Page 112 of Have To Be Mine

I wanted to wreck her. I wanted to worship her. Somehow, I was doing both at once. The way her body tightened around me every time I hit that spot made it next to impossible for me to hold on. I watched her face because I couldn’t look away from it. Every expression was mine. I was doing that to her. I wanted to be the only man to have her like this for all of eternity.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please don’t stop. It feels so good.”

“I’ve got you,” I said again, low against her ear. “I’ve got you, baby. Let go.”

She came apart beneath me with a sharp cry, her whole body clenching and shuddering. Her fingers dug into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks. I hoped they did. I wanted to wear her mark. I felt her pulse around me and that was it. I buried myself deep and followed her over the edge, groaning into the curve of her neck.

For a long moment neither of us moved. My heart was slamming against my ribs. Hers was slamming back against mine. I could feel every breath she took. I felt connected to her on a different level. It went beyond our flesh pressed against each other. So much more.

I rolled to the side and brought her with me, tucking her against my chest. She pressed her face into my neck. I pressed my lips into her hair.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. She already knew. I lay there, my body still humming, and tried to come to terms with what I felt. Love. Had I ever truly felt love? No. This had to be what my brothers had with their wives. I understood them so much better now. I should’ve felt satisfied, content. And I did. But there was something else. Something so heavy I couldn’t shake it.

“You okay?” she asked softly, her chin coming to rest on her hands as she looked up at me.

I brushed a damp curl away from her face. “Yeah. More than okay.”

“Liar.” She said it gently, without accusation. “You’re somewhere else right now. I can tell.”

God, she could read me too well. I let my hand fall to stroke her cheek, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “I don’t think it’s the right time to talk about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re naked and just had some great sex. I’d rather not think about my dad.”

She laughed. “Ah, I see. It’s fine. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m just… confused.”

“About?”

“Who I am.”

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching mine. “I thought the playboy thing was who you were. I likened you to Dionysus.”

“Who?”

“Greek mythology. He was chaos. I assumed you liked the chaos.”

“I did. It is who I was. Part of who I was, anyway.” I took a breath, trying to find the words. “I’ve always liked having fun. That wasn’t fake. I always felt like the world was too serious. Adrian and Briggs are so uptight. When we’d all sit at the table or go to functions, they’d all be very serious. It made me uncomfortable, so I was the clown. I was the one that brought levity to a tense situation. Sebastian would usually join in, but I was definitely the one to instigate it. But after Dad died, it became something else. A way to avoid dealing with the fact that he closed a door on me.”

“What door?”

I stared up at the ceiling, feeling that familiar tightness in my chest. “The door I didn’t even know I wanted to walk through until I realized I never could. He died thinking I was a screw-up, Krista. A waste of potential. He used to always lecture me about fucking around. Said I was going to push things too far one day. Now, I’ll never get the chance to prove him wrong.”

“Dash.”

“I was ashamed,” I continued, the words coming faster now like a dam breaking. I had never given voice to my inner thoughts and fears. “That’s why I went off the rails after he died. I isolated myself from my family. I couldn’t look at them without seeing the disappointment I knew Dad felt. Every time Adrian tried to help me or Briggs offered advice, all I could think was that Dad died believing I was the family joke.”

She shifted, moving up so she could kiss me. It was soft and sweet, and when she pulled back, I saw the ache in her eyes—the same ache I’d been carrying around for years. It was like she felt my pain. She shared it with me. And I actually felt lighter.

“You’re not a screw-up,” she said.

I tried to smile. “Thanks.”

“You were just a slut.”

For a second, I didn’t know how to react. Then I saw the glint in her eye, that deadpan expression that somehow made it even funnier. I burst out laughing. She started laughing too, and suddenly we were both shaking with it. The moment was easier to handle with a little humor. Exactly the thing I did when things got difficult.