by Layla Frost
My angel looked broken.
And fuck if that didn’t make me hard.
I could’ve stood there for the rest of my life and watched her, but there were other things I wanted to do with her. And before I could, we needed to talk.
Not wanting to startle her into hitting her head on the cabinet above, I backtracked a few steps and kicked off my shoes.
When I returned, she was still on her back but had turned her head to look at me. Her smile was so big, so damned beautiful, it hurt to look at.
“You’re home,” she whispered before her smile wobbled and fell. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over to track down her cheeks. “We’re over.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
* * *
Give In
Eden
Holy shit, I said it.
I did it.
Why did I say it?
Oh yeah, because I’m fucked-up. And not just the drunk kind—though I’m that, too. No, I’m all sorts of levels of fucked-up, and so is Damien.
And together we’re just a sizzling, crackling, detonation-waiting-to-happen of fuck-upped-ness.
So, I did it.
And it hurts so bad.
Standing in the doorway, pain marred his handsome face, but his voice was eerily calm. “What’d you just say?”
“I said we’re over.” I sat up, my head swimming.
“No.”
“You can’t just say no.”
He gave me a look that said that was exactly what he could do. “Ignoring that asinine comment, let’s go back to the beginning. Why do you think we’re over?”
“Because.” My chest burned, my breath coming in little sobs. “It’s just… I mean…”
“Why, Eden?” he asked as he approached.
I held out my hand, and surprisingly, he actually stopped. “This was a lot different in my head before I had to look at you,” I muttered, closing my eyes.
They shot back open when his fingers curved around the side of my throat and pushed against my jaw. “Why?”
“Because,” I repeated, focusing on his ear.
He moved his head so my gaze was locked with his. “Tell me why or I’ll bend you over this counter, spank your ass raw, and then tie you to the bed until you remember where you belong.”
“It’s just—”
“Why?”
“I was thinking, and—”
“Why?”
I made a frustrated growl. “I’m trying to tell you why.”
“No, you’re trying to give me bullshit, preplanned lines. Why the hell do you think this is over?”
“I’m—”
“Why?”
“Because I’m fucked-up!” I yelled, chucking the wine glass at the wall. It shattered, the tiny shards flying out like beautifully painful pieces of glitter.
His brows lowered, his concerned gaze darting from the glass to me. “Okay, angel. We’ll talk tomorrow after you sleep this off.”
“I’m not drunk. Well, a little. But I’m fucked-up. And if you’re waiting for me to not be, you’ll be waiting forever, because I’ll always be fucked-up. I accused you of being how you are for some bullshit reason, but it’s me. I’m weak!” I sobbed, whispering, “I’m weak.”
Damien tried to pull me into his arms, but I shook him off.
“What bullshit did they fill your head with?” he whispered.
He knows.
Of course he knows, he always does.
“Nothing,” I lied. “This is about me. Us.”
I tried to get down, but Damien gripped my hips, holding me in place.
When I looked up to demand he let me go, he wasn’t Damien.
He was Professor Caine.
“Tell me,” he ordered.
Opening my mouth, I wanted to lie, but instead blurted, “I was just so damn lonely.”
That time when I looked to the side, it wasn’t so he wouldn’t see my lies. It was so I didn’t have to see his reaction to my truths.
I fidgeted with the hem of his tee that I wore. “I’m being dramatic. My childhood wasn’t bad. Not compared to what a lot of people go through. We lived in a big house with help. There were always parties and dinners and all that. And every Sunday, there we sat, Noah, Ruth, and Eden in the front pew at church. It didn’t matter that my mom snuck in her own version of holy water or that my dad would close every business in town to save himself a nickel, people thought we were the perfect American family.”
Damien didn’t speak, just reached out to rub my cheek.
Leaning into his touch, I let myself soak in the warmth of physical contact while I could. “It was all an act. My dad ignored my mom and me unless he had an event to parade us around at. My mom drank and pretended she didn’t know my dad was sleeping with any woman who moved. We didn’t spend time together. No affection or emotions. They didn’t even fight.” My shoulders bunched as I remembered the oppressive tension that’d filled the house.
I glanced up at Damien to see his eyes widen and his brows raise. The look was gone just as fast.
“What were you thinking?” I asked.
“Nothing, angel.” He massaged my shoulders, and though I knew I should move away, I couldn’t force myself to. “That sounds like hell.”
“I ran away when I was fifteen, but it was impulsive and poorly planned. It took the cops all of three hours to find me. Three hours freedom for three more years of coldness, only that time it was so much worse because my,” I raised my fingers to do quotes, “‘stunt’ cost me what little freedom I’d had. They controlled everything I did, what I said, who I spent time with. Up until recently, they were still controlling where I lived and what I did, even if it was indirectly because I was trying to stay away from them. Wanna hear something sad?”
He nodded, though he stayed silent. I could’ve kissed him for his patience and the way he let me get it all out rather than trying to fix anything, but since I was ending it, there’d be no kissing.
