She takes a fistful of my shirt as she tries to pull me closer, and I focus on the sounds of her breathing, the slick heat of her body as I stroke her. Maybe, just maybe, I’m pulling air deeper into my lungs than I have in months. Maybe my blood’s pumping harder, sending sensation buzzing through nerve endings that have gone numb with disregard. Maybe she’s not the only one waking up.
“You’re beautiful,” I say. “I don’t even know if I deserve to look at you, but some days it feels like you’re the only piece of beauty left in the world.”
She draws in a ragged breath and circles her hips in one last effort to control her need before she fully fucks my hand, grinding against me, pushing my fingers deeper. I tug her earlobe between my teeth then drop lower, latching on to her neck and sucking hard until she moans. With every sound, her movements grow more frantic, as if I woke her and she discovered she’s been sleeping underwater and is now desperate to swim to the surface.
“You are beautiful,” I repeat, my face between her breasts now. I straighten so I can look into her eyes. I want to see Mia undone. I want to know I can still do that for her. “And you’re alive.”
“Only when you touch me.” Her nails bite into the back of my neck, and her sex squeezes tight around my finger. She arches her back and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, and I can only watch in awe as she comes.
Beautiful isn’t the word. It’s grown too weak with overuse. Mia is something greater than that. Bigger. Brighter. More important.
I remove my hand from between her legs and swallow hard as I back away. She opens her eyes and brings her fingertips to her mouth. Because I didn’t kiss her there? Because she wishes I did? Or because she said something she wishes she hadn’t?
“I need this job,” she whispers. Her big brown eyes sparkle with tears.
“No, you don’t. Quit, Mia. I have money. I’ll pay whatever my father’s paying you.”
“Would it be worth it? Just to get me away from you?”
“It would be worth it to make you stop hiding from your life. You didn’t die with your brother. You aren’t brain-dead like Brogan. Stop acting like you lost your life that night. You don't have to live in this purgatory you’ve created for yourself.”
“Me?” Her eyes go big. Too big. Angry. Outraged. “Look who’s talking, Arrow. You had everything, and you threw every bit of it away so you didn’t have to face the pain of living your life without Brogan by your side. I know you feel responsible because of what happened between us, but I was the one who decided to tell him. I was the one who broke up with him. I was the one who texted my brother when Brogan wouldn’t let me out of the car.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s easier to think of Brogan as a saint who was wronged than a jealous man holding Mia hostage and demanding her heart as ransom.
When I open my eyes, Mia’s brimming tears finally spill over and course in rivulets down her cheeks. “Maybe I’m living in purgatory,” she says, “but that’s only because I deserve worse.”
Mia blaming herself for my crime is buckshot to the soul. “Don’t say that.” I thread my fingers into her hair and cup her jaw. Maybe if I can hold her together, I won’t fall apart. And the fact that I even care about myself is a revelation. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Didn’t I?” She reaches up and wraps her fingers around my wrist. “Thank you for not blaming me. But if you want to help me forgive myself, you have to stop being a casualty of that night. Seeing your life fall apart too is nothing more than another punishment for me.”
“Don’t let it be. You were never the one I was trying to punish.” I close my mouth and swallow back words before more can rush out. I’ve said too much already.
Releasing my wrist, she lifts her hand to my face, tracing the edge of my jaw, then my lips. Even after what I just did to her—especially after that—the touch feels like the most intimate one we’ve exchanged. I turn my face into her hand and press a kiss to the center of