The weight in my cock was undeniable. I was on the precipice of orgasm, waiting, prolonging the inevitable, wishing she would come with me, needing her to come with me.

I was about to release my hand from hers to push against her clit when her chest arched up into mine and she gasped.

Like a fucking vice, her pussy clenched around me and an indescribable sound departed from her enticing lips. She rocketed against me, screaming my name as tears fell from her eyes.

That was all it took. I felt from the rumble of my stomach to the base of my cock the explosion of my pleasure inside of her.

“Fuck…!” I roared as I pounded into her until she milked me dry.

I slowed my hips down as my cock continued to throb inside her. Her breathing evened out, and that’s when I realized I’d buried my head in her shoulder. Slowly, I picked my head up and smiled at her.

“You’re so fucking sexy when you come,” she said as her erect nipples teased my chest.

“I can say the same about you, baby.”

Chapter Fifteen

My present…

Hundreds of cracks covered the plaster ceiling of Lyla’s apartment, just another feature that bothered me about where Lyla lived. I stroked her back as she pressed against me, resting her head on my shoulder and running the tips of her fingers along the ridge of my abdomen.

No words were spoken as we lay in her twisted sheets, the moonlight shining through her window and on our slightly sweaty bodies.

The silence was welcome. It was necessary for my beating heart, my uneasy thoughts of what was to come next. I didn’t want to talk about the future—whether I was staying the night, whether I would be able to get out of her bed and leave.

With my spare hand, I rubbed the top of my head, agonizing over my feelings for her, my desire to keep her near but my urgency to push her as far away from me as possible.

“Are you thirsty?” she asked.

“I’m all right,” I replied, feeling awkward.

“I need a drink.” She pushed off my chest and crawled across the bed butt naked and then walked out of the room, wiggling her ass for me in the most delicious way.

Once she was gone, I groaned and pulled on the strands of my hair. What the fuck was I thinking? Inner turmoil churned as I weighed my options. One part of me kept telling me to leave, get the fuck out of her apartment while I still had a shred of protection around my black soul. The other part of me yearned to hold her all night long.

With a racing heart, I threw the sheets aside and was getting out of the bed when Lyla reappeared. Her hair was mussed from my fingers, her lips swollen from my unyielding kisses, and her eyes sated from my lovemaking. She was a completely satisfied woman with a kind understanding coming from her eyes.

“Leaving?” she asked, leaning against the wall of her room and sipping a glass of water. She didn’t look upset or mad, almost like she’d expected me to want to go.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. I wasn’t sure what the fuck I wanted. I’d never been so unsure about something in my life.

Staring at her fucking amazing body and beautiful personality, I knew I didn’t deserve her. The moment I’d taken a man’s life, I’d sworn I would never be happy again, that I would serve my repentance and then die on this earth alone, so why was I half kneeling on Lyla’s bed, considering doing something I had no right to?

“What does it say?” Lyla asked, nodding at the tattoo on my ribs.

“Nothing of importance,” I answered, turning so it wasn’t so visible.

Indignation passed over Lyla’s features as she placed her cup of water on the floor near the window and walked toward me. My gaze fell to the floor to avoid the beautiful sway of her hips and the way her plump breasts tried to capture my attention. If I didn’t look down, I was going to be swept up in her body again, a mistake I so desperately wanted to entertain.

She grabbed hold of my shoulders and pushed me down on the bed. Like a fucking leaf in the breeze, I floated to the mattress, not putting up a fight. I was too damn weak, too damn desperate for human contact to fend her off.

I was a desolate man, broken and battered and clinging to the one thing I knew would ruin me.

Lyla straddled my hips, keeping her heated core away from my growing erection, torturing me by not giving my cock what it wanted. I was too engrossed in what she was doing to notice her hands running up the side of my ribcage.

“Seeking Repentance,” Lyla read, softly trailing her fingers over the black ink that branded my body. Her soft gaze found mine and her head tilted to the side in question. “What are you seeking repentance for, Kace?”

My eyes quickly shut as I tried to block out the question, tried to ignore the fact that she was digging further and further into my fucking soul.

I didn’t talk about my past to anyone. I barely spoke to Jett, the man who knew the whole story, about it. It was a general understanding that we didn’t talk about it. The only time we ever reflected on my actions was on the anniversary of the day my soul had died, no other time.

“Kace, it will help to talk about it.”

“It won’t,” I gritted out. I pushed Lyla to the side and sat up. My elbows rested on my legs while I bent my head down and gripped my hair. The once euphoric yet confusing feeling vanished at the mention of my tattoo, and in its place was a cold, dark void, the emptiness I counted on to help me through my days.

My pain was much easier to forget than relive.

Small hands rested on my back while the bed dipped behind me. Lyla gripped me from behind and wrapped her arms around my waist.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled as she ran kisses up my back.

I went stiff from her tender touch. I didn’t deserve this, this warm, caring woman. What did she even see in me? “Don’t. Don’t fucking apologize,” I swore, hating myself.

She gripped me tighter and her warmth started to penetrate my cold exterior, melting me in her arms.

She encouraged me to lie down. I told myself to get up instead, to grab my clothes and get the fuck out of her place, but my body betrayed me and rested on one of her pillows. Lyla settled into my side and wrapped an arm around my waist. I moved my hand to her hair and ran my fingers through it.

A lump settled in my throat as I studied the cracks of her ceilings again and our breathing evened out. Why couldn’t I let this woman go?

“You’re not alone, Kace,” Lyla said, breaking the silence between us. “You’re not the only one with demons.”

This wasn’t the first time Lyla had mentioned something from her past. I knew there had to be something that happened in her life, that had her turning to the life she held now. A part of me wanted to know her story, wanted to help fix her problems, protect her and give her everything she needed, but how could I help her when I couldn’t help myself? She wanted a whole man, someone to stand by her side, to fight and walk through this dark world with her.

I wasn’t that man.

“You don’t have to talk,” Lyla said, rubbing my side. “You don’t even have to ask any questions. I just need you to know where I’m coming from. I wanted you to know you’re not alone, Kace.”

There was no way in hell our stories were even close to being similar, but it was hard to resist what she was offering. Even though I knew I had to distance myself, I still wanted to know about her.

Instead of answering her, I pulled her closer, savoring the way her breasts felt against me, the way her nipples were puckered even though I wasn’t trying to turn her on.

“I didn’t always live in poverty, scraping for every last cent,” she said. I tensed, wondering if I really wanted to hear this. “It was me and my dad my entire life. My mom wasn’t interested in being a mom, which was fine because I would rather have no mom than a mom who lived with me but never gave me an ounce of attention. My dad gave me all the attention I needed.”