think, let alone talk, but I know if I don’t say it, I’ll regret this for the rest of my life. I have this strange, crushing feeling that where he’s going, I won’t be able to follow. “I love you too, J. So much. I love you so fucking much.”
“I know,” he says simply, his full, beautiful lips turning up into a smile. “I know you do. And that’s the best thing anyone could have ever given me, you know that?”
I can’t let him leave.
I fucking can’t.
“Where are you going?” I whisper instead, because I’ve already begged him. Already told him not to go. And I know when Jeremiah makes up his mind about something, he doesn’t stop. He won’t let anyone change it.
I haven’t accepted it yet.
I don’t quite believe it. Don’t think that soon, he won’t be following me. Won’t be stalking me.
The thought almost makes me smile, and he must see it, because his own lips pull into a small smile. “What’re you thinking about, beautiful?” he asks me quietly, his breath caressing my mouth.
I know he didn’t answer my question, but I kind of don’t care. I kind of don’t want to hear his answer. How it might shatter my heart.
“I was thinking…” I trail off and he leans closer, his lips grazing mine in the whisper of a kiss.
My eyes flutter closed, and I try to get myself the fuck together to finish my sentence.
“I was thinking that you’re a complete fucking psycho,” I whisper honestly, dissolving into laughter that only serves to twist my heart further. I force myself to open my eyes as I feel my lips brush against his with the words.
He blinks at me, then laughs too, delicious and husky, a sensual sound that sends warmth flooding to my core, right beneath his hand still on my bare skin.
I should feel bad about it, and maybe I do a little, knowing my husband is in the room next to mine, still recovering.
But these are stolen moments of time. Moments that’ll end too fucking soon, and I don’t let the guilt plague me.
Because if I don’t enjoy this, if I don’t drink every inch of Jeremiah Rain in, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.
Nearly two decades spent hating and loving him, running from and to him.
I think it’ll take at least another two to get over him.
“I am,” he says finally, agreeing with my assessment of his mental health. He drags his fingers through my hair, tucks a lock behind my ear. “Remember that time I fired a gun at your head?”
And then we both dissolve into laughter, because the truth is, we’re both fucking insane.
After a moment, though, the smiling and laughter trail off, and we’re together in silence.
He bows his head over mine, our brows together as he grabs my hand again, one still splayed over my belly.
“I love you, and I never want you to forget that. And there’s something else I never want you to forget.”
I hold my breath, trying not to break down as I stare into his beautiful eyes.
“I never want you to forget that you deserve it. My love. His love.”
My stomach churns with his last words. My heart is pounding so hard, it hurts.
“You remember I once told you that you deserve the world, baby?”
I close my eyes, squeezing them tight as tears spill down my cheeks again. I remember it. I’ve never forgotten it.
“I mean it,” he whispers, his lips grazing mine again. “And I don’t have to burn it down. Lucifer will give you everything you could ever want, in your wildest fucking dreams.”
The tears fall faster, my chest rising and falling as the sobs break through, clawing up my throat.
“And if he doesn’t,” he says, pressing his soft lips to my cheeks as I keep my eyes closed, scared to look at him for the last time, “I’ll fucking kill him, okay, baby?”
I don’t laugh at that.
Mainly because I believe him, but also because I don’t want to see him for the last time. I’m not ready.
Not yet.
Not until I know.
“Where are you going, J? Where the fuck are you going?” The words come out strangled, a faint whisper laced with the darkest grief.
He licks my tears, drags his mouth over my cheek until his tongue flicks along the seam of my lips. But when I open my mouth, suck in a breath, he doesn’t kiss me. He just tells me the truth.