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She was still a fool for him, just a more traumatized fool.
She didn’t understand what had just happened. She wanted this man. She wanted to do naughty, wicked things to him and have him do naughty, wicked things to her. Her panic didn’t make sense. But then, it rarely did.
Please. Let me go. Please, let me go,” she started sobbing against him, not realizing when his arms came around her, holding her tight. “Let me go. Let me go. Please. Please,” she hiccupped. He pressed his forehead against hers. “You’re in my blood, beating in my fucking heart. The only way you go is when the heart stops.”
“You didn’t tell me, Amara,” he spoke, his jaw clenching. He knew. She didn’t know how, but he knew.
