Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,99
harder, and—
She came, a wave of release that swept through her, not stopping, an orgasm so powerful that she nearly jerked off the bed.
But it wasn’t enough.
Because he pulled her up. Held her in his arms. Moved fast—and pinned her there against the wall. In and out, over and over, he drove into her. She was slick and hot and so ready for him. There was no restraint, no holding back. Their bodies hit, and he drove frantically for his pleasure.
When he came, she felt the release deep inside. She turned her head and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. She squeezed him, loving the feel of him inside her, outside, all around.
She—
“I love you, Victoria.”
Her eyes closed. She locked her arms around him and held on tight. He carried her back to the bed. Put her under the covers.
She should say something back to him. She knew that she should. A man had just said he loved her. No other lover had ever done that. But . . .
“I’m not going to stop.” He settled in beside her and curled an arm around her stomach. “But there are a few things you still need to know about me.”
She knew everything.
“I tried to tell you before, I’m not the guy you think I am.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I’m not the guy Gabe tells people I am, either. I’m the guy who hunted with him. I’m the guy who helped him track down the bastard who’d taken his sister, and I’m the guy . . .” His hold on her tightened. “I’m the guy who didn’t stop Gabe from killing the man.”
Now she stirred. “That was self—”
“Self-defense. Right. Because he was armed and attacking, but Gabe and I—we could have stopped him. Could have let him live. Could have taken him down another way . . .”
And she remembered. When he’d shot Matthew—he’d gone for a hit in the shoulder. And even when he’d fired at Troy, the first hit hadn’t been a kill shot.
She swallowed and listened. She wanted to hear everything he had to say.
“I was just as angry as Gabe. Just as fucking furious because I saw what he’d done to her. Amy was good. Always a good person. And I cared about her.”
A tear slid down her cheek because there was so much grief in his voice. She hated for Wade to be in pain.
“And I let her the fuck down. I should’ve found her sooner. I should have done something. When I saw that prick, when I saw him laughing at what he’d done to her—crazy asshole—something snapped in me. I wanted to stop him. Gabe just beat me to the punch.”
Her heartbeat was slowing. His arms were so warm around her.
“I didn’t grow up easy. My dad died when I was young. It was just me, my mom, and my . . . brother.”
Silence. She barely breathed.
“Adam was the good one, baby. I was the rebel. The troublemaker. I was the one who took the risks. Not him. He was sixteen and he’d always looked after me. He looked after everyone. Adam was the fucking hero . . .” His breath roughed. “Until the very end . . .”
“Will you tell me what happened?” They’d both revealed so much. He’d helped to heal her pain. She wanted to heal his.
“A kid went out too far. Some little guy—maybe around six. He got caught in an undertow. I didn’t even notice—too busy with my own shit. But Adam noticed. He ran out there, didn’t even hesitate. He got that kid out and he was coming back. When he was coming back . . .” His breath rasped out. “I saw him then. I was on the beach, watching. Why the fuck was I still on the beach? I should have already been in the water, but I’d just been screwing around and I saw him with that kid and—a wave hit.”
Goose bumps covered her arms.
“It was a big wave, and when it cleared I didn’t see him. Didn’t see him or the kid.”
Another tear slid down her cheek.
“I ran into the water. Other people were running then. Trying to help. My mom was screaming. I—I was a good swimmer and I got out there first. I grabbed and I touched someone.”
She waited.
“It was the kid. He was choking and crying and he held onto me so tightly.”
“Wade . . .”
“I—I swam back to shore—just close enough that I could give him to one