Page 78 of Riding Hard

Lifting my hand, I glide my fingers down the center of her throat, tracing the bruised ring around her neck. I hate that she’s got that. I hate that I couldn’t protect her. So maybe my staying away wasn’t selfless.

“It’s hard for me to see your bruises and know that I wasn’t able to protect you. I feel guilty, and I haven’t been able to shake that. So it’s partially to give you space, but also because I fucked up.”

Juliette takes another step toward me, and then another. “She was playing me in an attempt to make us fight, to make me feel self-conscious. But the thing is, I knew what she was doing—it just didn’t stop the doubt from seeping in.”

“Nothing happened or has happened for a while. It’s only you, Juliette.” I hold my breath for a moment before I let it out in a whoosh and continue, “I love you,” I state. “Have loved you, really. Never felt this way about a single person in my life, and I don’t want to lose you.”

She stares at me, then blinks a couple of times before her lips curve up into a smile. I watch as she tilts her head back, her eyes never leaving mine. I feel her hand cup my cheek, and I hiss at the sensation of her touch.

“I love you, too,” she whispers as tears fill her eyes.

I’m not sure if I should kiss her or not, but I decide not to think. I’m pretty sure I’ve been thinking far too fucking much lately, something I haven’t ever done before this woman walked into my life. I’ve always just gone with whatever feels good at the time and not given much of a fuck about who or what happens.

I care now, at least when it comes to Juliette.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” I admit.

She smiles, lifting to her toes, and then I feel her mouth touch mine. She doesn’t deepen the kiss, but when her tongue glides across my bottom lip, I take it as an invitation. I’m not sure if I should, but my mind shuts off, and my body begins to take over.

Slipping my tongue into her mouth, I taste her. Tangling my tongue with hers, I grip her shirt at the waist, trying not to go full Hulk and tear the cotton fabric of her work shirt. I know she’s hot and sweaty from cleaning this place, and I also know that I don’t care.

I haven’t tasted her in over a week.

Reluctantly, and only because we both need air to breathe, I nibble on her bottom lip, tugging gently once before I break the kiss. Resting my forehead against hers, I close my eyes and attempt to catch my breath.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” she whispers. “But I never want it to end.”

Fuck.

Shifting my head back slightly, I look into her eyes, searching her pretty blue gaze with my own. I tuck a piece of stray hair behind her ear. “It’s never going to end, Jules.”

“How do you know?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. My lips twitch into a smirk. Lowering my head, I run my nose alongside hers, then brush my mouth against hers before I speak.

“Because you’re mine, honey, and I’m never fucking letting you go. Not ever. You belong to me.”

CHAPTER

SIXTY-THREE

LOOT

I want to fuck her.

No, it’s not just a want. It’s a need.

But I don’t want to hurt her, so I know this isn’t going to be a mutually beneficial moment. This is going to be about her, and I’m good with that. Really fucking good with it. I need to taste her.

Releasing her shirt, I reach down and wrap my fingers around the backs of her thighs before I pick her up. I hear her breath hitch, her eyes wide as she looks down at me. Her fingers fly to my shoulders, gripping them tightly as I walk us to my bathroom.

Only a couple of us have attached bathrooms in our rooms. I was one of them because I’m an officer who lives here full time. I’ll probably give my room up to someone else here soon, but for now, I’m going to take full advantage of the space.

Turning on the shower water, I slowly lower Juliette to her feet. She doesn’t speak, her eyes wide and the questions swirling around inside her head. Her bruises are healing. They’re that banana-and-green color now. Pretty soon, I won’t be able to see them, but that doesn’t mean all of her scars vanish.

Gripping the hem of her shirt, I gently tug the cotton fabric over her head. I keep a close eye on her face, watching for any sign of panic or distress. I’m an asshole, but I’m not going to traumatize her further.

As if she can read my mind, her lips curve up into a grin, and she reaches behind her. I watch as she unhooks her bra, allowing the straps to slide down her arms before it lands on the floor somewhere.

“I’m not glass. I won’t break, Slade.”