“Fuck!” He releases me, moving back on the bed. The sudden absence of his heat and his heavy weight over me is startling, as is the light from the bedside lamp he turns on. It takes a moment before my eyes adjust to the brightness and I make out the expression on his face.
“You think I blame you for what happened?” he asks hoarsely, sitting back on his haunches. His eyes burn with intensity as he stares at me, his cock still fully erect. “You think it was somehow your fault?”
“Of course it was.” I sit up, feeling the stinging soreness deep inside, where he was just buried. “I’m the one who wanted to go to Chicago, to go to that club. If not for me, none of this would’ve—”
“Stop.” His harsh command vibrates through me even as his features contort with something resembling pain. “Just stop, baby, please.”
I fall silent, staring at him in confusion. Wasn’t that what this whole scene was about? My punishment for disappointing him? For endangering myself and our child?
Still holding my gaze, he takes a deep breath and moves toward me. “Nora, my pet . . .” He takes my face in his large palms. “How could you possibly think that I hate you?”
I swallow. “I’m hoping you don’t, but I know you’re angry—”
“You think I’m angry because you wanted to see your parents? To go out dancing and have fun?” His nostrils flare. “Fuck, Nora, if the miscarriage is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have let you go to that bathroom on your own—”
“But you couldn’t have known—”
“And neither could you.” He takes a deep breath and lowers his hands to my lap, clasping my palms in his warm grasp. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says roughly. “None of it was your fault.”
I dampen my dry lips. “So then why—”
“Why was I angry?” His beautiful mouth twists. “Because I thought you wanted to leave me. Because I misinterpreted something you said to your parents tonight.”
“What?” My eyebrows pull together in a frown. “What did I— Oh.” I recall my offhand comment, born of fear and insecurity. “No, Julian, that’s not what I meant,” I begin, but he squeezes my hands before I can explain further.
“I know,” he says softly. “Believe me, baby, now I know.”
We stare at each other in silence, the air thick with echoes of violent sex and dark emotions, with the aftermath of lust and pain and loss. It’s strange, but in this moment, I understand him better than ever. I see the man behind the monster, the man who needs me so much he’ll do anything to keep me with him.
The man I need so much I’ll do anything to stay with him.
“Do you love me, Julian?” I don’t know what gives me the courage to pose the question now, but I have to know, once and for all. “Do you love me?” I repeat, holding his gaze.
For a few moments, he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. His grip on my hands is tight enough to hurt. I can feel the struggle within him, the longing warring with the fear. I wait, holding my breath, knowing he may never open himself up like this, may never admit the truth even to himself. So when he speaks, I’m almost caught off-guard.
“Yes, Nora,” he says hoarsely. “Yes, I love you. I love you so fucking much it hurts. I didn’t know it, or maybe I just didn’t want to know it, but it’s always been there. I spent most of my life trying not to feel, trying not to let people get close to me, but I fell for you from the very beginning. It just took me two years to realize it.”
“What made you realize it?” I whisper, my heart aching with relieved joy. He loves me. Up until this moment, I didn’t know how desperately I needed the words, how much their lack weighed on me. “When did you know?”
“It was the night we came back home.” His muscular throat moves as he swallows. “It was when I lay here next to you. I let myself truly feel it then—the pain of losing our baby, the pain of losing all those other people in my life—and I realized I’d been trying to protect myself from the agony of losing you. Trying to keep myself from loving you so it wouldn’t destroy me. Except it was too late. I was already in love with you. I had been for a long time. Obsession, addiction, love—it’s all the same thing. I can’t live without you, Nora. Losing you would destroy me. I can survive anything but that.”
“Oh, Julian . . .” I can’t imagine what it took for this strong, ruthless man to admit this. “You won’t lose me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know you’re not.” His eyes narrow, all traces of vulnerability fading from his features. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I’ll ever let you go.”
A shaky laugh escapes my throat. “Of course. I know that.”
“Ever.” He seems to feel the need to emphasize that.
“I know that too.”
He stares at me then, his hands holding mine, and I feel the pull of his wordless command. He wants me to admit my feelings too, to bare my soul to him as he’s just bared his to me. And so I give him what he demands.
“I love you, Julian,” I say, letting him see the truth of that in my gaze. “I’ll always love you—and I don’t want you to ever let me go.”
I don’t know if he moves toward me then, or if I make the move first, but somehow his mouth is on mine, his lips and tongue devouring me as he holds me in his inescapable embrace. We come together in pain and pleasure, in violence and passion.