I backed her against the wall and took her face in my hands. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
Her breath hitched, and her hands wrapped around my wrists, but she didn’t say anything.
I gripped her harder. “You’re not alone, you hear me? You will never be alone. I’m always going to be here for you. Always.”
Her grief, her tears, the tension in her muscles—it all stilled.
Then she stood on tiptoe and her lips landed on mine.
First shock, then eight years of blind fucking need surged, and I let loose. Growling with repressed desire and want, so much fucking want, I roared as I slammed my body against hers and shoved my tongue into her mouth.
Sweet fucking Jesus.
My hands tangling in her hair, my tongue dominating, I didn’t kiss her. I fucking took.
I took her kiss.
I took her grief.
And I took her fucking trust.
For one unbelievable moment, I had everything I’d ever wanted.
My cock surged, my hips ground into hers, and I kissed her how I’d always wanted to. Then reality hit and I destroyed everything.
I ripped my undeserving mouth from hers and stepped back. Shattering her illusion of who I was, I rubbed the back of my hand over my mouth and prayed like fuck I didn’t break her worse. “I’m sorry.”