Second Debt
Page 59

The water waked as she jolted. Her hands landed on my chest, tensing to push me away.
I shuddered as her fingertips scrunched my shirt.
Then, instead of pushing me, she pulled me.
Her hand slinked up around my neck, tugging my mouth to hers.
I sucked in a breath.
And she obeyed.
EVERY INCH OF me hurt.
My lungs were battered and bruised; my throat raw and raspy. My head pounded and throbbed. Every time I breathed, it seemed as if my ribcage had one purpose in life: to stab my heart to death.
I was alive…and paying the price.
Drowning wasn’t fun.
Being drowned multiple times, even less so.
I never wanted to go near water again.
Yet you’re in a pool with Jethro.
You’re in a pool kissing Jethro.
My mind hurt trying to understand how he’d destroyed me in water, yet healed me in the same substance.
Cruel then comforting.
Murderous then reviving.
Two sides to everything—not evil or good or even aware of its perception. Just a single entity being used in different ways.
Water could be an enemy, but also a lover.
Could the same be true for Jethro?
His lips slid against mine. Wet and warm and gentle.
He didn’t force me. He didn’t try to control the kiss I’d given him.
And for that I was grateful.
I took my time. Tasting him—tasting his regret.
I did my utmost to swim deep into his soul where the truth just waited to be found. I needed to know what he suffered from. I had to find out if I wanted to remain living.
His head twisted, changing the direction of the kiss so our bodies danced closer. The tip of his tongue licked my bottom lip, shooting a ripple of lust into my belly.
I had to trust in him. Trust in this. Had to believe. Had to hope.
Opening my mouth, I welcomed his tongue inside. Licking him, encouraging him, giving into the dark and dangerous undercurrent flowing between us.
He groaned, gathering me closer. Pulling back, he clasped my cheeks with his large hands. “I want you to know.”
My damaged heart fluttered. I didn’t speak, but I knew my question glowed in my eyes.
Know what?
He sighed. His chiselled cheekbones and dark brows made him look guilty and sorrowful all at once. His thick eyelashes shadowed stunning eyes and his lips—they promised to be the perfect drug to make me forget about my pain.
In the hazy steamy world, I saw how tightly reined he was. His soul didn’t just have shadows—it had holes. Holes that might never be stitched together again.
He was heir to an empire worth untold millions. He was smart, capable, and strong. In hindsight, it was inevitable that I would fall for him. How could I not? It was almost a relief to admit that I stood no chance against his spell.
But if he’d ensnared me, then I’d ensnared him.
He suffered the same conflict.
Jethro brushed a thumb over my lips, his touch trembling softly. “You make me better even while making me worse.”
My throat tightened, triggering the soreness from previous screaming. The tattoo on my fingertip burned as if recognising he was my other half—whether I wanted it or not.
In so many ways, Jethro was old beyond his years, yet so young at the same time.
“You need to tell me,” I murmured. “Let me understand.”
“Can’t you understand that I’ve been fucked up ever since I first texted you? I’m insane, but you’re the only cure for my insanity.”
My heart thundered. The first verbal admission that he was Kite.
It was more than he’d given me before, but it wasn’t enough.
“I’m listening and not judging.” I couldn’t stop myself from adding, “And you made me the same way. I’m mad over you, Jethro. You have to give in.”
With a blended noise of frustration and grief, he kissed me again, twisting my thoughts with an eager tongue. I wasn’t strong enough to stay firm while he was determined to sweep me away. The kiss distracted me from what he’d said, what I wanted him to say. Despite myself, I mirrored him, massaging his tongue with mine, strengthening our desire.
Don’t let him hide.
My restraint barely existed, but I couldn’t permit him to change the subject—no matter if I preferred the new topic.
Breaking free, I pushed my fingers into his hair, holding him firm. “Tell me, Jethro. Tell me everything.”
He breathed hard, his eyes never leaving my mouth. “Isn’t it enough to know you’ve got me by the heart?” He suddenly grabbed my hand, splaying my fingers over his chest. “Can you feel that?”
My lungs stuck together as my heartbeat kicked into a flurry.
Jethro breathed, “It’s become so bad, I can barely breathe. For years I’ve struggled—my whole fucking life.”
I tried to take my hand back. I couldn’t stomach feeling the irregular thump of his heart beneath my fingertips. Its rhythm was screwed up, confused…lost.
His face held such yearning, such turmoil. Staring at me that way gave me too much power. Too much authority over his soul.
But it also soothed me—proved that having control in my future was right here—in my grasp. I only had to be brave enough to take it.
Curling my fingers on his chest, as if I could carve his heart out and hold it in my hand, I stared into his light coloured eyes. “Tell me.”
“I’ll tell you what I can…but later.”
“No, you won’t. Tell me now.”