“When girls my age were daydreaming about boys and dances, I used to imagine beating him in an election. Then I decided I liked the behind the scenes stuff better than having to always pretend I was perfect, so I used to think about my dad being busted for corruption while I helped a new, honest governor get elected. I wanted to prove to him that I was better.”
“You are better. Infinitely better than them both.”
Even I could hear the fierceness in my voice when I said, “But I wanted to prove it. So, I planned. Meticulously. Patiently. I applied for colleges I wanted to attend using my best friend’s address and my own for the ones I had no interest in. When she slipped me the large envelope with the postage mark from Boston, I knew it was where I wanted to be.”
Where I was meant to be.
“I took off the day I graduated and didn’t see my parents again until they showed up in your class.” Shrugging, I admitted, “They likely knew where I was the whole time, they just didn’t care. I was cool with that.”
“What happened when you were fifteen?”
Shit.
“Nothing really.”
“You lived in that hell all your life, then spur of the moment, you took off?” He shook his head. “What happened?”
“Tell me what you were thinking first,” I negotiated.
“You don’t like being ignored.”
“Who does?”
“Okay, but you really don’t like it. You got upset enough to ask to be punished. I noticed and haven’t ignored you since, but I wasn’t sure why your reaction was so strong. Now I know.”
“Being in trouble is awful,” I said, tears suddenly burning my eyes. “But feeling as though you don’t matter enough to get a reaction is worse.” A sob tore through me. “I don’t want to be invisible to you.”
“Fuck, angel.” That time when Damien tried to gather me into his arms, I didn’t just let him.
I clung to him.
“Since the first day you stepped into my class, no matter how I tried to fight it,
I’ve always seen you.” Cupping my cheeks, he leaned me back so he could meet my eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry I ever made you feel otherwise because you’ll never be invisible to me.”
Overwhelmed, I buried my face in his chest, taking long, shuddery breaths as I fought to get control of my tears.
Damien didn’t speak for a while, just rubbed my back soothingly. Once I was settled, he ordered, “Tell me what happened, Eden.”
He’s not gonna drop it, and I just wanna go home and sink into an ice cream-vodka-Netflix spiral.
Keeping hold of his arms, I sat up. “I overheard my parents talking about how I was going to marry a senator’s grandson. It’d already been decided. There was no question. No regard for my feelings. Marrying the grandson meant my dad would have an in with the senator and his group. Then when the senator retired, my dad would be the obvious choice. It was a big step up the political path, and he was fine with basically prostituting me out to give him a boost. I know they couldn’t have forced me. It’s not like arranged marriages are legal. But…” I shook my head. “My dad had been so nice. I thought it was because he’d changed, but it was an act. He was on his best behavior because the senator and his family were coming to our Labor Day picnic.”
The betrayal stabbed through me, hurting almost as bad as it had back then.
Forcing myself to release him, I put as much distance between us as I could. It wasn’t much because Damien’s grip stayed strong, so I pulled away emotionally. Shutdown like I used to.
“So we’re over,” I summed up.
He looked livid, but he kept his voice soft. “Because your parents were assholes, you think we’re over?”
“No, because you take care of me.” My mask slipped as I grimaced hard, and for a second, I thought I was actually going to be sick. “Not that you’re a replacement for them.” I shuddered and joked, “I’m fucked-up, but not Freudian-Oedipus levels.”
He didn’t smile. “Run me through your thought process on why me taking care of you is bad, because you’ve lost me and your mind.”
“Hey.” I crossed my arms and glared up at him. “That’s the kind of thing that’s supposed to go unsaid.”
“It needs to be said if you’re crazy enough to think I’m letting you go.”
My stomach swooped and flipped, but I tried to ignore it as I pulled my mask back on. “I knew my parents couldn’t make me marry that guy, but I ran away because I also knew I would’ve eventually done it. They would’ve kept pushing until I married him, moved into the house next door to them, and popped out enough babies to make our own Kennedy-esque dynasty.”
Damien’s hold tightened as he yanked me to him, closing the minimal distance I’d achieved. His face lowered to mine until his angry midnight eyes were all I could see. “The only person putting babies in you is me.”
There was no amount of disassociating that could’ve prevented that sentence from hitting me in the heart and regions farther south. My pulse raced, my imagination running amuck.
Damien was knocking my walls down faster than I could rebuild them.
“No, you don’t get it.” Tears of frustration, bitterness, and remorse welled again. “You were right earlier. I wouldn’t have taken the internship. I’d have assumed it was only offered because we’re sleeping together. Or that you only wanted me to have it because you were working some angle. If it weren’t for you setting it up like you had, I’d have missed out on such an amazing opportunity. I’m happy you did it.”
“I’m still missing the problem, angel. Help me understand.”
“I was a prop to them, and I could’ve lost myself because I tried to be who they wanted. Now I’m losing myself because I just do what everyone says. I let you take care of me. I can’t even be trusted to make my own decisions. I’m weak.”
