Chapter Twenty-Nine Savannah
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Savannah
I let him in tonight, knowing he’d destroy me.
I told him to stay away. But deep down, I knew he wouldn’t. And right now, I need to feel his arms wrapped around me, to find comfort in his hunger and desire, to cling to the belief that I’m not a total and complete failure.
I don’t want to be alone tonight. Not after everything that happened today.
My heart shattered when I walked away from Miss Bea for the last time.
I’ve been wandering around here all day like a zombie, going through the motions of cleanup and care for the livestock, trying to figure out if I can rise above what’s gone so horribly wrong.
I still don’t have an answer for that.
So when I opened the door and saw Blaze standing there, the vulnerability in his expression, the desperation in his eyes, I realized how very similar we were in that moment, both of us struggling to hold ourselves together, both failing miserably.
Maybe we both need to be pieced back together. Maybe we need each other to do it.
We collapse against each other in a frenzy of hands tearing off clothes and hungry mouths devouring like we need the other to survive.
Blaze guides me into the kitchen, his jeans still half on, never taking his mouth off me.
My back slams into the counter. He lifts me onto the edge and pulls off my panties.
I rake my fingers down the front of his chest as he dips his head low, biting the soft flesh at the base of my neck. His beard scrapes against my prickled skin. I moan, my eyes floating closed, head falling backward as his lips scorch a path back to my mouth.
His tongue delves into my mouth and tangles with mine, coiling heat flowing into every cell, igniting latent sparks of lust that I never could fight against. I hug him tight, clinging to him like the lifeline I never wanted to take.
I can’t deny my need for this man anymore.
It’s overpowering and all consuming, and six years of pain did nothing to rid me of it.
I crave him . . . all of him. And I’m a total glutton for punishment because of him.
He shoves his jeans to his ankles and closes in on me.
The smooth head of his cock slides against my slit.
My eyes slowly open, the world around me fading to white noise as I gaze up at him through lowered lids.
With one arm roped around my waist and his other hand cupping my face, he stares at me, his caramel eyes molten and glowing.
“Savvie . . .” he whispers before capturing my lips once more. He thrusts into me, swallowing my gasp. My body tingles at his delicious intrusion.
God, why does he have to feel so good? Why does my body have to betray me every time he’s near?
He moves slowly, agonizingly, dragging his cock against my clit with each push and pull. My pussy wraps around him like a glove, slick, wet, and aching for the release that only he can give me. And with him buried so far inside of me, I’m not sure where he ends and I begin.
Right now, I don’t know that there’s a distinction. All I know is being with him like this is right and perfect, in spite of all the hurt feelings and problems that come with it. My body just isn’t complete without him . . . inside me, beside me.
And judging by the intensity in his heavy gaze, I know he feels the same way.
It’s wrong. So wrong.
But I don’t care. I accepted the consequences when I let him through that door a few minutes ago.
Sex and sin, darkness and temptation.
He’s everything, and my battle against him has been long lost.
His fingertips press into my spine, digging into the small of my back.
My hips buck against him, meeting him thrust for thrust until sparks pop between my ears and my insides quiver.
He finds my spot . . . always . . . and relentlessly drives deeper.
The pressure builds in my core, the rush of sensations short-circuiting my brain, consuming every cell.
White-hot flames of something so primal rage through me like an inferno of lust. His scent clings to me, clouding my head, infusing me with every breath I take.
A scream pierces the silence. My scream. And I spiral into a kind of blissful euphoria that I’ve fantasized about every day we’ve been apart.
He pulls me flush against his chest, filling me as his orgasm erupts. We hold each other tight like we can’t bear the thought of our reality tearing us apart.
Tears sting my eyes. I bury my head in his chest, our bodies entwined, locked together without any plans to break apart.
Except that’s not our reality.
Our reality can only be goodbye.
I finally bring myself to pull away, fixing my pajama top while he tugs on his jeans and zips himself up.
Swallowing the sob building in my throat, I hop off the counter and grab my pajama pants and robe so I can finish getting dressed.
“I need some air,” I rasp, hugging the robe around me.
I grab the tin of cookies I baked earlier, slip my feet into my slippers, and walk out onto the porch before sinking onto one of the faded-wicker chaise longues.
