Cruz (Dark and Dirty Sinners' MC #5) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,53

the steam from the too long shower I’d had in an attempt to get clean. Sure, the guys had hosed me down, but that had made me feel like a Labrador Retriever who’d gotten busy in a muddy puddle.

It had dispersed excess dirt, but it hadn’t left me clean.

The towel around me scented of jasmine, the vanity was made in an Italian marble that probably cost more than Link’s hog, and my skin gleamed with moisturizer that cost over two hundred dollars a liquid oz.

I was rich.

Filthy, stinking rich.

And the key word there?

Stinking.

Some days, I felt like that stench went soul deep, but only Link made me see the light at the end of the tunnel. I knew he’d done some terrible things in his time. Knew he’d probably done a lot worse than what I’d done tonight, but somehow, his soul remained golden.

I felt that.

Every time he touched me, every time he looked at me, I felt that. As well as his love for me. It was clear in his patience, evident with every measured touch, and every day he was supportive of me.

“I could never hate you.”

The words were simple, but the context was anything but.

My father was dead.

At Link’s hands. Not mine.

“I couldn’t let you do it,” he rasped.

I should have known he wouldn’t. Should have prepared myself, but instead, I’d let my father get into my head, had let him worm his way inside when I should have acted instead of dithering.

As a result, Link had made the kill shot.

A shot I’d been planning since the first time my father had abused me.

The steam misted over the mirror, but I didn’t bother to wipe my hand over the glass. He stepped toward me, so big and so strong that he should have scared me. Should have had my shoulders cowering, my body twisting away from him as I tried to escape, but escaping Link was the last thing I wanted.

Link was my soul mate.

His hands moved to cup the balls of my shoulders, and I tilted my head to the side, letting my cheek rest on one of them. He released a sigh at that, and I could sense his relief.

It always amazed me how this man, this big, rough and ready biker, could be so careful around me. After the car crash, he’d treated me with kid gloves for a while, especially with my cut lip, broken bones, and whiplash. Ever since, he looked at me like he knew he could lose me. Which killed me.

For weeks, months even, we’d been pussyfooting around things, and I knew that was more my fault than his.

I’d let things go too far.

That he thought I might hate him was indicative of the truth.

“I’m ready.”

My words had his brows arching. “Huh? For what?”

Carefully twisting around, because I knew I’d strain my neck otherwise, I moved so that I was no longer facing the vanity but facing him. He reached up, cupped my chin, so completely in the dark that I knew I couldn’t love him more.

People would criticize me for keeping him on the line this long, for daring to be traumatized by what had happened in my past, but this man was the only person’s opinion I gave a fuck about.

He’d given me time to heal, time to recognize that he was like no other man on God’s green earth. His patience, his honor, his respect, all of it made me love him even more than I’d thought was possible.

He was a gift.

It was time I showed him that.

Staring up at him, I reached for the rosary around his neck, tangling my fingers up in it as I told him, “For you. For us.”

His eyes flared wide, and it almost amused me when he shook his head. “No way. Not now. Not after…”

“Yes way. Yes now. Yes after,” I told him calmly.

“You hate me,” he rasped, pain in his eyes.

Confused, my brow furrowed. “Huh? I feel the exact opposite of that.”

“You’re punishing me for taking your father out.”

When he took a step back, I’d admit, I’d never foreseen this.

Blinking at him, I took a step forward, and carried on moving toward him as he moved away, out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

“Don’t do this,” he pleaded.

“Don’t do what?” I countered huskily, his level of ‘torn up’ taking this whole thing to another level.

I’d thought I loved him before. Now? This turned into outright adoration. “Don’t love you? Don’t need to take this to the next phase?