In the face of my confession and my tears, I’d have expected Damien to balk or be sweetly polite or maybe even tell me to suck it up.
What I’d never have anticipated was for him to laugh in my face.
Hard.
“My depraved angel,” he said tenderly before throwing his head back to laugh some more.
It’s a shame we’re over and he’s laughing at me because he’s got a good laugh and he looks amazing when he does it.
“I don’t think this is very funny.”
“The idea that you’d actually do what you were told is funny on its own, but that you’d mindlessly obey what anyone says is fucking hilarious. I can’t even get you to do what I say, and you want to do it. You are, by far, the most stubborn, strong-willed, infuriating woman I’ve met in my life.”
“Gee, thanks,” I muttered sarcastically.
His fingers dug into my hips. “You know it makes me hard as hell, so don’t pretend like it’s not a compliment.” Some of the heat left his gaze as it softened, warming as he smiled at me with affection and something else.
Something that looked a lot like pride, though I wasn’t sure why.
I didn’t have to wonder long.
Releasing my hips, he reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear. “You’re also, by far, the strongest person I’ve ever met. You gave up everything, moved across the country, and worked yourself ragged. If you were strong enough to do that, there’s no way you’d have conceded and married that bastard. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“I ran,” I whispered.
“You got away from something toxic. That’s not running. That’s being strong enough to stand up for yourself because you know you deserve better.”
His words rocked me to my very core. I’d never thought about it like that. In my head, I was nothing but a coward, fleeing from my problems.
He wasn’t done. “You’ve never let me take care of you. It’s like pulling tree trunks with tweezers to get you to let me do anything, and even then, I usually have to use sexual manipulation.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. You’re so damn independent.” He pushed my hair back. “Always in your head. Always thinking about life like a chess match, trying to work out my next three moves so you can plan your next five. You love what we do, but you spend most of the time fighting against loving it.”
“I shouldn’t love it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s wrong.”
“Says who?”
I had no answer. No matter what the topic, someone in the world would find fault with it. It didn’t make them correct. It just meant there was a lot of judgement from a lot of people who were probably doing much worse.
“The only opinions I care about are ours,” he said. “And you’ve never trusted me enough to actually let me take care of you to see if you like it, so your opinion doesn’t count, either.”
“I have so,” I insisted. Pausing for a moment, I tried to navigate my hazy wine-brain before adding, “I think.”
“There’s no think about it, angel. When you actually give in…” He closed his eyes like he was savoring a fine scotch and a decadent dessert. “It’ll be something so beautiful, there’ll be no doubt.”
Fidgeting with the hem of the shirt, I whispered, “I’ll lose myself.”
“Never,” he vowed. “I want you to trust me with all that weight you carry around on your shoulders so that never happens.”
“You want to break me.”
“So fucking badly.”
“So you can rebuild me. Change me.”
“What the hell would I change? You’re already perfect,” he said, rough and fervent. “I want to break you so you let me past all those walls you have up. I want to consume your thoughts. I want to be your addiction. Your obsession. I want you to feel what I feel and need me even a fraction as much as I need you.” His midnight eyes seared into mine, his voice pleading. “Give in. Trust me to take care of you because I love you, Eden.”
Everything stopped—my breath, my heart, my brain.
The world.
I slow blinked, sure I’d misheard. “You love me?”
/>
“So fucking much.” His hold tightened as he ordered, “Say you love me, too.”
Frantically, I shook my head.
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Close to hyperventilating, I admitted, “Because then you’ll have every part of me.”
“Then it’s only fair since you have every part of me.” His mouth crashed down on mine, taking it. Owning me.
And I knew I’d lost.
The battle. The war.
All of it.
I could build wall after wall, and he’d keep smashing them down with his filthy-sweet words and his touch.
I’d lost.
Which also meant I’d won.
He loves me.
Damien Caine loves me.
I tried to end the kiss, but Damien was undeterred, his mouth moving to tease my neck. “Damien,” I said through my soft laughter, his stubble tickling the sensitive skin.
His lips skimmed as he ordered, “Say it.”
“Hold on.” A tremor ran through me as his teeth scrapped. “Stop.”
Just like he’d promised, as soon as I said the word, he stopped. No hesitation or anger, he stepped away immediately, concern mixing with the lust in his gaze.
“Just for a minute,” I said, reaching out to pull his hands back to me. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Too far.”
“Trust me.”
His lips tipped up, and then I tipped, too, when he put his shoulder to my belly and lifted. I squealed with laughter that ended as a moan when his hand landed hard on my ass.
When we reached his room, he set me on my feet, keeping hold of my hips to steady me.
I pushed him back until he was sitting on the bed. “Close your eyes.”
Smirking, he did as I said, but grumbled. “You’re getting bossy.”
“I learned it from you.” Nerves tingled through me as I went to the closet and quietly opened it. I scanned the still packaged toys and accessories, and almost changed my mind in favor of trying some of them. Sticking with the plan, I grabbed what I needed.
