Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
"You lost part of yourself."
"Yeah," she whispers. "I got so used to being the perfect little angel that everyone started to believe it. Now, everyone treats me like I'm this untouchable little good girl, and I hate it so much. And I don't blame my sisters for that, Bronx. It's not their fault. It's mine for allowing it to happen."
"You were just a kid, beautiful," I murmur, rubbing her back.
"So were they. They remember what we went through. They remember taking care of me and being afraid I would die if they didn't do a good enough job. And they remember us being separated when they finally had to ask for help. I hate that they remember those things."
"Hey." I shift her around until she's straddling my lap. "Your sisters won't love you any less if you aren't this perfect version of yourself that you've created. They won't hate you if you're sassy, feisty, and adventurous. They won't hate you if you like rough sex, being tied up, or being called dirty names in this room. You don't have to share any more or any less than you want to share about what we do. But slowly killing yourself trying to be this thing you aren't isn't going to keep them from worrying, baby. They're your sisters. They worry because they love you. They're always going to worry. That's what it means to love someone."
"I know," she whispers. "That's why I came to the club last night. I'm not even sure what I was looking for here. I just…I guess I just wanted someone to see me for once."
"I see you." I cup her cheek. "I haven't seen anything but you since you walked through the doors."
"I know," her voice is a tiny scrap of sound. "Why doesn't that scare me, Bronx? No one has ever seen me, but you do."
"It doesn't scare you because you know you're safe with me. You know I'd fucking kill for you." I run my thumb along her bottom lip. "You know my heart was meant for you."
"Does that scare you?"
"Not in the least."
She smiles, lighting up like a fucking supernova. "It doesn't scare me, either."
"The fact that my heart was meant for you?"
"The fact that it's already mine."
I drag her toward me, claiming her mouth in a hard kiss. She may think she isn't perfect, but she's wrong. She may not be the well-behaved little angel that she's always pretended to be, but God broke the mold when He made her. There isn't a single other person on this earth that competes. They don't even come close.
I kiss her until she's writhing on my lap and then pull back, cupping her cheeks between my hands. "It is yours, Gemma. Every single inch of it."
"Good." She beams at me, a little bit angel, a little bit devil. "Then I'll get back to you in three business days about mine."
I growl, dipping her backward over the tub.
She squeals, her green eyes bright with happiness.
"I'm just kidding!" she cries, clinging to my neck like she thinks I'm going to drop her into the water. "I'm just kidding!"
"That's what I thought," I mutter, hauling her back into my arms.
"I only need two business days."
I smack her ass. Her laughter rings out around the bathroom, filling my heart. If anyone had told me yesterday that I'd have her tied to the bed an hour ago, fucking her raw only to be laughing in the tub with her now, I'm not sure I would have believed it. But this right here? This is everything.
I brush my lips across her temple, settling her back on my lap. For long moments, I just hold her, reveling in the peace flowing between us. I don't think I've felt anything remotely close to peace since the last time I stepped onto the field. This is a thousand times stronger.
"What did you like about tonight, beautiful?" I ask, trying to steer the conversation back on track. We've drifted so far, we're on an entirely different train at this point. But I don't want to leave this for later. It's important that we talk it through now and she has a chance to process. If we're going to do this, I want to do it as close to right as we can. With her, the rulebook went out the fucking window before I even had a chance to crack it open, but certain things are too important to mess with. Communication is one of those things.
I'm not going to jeopardize what's between us by not creating a safe space for us to talk about what we do. Fuck that. I'm not letting her go, and I'm not going to fuck it up by taking her pleasure for granted.
"Everything," she says immediately. "I loved everything about it, Bronx." And then she bites her lip.