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I wanted her, and for the first time in a long time, I was considering throwing out my rules. For her.
My god, she was beautiful.
I was staring at a college photo of Tristian West and kicking myself.
GIRLLL I WANNA SEE IT TOO!!!
It was her. It had always been her. Ever since I’d first seen her.
“I’m killing him slowly, for you. Because he’s hurt someone who shares your blood.”
“Tristian—” “Trace.” “What?” “I hate the name Tristian. Call me Trace.”
The hard part of living in a world where it was either wrong or right was that you forgot that being human meant you were never only on one side of that equation. What did you do then? Apparently, what I did. You chose, and you tried to survive your choice.
I knew her. I knew this woman. I knew her body. I didn’t know how, but I did. Other lifetimes maybe. I would’ve believed it if someone told me in that instant because it was like I’d already had lifetimes worshipping her body.
I’d been wrong before. This was heaven. First it was her mouth. Then how she felt on my fingers, but this was the ultimate form of paradise.
She truly hated me, but there was the same starving look underneath, the one I felt for her too. Haunted. I’d used the word before because it was true. This goddamn fucking obsession was on both accounts, but I was here and I touched her, and she fell apart for me.
Moving forward, every time I could have her, I would.
It was then that I realized how truly fucked I was, because I would never get this with another woman. No one could make me taste heaven three different times.
I just needed her more.
To you, my name is Trace.”
She was law, and I was half and half. I feared the day I would become mostly not.
She was pulling out every intestine inside of me, one at a time, a slow tug each inch.
“Who touched you?”
It’s just scary. Falling for someone always is.”
“Because when it comes to you, I have absolutely no fucking control over myself.”
I felt like I’d been given a gift because she wasn’t tense with me. It was like she gave herself permission during that drive to be herself, and it’d been the best car ride I’d ever been on.
You matter to me.”
God. She was hurting. Everything in me wanted to open the door and go to her. I wanted to hold her. I wanted her to come into the vehicle. I wanted to give her a ride home. I wanted to give her a ride home every night.
I just wanted Jess.
He was amazing.
It was him for me, and my body had chosen, and I was so screwed.
“He wasn’t you. You’ve ruined me for men. You don’t get it.”
He groaned, pulling back, breathing unsteadily. “God. I could hold you forever.”
She could hate me, as long as she was alive to hate me.
“He said that sometimes people get addicted to crisis. They grow up in it, and that’s what they know. And if somehow they find their life is going good, somehow they’ll do things to bring drama back into their lives. I wonder if that’s you and me.”
“Fine, but you’re mine. I won’t pretend otherwise.”
my woman
“I realized tonight that when you chose me, it made me want to choose you back.”
If it was, there’d be no you and me.
“And before you get almighty with me, let me remind you that I don’t care. You could be a federal judge, and I would try to move heaven and hell so I could be at your side,
I don’t care what role it is. I just want you. I love you. That has not changed for me. I’m goddamn obsessed with you.”
“It’s what we do in my world. I worry about you. I want to protect you. Don’t ask me to pull him from you. Not again. Not after what Ashton did to you. I can’t do it. I won’t do it. I’ll never stop worrying about you. It’s what you do when you love someone.”
It was Trace for me. I wasn’t the type to open my heart for the next guy. There’d be no next guy. Trace got in, and that was an act of god by itself.
Trace was worth it.
