Page 79 of Depraved

“Did you break your hand?”

He shrugs. “I dislocated my thumb. It’ll heal quick enough. I’m only worried about you now.”

I tap his nose in light rebuke. “We’ll worry about each other. I’ll rest and recover if you will.”

He groans and gently shapes his body around mine. “That mouth.”

I tip my head back, seeking another kiss. His lips thin with regret.

“You need more painkillers.”

“I’m not ready to sleep right now. I want to talk about what we’re going to do next.”

A shadow flits at his jaw. “What comes next is I end those bastards who hurt you.”

I touch the spot where his dimple shows when he smiles. “I mean after that. I’ve decided to quit my MA.”

He cocks his head at me. “Why? You were so determined to finish it.”

“I don’t want you to be my professor. I don’t want to hide our relationship for a year.”

“I’ll quit, then. I’ve already missed several lectures without a word to the university. I’ve probably been fired.” He strokes my hair. “Finish your course. I know how much it means to you. I’m sorry I was dismissive before. I was being an asshole.”

“At least you acknowledge it now,” I reply coolly. “But thank you,” I say more earnestly. “I don’t want to give up on my MA. I probably have a lot of catching up on missed lectures, too, but I’ll figure out how to ask the department chair for an extension.”

“You’re a brilliant writer. You always have been.”

I remember when I allowed him to read one of my short stories for the first time, back when we were kids. Ever since I’d arrived at our foster home, he’d shot me sullen glowers. I’d thought he hated me, but we eventually bonded over our mutual love of reading.

“Why did you used to glare at me all the time?” I ask. “When I first met you. You wouldn’t even talk to me.”

His eyes darken. “I told you: I’ve never thought I’m worthy of you. I resented the fact we couldn’t be together. I’ve loved you since the day I met you, when I first saw you dance.”

My eyes burn. “What made you change your mind?”

“Because I couldn’t stay away. And when you allowed me to kiss you for the first time, I knew it was only because we were trapped in that abusive home with me. We only had each other for comfort, but I took what you offered anyway. Once I started kissing you, I knew I could never stop. Even though I didn’t think I deserved you, I claimed you for myself.”

There’s something different about the way he says it now. His face isn’t tight with anguish when he talks about his unworthiness.

“You believe me now,” I observe gently. “You do deserve me. We deserve each other.”

“I love you.”

It’s all he says in reply, but it’s enough.

It’s more than enough.

His love is all-consuming. Overwhelming. Obsessive.

Maybe more than a little unhinged.

And I feel the exact same way about him.

I always will.

21

KAROLINA