Collapsing against the cushion, I pull the lid off the tin and breathe in the familiar scent of Ms. Eloise’s cookies.
I take a bite of one of the cookies and stare up at the stars the way we used to do so long ago, sharing secrets and stories and hopes and dreams.
I hold the tin out to him when he appears, like anything about this is normal.
I did a fair amount of grief baking after the morning chaos at Red Rock. I needed to do something with my hands, to take my mind off what I lost. But sweets can’t soothe my wounded soul. They can’t bring back what I want.
Even if what I want more than anything is standing right on my porch.
He may as well be a mirage.
Blaze clears his throat. But there’s nothing he can say to make this better or easier.
Giving him an ultimatum and trying to force him to stay with me was stupid and desperate. I’m not that naive girl anymore. But ironically, in the process of finding a new purpose here at Red Rock, I’ve lost touch with the strong and independent woman I’ve become.
“What are we doing?” I finally ask when the silence becomes thick enough to choke me.
“I don’t know,” he says.
I snap my head around to look at him. “That’s not good enough anymore. You have to give me something, Blaze. Something true, for once.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Savannah—”
“No. Don’t give me more excuses. I just slept with you. Again. Even though every instinct told me to slam the door in your face and run.” I sit up on the longue, my eyes narrowed on him. “So you owe me honesty. No cryptic bullshit. The truth. Why you left. Why you came back.”
His gaze falls to the floor and he nods. “You’re right. You do deserve that.”
All the air seems to deflate out of his lungs as he sinks down next to me.
“There’s a lot I never told you, a lot that happened in my family after my mom died.
Not even Nash, Colt, or Wyatt knows the whole story.
I kept it to myself. Felt like it was my burden to handle.
I didn’t want to drag anyone else into my shitstorm. ”
I sit up straighter. “Okay . . .”
He leans forward, clasping his hands together. “After Mom died, my dad fell apart. Started drinking, made bad choices about our family’s business. He racked up gambling debts he couldn’t pay. So he got involved with the wrong guy, borrowed money to settle all the debts.”
He pauses, but I resist the urge to touch him. Instead, I study his chiseled profile in the moonlight, waiting for him to say more.
“But he just kept making bigger and bigger mistakes, generating huge debts that could never be paid off.” He turns his head to look at me. “This man who lent him money is a criminal, Savvie. He’s involved with all kinds of crimes—extortion, smuggling, money laundering.”
“So what did your dad do?”
“He made a deal with the guy. Offered me up to work off the debts on his behalf.”
My stomach clenches in a knot, and I recoil. “Wait, so your father basically handed you, his teenage son, over to a crime syndicate? To save his own ass?”
Blaze sighs. “Yeah. But he thought it’d be a couple of jobs and the debt would be cleared. But that’s not how these crime rings work.”
“What did you do? And for how long?” I can barely croak out a whisper.
“I worked for him for a couple of years. I did transport, mostly. And I didn’t ask questions.
Guys like that just want you to do the job and shut up about it.
Squeaky wheels get fucking crushed. I saw that firsthand.
He didn’t like it when anyone challenged him or showed any signs of weakness.
So to protect my family . . .” His eyes cloud over.
“. . . and you . . . I did what I needed to. I figured after those two years, I’d be done.
I tried to control everything that was spiraling for so long, until it was too much.
And I left for the military because I needed to get away from it all, get away from my father, start fresh somewhere else. ”
“Right after my parents’ funeral,” I mutter.
“The timing sucked, but it was something I had to do. I couldn’t breathe here anymore.
It was too toxic. And I figured with me being gone, all the shit with the crime syndicate would have fizzled.
” He scrapes a hand down the front of his face.
“But it didn’t. It followed me overseas.
My dad fucked up again, and when it came time to pay up, he gave the guy my contact information instead, and he put me to work. ”
“I don’t understand. How could this syndicate control you overseas?”
“That’s the thing about criminals. They have wide nets and big networks. So I ran side jobs and sent money back home. Someone in my platoon found out what I was doing the night when a deal went sideways, and I got caught.”
He stares up at the sky, and in the light, I swear I see tears pooling in his eyes.
It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.