Page 89 of Every Last Breath

Maddox was the essence of his soul, the reason Cole drew breath. His world only made sense when she was at the center of it, and there had been a time, impossible to disregard, when he’d been the same to her.

The disrespect she threw at him, casual as a salutation, cut him to the bone. He wasn’t going to accept her treating him like meat, in the same manner she should never accept him doing the same. It was beneath them.

She was angry and had a right to her tough-girl posturing.

For any chance of healing, though, she had to work through the anger like he had, and together, they had to wade through their mess.

If she wanted him to leave, he would, but there were things he needed to say first.

“No matter what happens between us, I’ll always be more to you than meat. A good fuck? Hell, yeah.” He gritted his teeth and got up close to her. “But so much more. I’m in there.” He put a finger to her chest. “I’m in your blood and under your skin.”

He curled his hands around her shoulders, and she flinched but didn’t pull away.

“It’s the same for me—you’re like a drug,” he whispered across her lips. “A habit I can’t seem to kick.”

Nine years without her had been worse than dying. He was hooked on her, had it bad, and he knew it now.

“And I’m a drug for you too.”

Trembling in his hands, he sensed how she struggled between giving in to him and ripping out his heart.

The fire in her gorgeous eyes was searing and ready to burn him. “You’re like poison—”

Cupping her face, he seized her mouth in a deep kiss, consuming her vicious words. No delicacy, just a wild, desperate rush to connect. She pushed at him, but fortunately in that moment, desire beat anger, and her mouth opened to him. Her tongue sought his with equal urgency, and finally, her fingers curled in his hair, holding him close.

Their colossal screwups filled the dark crevices between them like plastic explosives ready to blow apart any chance they might have at a future.

Still clutching her with one hand, he pressed the other to her cheek and tore his lips away.

“I love you, Maddox.”

Stark silence fell.

Her eyes narrowed, and she shoved at his chest. Hard. “Do you expect me to swoon and fall into your arms like some sentimental sap because you uttered those three little words?” She shoved him again. “If you love someone, you don’t let them think you’re dead. For nine years. You’ve no idea what losing you did to me, how it wrecked me.” Her chest heaved, eyes turning glassy. “All this time, I thought I’d killed you. Thought I’d destroyed our future. But every day you were alive, choosing not to be with me, you were the one killing us. You buried us!”

She slammed a fist against his chest, and he took it, keeping a hold on her.

Two days ago, she’d held back, hiding what she was capable of physically. No doubt if she wanted to kick his ass, she could. He’d take that too—a fist to the chest, an ass kicking, getting hit by a speeding semi—whatever was necessary to hash this out and see where they stood once the dust settled.

“I was a stupid girl who made a horrible, tragic mistake.” Her voice broke into a sob, fracturing his heart. “What you’ve done, for nearly a decade, letting me mourn and grieve for you, was deliberate.” A tear slipped from her eye. “While you moved on.”

He hated the time they’d spent apart and how he had hurt her by leaving. More than anything, he hated the wall separating them. He was a fighter—born and bred—and the only thing that could stop him from fighting for Maddox was death.

Even then, he’d find a way.

He needed to tear down the wall between them, beat it down brick by brick with his bare hands if necessary. “I never moved on from you, honey. After that shitstorm of violence and death, the things I had to do—the blood on my hands—changed me forever. It gutted me.”

She stilled, meeting his eyes. The fight in her was slipping, her body softening. He loosened his grip on her arms.

“I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. The man I was died. Nikolai Reznikov, his dreams, his passions—everything died. Even my face was taken from me.” He threw a hand to his hideous scar.

In one fell swoop, his life had collapsed in on him. The only thing to survive the ashes was his love for her. He staggered away under the brutal burn in his gut that inevitably came with dwelling on the past and dropped onto the sofa, putting his head in his hands.

She sat on the floor with her back to the couch and the coffee table between them. “You don’t know what I went through after you left.”

“I know about the clinic.”

“But you don’t know why I was there.” She lowered her gaze as he braced himself. “Before you left, I found out I was pregnant.”