why is he in pain? He is the cause of all of this. He killed someone I loved, the man who raised me. So why is Enzo acting like he is the one grieving? Could he actually feel remorse over this? Or is he simply mourning the fact that he lost me?
“There is nothing to talk about.”
“I love you, Amara.”
“If you really loved me, you would have protected me from the agony of losing my father, not caused it. The pain I see in your eyes is for yourself. For once in your life, you did something you might actually regret. You did something that broke me and ripped me from you.”
Removing my bra and panties, I watch them fall to the floor, and his eyes grow wide with desire. The man I’ve loved is standing before me… I’m bare to him, not only physically. I can see the love and affection we share reflecting back to me in his eyes. Yet, I know I will never be enough.
“We can fix this, Amara. We can be whole.” His voice is pleading with me, like a man ready to fall on his knees. But there is no saving us after he shoved us headfirst into this world of blood. Once something is this broken, it will never be as strong as it once was.
Stepping past him, I walk into the bathroom, trying to close the door behind me, but Enzo pushes through. Ignoring him, I turn the faucet on to scolding hot and jump into the shower.
“I will not give you up, Amara. You knew my need for revenge was important. You knew if it came down to it, I would have to kill him. Look at what he did to you. Look at what he did to us—to me,” Enzo practically yells while taking off his clothes.
I turn away from him, facing the tiled wall while starting to wash my hair. For a moment, he is quiet, and all I hear is the sound of his clothes hitting the floor. Then, he’s slipping into the shower behind me.
Turning around, I smack him across the face. Hard. It takes him by surprise, but not me. I’ve been dreaming about hurting him, letting him feel my anger again, and again. To beat him to the bloody mess he has left my heart in.
His eyes grow wide for a moment in pure shock, and then he’s on me, his lips devouring mine. His arms engulf me, pulling me into his chest before he picks me up and slams my back against the shower wall.
I want to shove him away, want to scream at him to go to hell and to never touch me again.
But I don’t. Not because I forgive him. Not because I still love him.
No. Because I know this is the only way to make me stop hurting, even if it’s just for a little bit.
Hot water sprays down on us as I rake my nails down his back, making him bleed in the most sensual way. My teeth bite into his lips until I taste blood, and I revel in it.
“Hurt me, Amara. Make me feel whatever it is you want me to feel. I’m bared to you. I know I hurt you, I know I fucked up, but it had to be done. It had to happen—and while you hate me, you’ll move on and learn to deal with it. Death is the only thing promised in this life.”
“I do hate you,” I growl, pulling at his hair as he kisses my neck. My body tingles in unimaginable ways, washing away all the anger and sadness. I would never admit it out loud, but I need him. Right now, I need him like I need water to drink or the air to breathe.
“Then show me. Show me how much you hate me,” he whispers. His teeth graze my ear as his cock presses against my hot core.
With his hands wrapped under my ass, he presses into me. His cock promises me a million ways to forget, and I want to forget. I want to so badly. Letting the walls fall, I reach up, gripping his face so I can stare into a pair of warm eyes.
“Fuck me,” I barely whisper onto his lips as if it’s a secret between the two of us. Pressing his forehead against mine, we gaze into each other’s eyes as he slides into me to the hilt.
One hand slips from my ass to my