I would do well to bolt.
Get the fuck out of there before I made it any worse than I already had which was damn close to being an impossibility.
Because this was pure selfishness.
Problem was, in the middle of it, I could feel what was coming off Violet. Desire coating every inch of her soft, seductive flesh. Her pulse drumming like mad, still caught up in the moment that had just been us.
Like we’d been taken back to the way it’d once been.
The way it should have still been.
Worst were the questions that throbbed and spun.
The reckless confession I had made.
I wanted it. To drop to my goddamn knees and confess it.
The lies I had told.
I bit them back because saying a word wouldn’t help a thing.
I’d only destroy the one thing I had left to give.
There was no chance of redemption.
This woman would despise me with every fiber that knitted her beautiful being when she finally found out what I’d done.
The wickedness of my actions.
I was in deep. Nothing but a captive to what I had to do. To the choices I’d made.
Didn’t mean I didn’t want it.
To fall at this goddesses’ feet.
Worship her.
Give into the hunger that lashed. A violent shout that demanded to be fed.
Getting a taste of this girl tonight had been like taking the first bite after a five-year famine and now I was ravenous.
Mouth watering and desperate to consume.
“I should go,” I forced out.
Rejection slashed through Violet’s expression.
“You never should have come,” her father hissed.
He was right.
One-hundred-percent.
“No. I shouldn’t have.”
That rejection turned into a full-on tumult, torment crashing through Violet’s demeanor.
I wanted to rush her.
Tell her it was a lie. That I would change it if I could.
But I was tied.
Obligated to this debt.
Still, I couldn’t leave her there that way.
Not again.
The consequences could go fuck themselves.
I edged forward while her father seethed, and I traced my fingertip along the music note tattooed on her wrist, my admission low where I murmured it at her ear, “That is the one lie I never told.”
A tiny cry slipped up her throat, and I forced myself to walk.
I needed to get out from under her roof.
Out from under her spell before I fucked this up more than I already had.
I headed back for the stairs. Mr. Marin stood on the other side of them where he’d come out of his room. I paused for a moment, looked him dead in the eye. “I’m sorry.”
For his wife.
For his daughters.
For every-fucking-thing.
His lips flattened in misery. He gave me no response other than moving closer to his daughter. Shielding her from my depravity.
I turned and bounded downstairs, refusing to look back to meet her stare that I could feel following me.
Energy thinning. Stretching and pulling. Calling me back.
Gritting my teeth, I refused it and sped up. I flew out the door, and I thought for the first time in my life I was actually thanking God that Rhys drove like a lunatic.
I had to get out of there before I rushed back inside and told her everything.
Stumbling out onto the porch, I sucked for clear air like it might stand the chance of eradicating her from my lungs.
Like it might erase the feel of her hands that lingered on my flesh.
Rid the taste of her from my tongue that only made me want her more.
What I needed most was to obliterate the need of her from my soul.
I bent in two, trying to right myself. To get it together.
I had a purpose. A fucking purpose. I couldn’t forget it.
I straightened, and then my spine went rigid when I saw a darkened shadow lurking at the side of Violet’s truck.
A wave of protectiveness welled so fast I felt like I was going to come apart.
Rip someone to shreds before they had a chance to get close to these girls.
I would gladly die before I let that happen.
It was the one thing I could give.
I almost relaxed when the figure stepped forward, and I realized it was the worker from earlier who’d wanted to come to Violet’s rescue.
Saul.
That relief lasted for the blip of a second before I saw the hatred that marred his face. His lip curled. “Who do you think you are, coming here?”
That was all it took to send anger burning through my blood, disbelief tightening my hands into fists. “I’m not sure how you think that’s any of your concern.”
He pointed toward the house. “Think you’re wrong. Anything to do with them is my concern.”
I saw it there.
Possession in his stance.
The way the asshole was staking a claim.
I inched forward, coming down the stairs, aggression curling through my veins as I moved toward him.
Couldn’t stop it.
The jealousy that spun.
The riot that refused the idea of this prick touching my girl.
My girl.
My girl.
My chest clenched with the truth of it.