Page 84 of Brutal Truths

“Not as bad as it looks.” Aiden turns like that settles it. “Just a little hiccup.”

A slow sweep down his body says otherwise. Cuts. Bruises. Damage he’s brushing off like it’s nothing.

“Do you mind?” He has the gall to nudge me back so he can shut the door. “I’m almost done.”

I strip off the clothes still on me in record time and step into the shower, my frustration boiling over. “You are the most frustrating man I have ever met. A bloody hiccup? Did you hit your head too? Is this why you didn’t want to get naked earlier? Knew that if I saw you like this, I wouldn’t have let you fuck me stupid?”

Aiden ignores me. Reaches around me to grab a bar of soap and starts washing up.

Is he fucking kidding me right now?

Ignore me? Not a chance in hell.

There’s one thing he won’t be able to brush off, no matter how hard he tries. And I use it without hesitation.

Dropping to my knees, I take his flaccid cock in my hand. I stroke him slowly, up and down twice. My eyes lift, and I intently watch him.

The shift is instantaneous. His body stilling under the steady stream of water, breath catching as he fights for control.

He’s losing. Good.

His cock gradually regains its firmness and vitality. How? I have no idea, but it is, and I’m not about to stop until it’s so hard it hurts.

“Isabel,” he growls.

“Can’t ignore me now, can you?” I drag my tongue along the base of his shaft, feeling the vein pulsating with increased speed.

The soap slips from his grip. Strong hands suddenly haul me to my feet and press my back against the tile, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat building between us.

“Don’t push me, Izzy. It’s been a real shitty day. You have no idea.”

With a venomous stare, everything comes out at once. Every piece of the mess he wasn’t here for, my words sharp and biting.

“You wanna talk about shitty days? Try finding out someone hid a gun in my grandfather’s safe and wrapped it in the scarf I bought my grandmother. As if that’s not enough, I read the letter my grandfather left me and learned way too much about the man. The biggest one—he kept a letter my mother wrote for me. He was supposed to give it to me once I was old enough. He never did.”

Tears roll down my cheeks, but I don’t stop. “It told me everything. Who she was. How I came to be. A fucked-up story, really. She could only speculate on who she believes got her pregnant. Which, by the way, I’m almost certain is the same man you work for. If it’s not him, then his son. Or the piece of shit who kidnapped me. None of those options feel like great choices.”

I take my first breath as a hiccup escapes. “And I can’t decide if I even care to know the truth, because not knowing means I can keep on pretending I’m not some product of a fucked-up situation that likely led to my mother and grandfather’s deaths.”

He brings me to his level, forehead pressing against mine, his voice quieter now, controlled but raw.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you read the letters. I should’ve been. You shouldn’t have had to read that alone. And I should’ve told you who I was meeting. I didn’t want you to worry. Doesn’t excuse it, though. What I did was wrong. It won’t happen again. I promise. I’ll do better.”

His eyes darken, the tightness in his jaw loosens. Silence stretches for a beat. It’s like he’s bracing us both, like whatever comes next matters more.

“That’s no way to treat the woman I love. I want to be honest with you—always. I don’t want to be the man who lets you down. I really hope I didn’t fuck that up. Can you forgive me? Stop hating me… and maybe love me instead?”

My legs wrap around his waist, holding him closer. His hard cock nestles between us, the tip taunting my forbidden hole.

I’ve never once thought about letting a man take me there. I’m still on the fence, but I get why others might be into it.

As it teases those delicate nerves, it sends a pulse to my clit. That bitch insists it’s not done with this man yet, even though my pussy strongly disagrees. Both sensations reignite my craving for him.

It could be because I swear he just said he loved me. I can’t be a hundred percent sure. I’ll need him to clarify.

“There’s a lot to unwrap in that apology. But before we dive deep into it, can you say it again?”

The fucker smirks and repeats, “I’m sorry.”