Page 190 of Brutal
Shirtless.
Awake.
And looking better than anyone has a right to after getting out of bed.
He stares at me, and then at the open panel, and then at the ring still in my hand.
For one charged second, neither of us moves. And in that second, I know he sees everything. How close I am to the compartment. How far down the corridor I’ve gone. How close I must have stood to the locked door.
How easily I could have tried it.
Maybe did.
I expect anger. I expect him to haul me over his shoulder like he’s done so many times before and take me to his bed and punish me…and this time, I expect I won’t enjoy it nearly as much.
But I don’t see anger in his eyes.
I see only pain, as if he knows the moment has arrived, whether he wanted it to or not.
“What did you find?” he asks.
I hold up the document. “This was in place before that night.”
He takes a step closer and takes the page.
He says nothing.
I’ve learned enough about him to know that silence is rarely empty with Samson. This one feels brutal.
“My brother,” he says at last, “doesn’t step into something he doesn’t understand.”
I nod slowly.
“He didn’t just fix it after.”
Another step. He’s close enough now that I can feel the heat coming off him.
“No,” he says, almost to himself.
“He knew,” I say. “And you didn’t.” I glance at the ring still in my hand. “You told me not to go near that door.”
His jaw flexes. “Yes.”
“I almost tried it.”
A long pause. Then, “I know.”
That shouldn’t hit me the way it does, but it does. Because it means he looked at me just now and knew exactly how close I came to crossing that line.
And the truth is that I didn’t.
I lift his hand. Place the ring back into it. Fold his fingers over it. “I meant what I said,” I tell him. “I choose you. I love you.”
A muscle works in his jaw. “Even now?”
I think of the door.
The lock.
