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"You are perfection," I rasped. "You are everything that is beautiful in this world. You are a goddess," I snarled. "Don’t you dare ever say anything less in my presence."
Righting the wrongs of my past was never going to be an easy task, but for the chance to earn more stolen moments like this? I’d go to hell and back to be the guy who was there for her at the end of a shitty day.
No wonder we’d struggled as a couple. He thought I was perfect. I believed I was to blame for everything he did wrong. What a pair.
"Is this your new tactic?" I asked softly. "To charm me?" He shook his head, but his smile was sad. "Baby, I should always have treated you like this."
The thing about addiction? The thing they never told you? After the suffering and the going cold turkey, and the withdrawals, as well as the rest of the misery that came with it, you never stopped apologizing. You never stopped trying to make shit right. You never stopped trying to earn forgiveness for the things you did when you were under the influence.
Her forehead came to rest between my pecs, and as she leaned against me, I swore, it felt like the hinges to heaven’s gates creaked a little.
"I’m not perfect, Asher," she rasped, and I knew she thought she meant business by using my real name. "I’m the opposite." "Your version of perfect isn’t like mine."
"I loved you as you became Cyan’s mom—a woman who made sure the house was clean, who watched over our daughter, who protected her, cherished her. But I fell for the woman who smiled at a dirty biker like he wasn’t scum."
"But what about now? Why do you love me now?" I eyed her warily. "Do you want me to love you?" "Yes," she breathed.
Still sliding alongside one another like two ships that passed in the night, except, this time, these ships lingered after dinner. They talked about things other than Cyan. And one ship bought the other ship some flowers, just because, ‘The color reminded me of your eyes.’
I didn’t care that we were in the school parking lot. Didn’t care that at my back, there were parents in the community. Didn’t care that Cyan could maybe see us from the SUV. Didn’t care about anything other than feeling his lips on mine. So I surged onto my tiptoes and kissed him. And damn, if it didn’t feel as right now as it had done when he’d kissed me that first time when I was nineteen.
