb clenches.
His fingers trail along my side, agonizingly slow.
Sexual tension blurs my vision. I grind against his muscular thigh, chasing the slow, rhythmic roll of his hips.
My blood is ablaze with desire, and the ache between my legs throbs out of control.
“I need you,” I whisper against his wet lips. His deep brown eyes glint with a dark, dangerous obsession in the moonlight. He grabs my ass and pulls me closer. Down there, only our clothes keep us apart. I let out a muffled moan.
Chase loses control of his body and emotions. The sleeping beast is waking. He wants to possess me with unstoppable intensity—his fingers rake through my hair with raw hunger. He kisses me with a fevered, unhinged fervor. He takes control of me.
This isn’t just desire. This is what Mom felt for Dad. It’s love. Our love. Because desire fades after a while, but love has stayed with us. Waiting.
I climb out of his lap and slip out of my shoes.
His eyes follow the delicate movements of my fingers.
I unbutton my jeans and slide them down my legs.
The chilly air makes me shiver, but when our gazes meet and I see the look in his eyes—roaring with desire like a bonfire—a wave of warmth spreads over me.
His eyes always drank me in.
He shoves off his jeans and underwear. I climb back into his lap, trembling, and grind against him.
He lifts his hips to sink even deeper into me.
The hard wooden board presses into my knees, and the friction is wearing my skin raw.
It burns, it itches, I bleed but I don’t care—wounds on my body always heal quickly.
And the wounds on my soul? They’re scabbing over this very moment.