I miss you.

M.

Hidden in the corner behind the bed, I stop breathing as I read the next letter.

They put me in the box yesterday.

As soon as they put me in there, my first thought was, “At least I can see Bella after this.” Then as the minutes—or maybe hours—went on, the voices got louder. They wouldn’t stop. No matter how much noise I made, they made more.

It’s worse than I remembered.

I wanted to die, Bella.

Thoughts of you were the only thing that pulled me through. But I couldn’t stop thinking about this one question. Do you think about me anymore, or have you forgotten?

I tried telling myself that there will be a letter from you waiting for me once I crawl out of Hell. But I should have known better, because I know the answer.

You’ve forgotten about me.

Pulling my knees up to my chest, I sob into my arms.

I don’t deserve him. I never have. I never will. I’ve taken him for granted; he should never forgive me for how terribly I’ve treated him.

I want you to know that even if you don’t miss me, you have been the only thing on my mind since I met you. Bars will never change that.

“Bella, what’s wrong?”

I snap my head up to the door, and a second later, I’m on my feet. Nothing else registers until I crash into his arms. Sandalwood and cinnamon soak into my skin, but I need more of him. My fingers find a home in his hair to draw him closer until there isn’t an inch of space between us. “I’m so sorry. You must hate me. I’ve been awful to you. Mickey—Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” I cry against his lips.

Pulling away, deep gray eyes bore into mine, the corners creased with worry. “Bella, what happened? Talk to me.”

I nod frantically. “I will. Whenever you want.”

I lean into his touch when he cups my face, and I hold his gaze. All he’s ever done is support me, and it’s time I support him too. “Why are you crying? Who do I need to kill?”

I bark out a breathy laugh, sniffling as I wipe my cheek. “The letters.”

He pales. “You…”

Pressing forward, I thread my fingers through the silky strands of his hair as my broken heart beats for the man in front of me. “Why didn’t you show them to me sooner?”

His forehead leans against mine, and I hug him tighter. I just want to hold him so he knows how sorry I am for being so selfish. All I’ve done is look out for myself when he looks out for me every day. But who takes care of him? Who makes sure he’s alright?

The answer is no one, and I promise to never let him feel that way again. Because I know what it feels like, and I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.”

“You could have shown it to me back at the Horror House,” I insist. I probably would have fought him less or gone with him more willingly. I think.

“The Horror House?” he questions, then shakes his head. “The letters aren’t important.”

“How could they not be important?”

He lifts a shoulder. “What we have can’t be simplified down to a couple of letters, Bella. I want you to want me because you’re everything I need.”

My skin prickles along with the hot tears. “I can’t give you anything.” I’ve never been able to. Mickey has always been the one to provide for me, chase the monsters away so I can sleep easier at night. All I’ve ever been able to truly give him is my fractured heart.

“You’re all I want.” His soft lips brush against mine, and I don’t hesitate to chase them. But it hurts because, even though I know he would never leave, I could have been so much better to him.

“I can’t give you dinner at six. I can’t wear a pretty dress and be as beautiful as you think I am, when all I want to do is disappear underneath the covers. I’m not this sensual goddess that can give you sex appeal.” Gesturing to the fraying bed behind me, I say, “I can’t even give you clean sheets.” I don’t know what it’s like to live when I’m not under a thumb, scared of the creaks in my own home.

“Who said I want any of that?”

“Everyone wants that,” I whisper, suddenly doubting why I’m still fighting him, when all I’ve ever really wanted to be is complete and by his side.

Hands curl around the backs of my thighs, lifting me so I wrap my legs around his waist. The stiff bed groans as he lies me down, towering over me as he runs the back of his knuckles along my jaw and whispers against my lips. “I want every single thing you are willing to give. I want takeout with you at midnight. Sleep-ins and sleepless nights. I want you crying, and I want you smiling, no matter the reason for either of those two things. I just want you, Isabella, whether it’s on an unmade bed or the forest floor. You’re all I need.” He kisses my wet cheeks. “You don’t know what I want, even though you’ve already given me everything I need.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 32

ISABELLA

My lips meet his, and I give him everything I have to offer. My soul, heart, and body. All of it swells and explodes, feeling too big for my little self to take.

That’s one thing about Mickey. We were never made for the silent type of love. We were made for the kind that shatters windows and breaks the earth’s surface. It’s fireworks and dancing and lime juice mixed with absinthe.

This time, he isn’t the one claiming with our kisses. I’m his just as much as he is mine. Our lips move in sync, labored breaths filling the space in between.

I claw at his t-shirt covered back, needing to feel his bare skin against mine like it’s the only thing that could keep me alive. He chuckles darkly as he rips his shirt over his head, tearing mine off before my heart can take another beat.

The cold air prickles my skin, pebbling my nipples into sensitive points as they ache under his heated stare. He doesn’t give me time to acclimatize before my shorts and panties disappear into the corner of the room.

His gunmetal eyes turn pitch black, as if possessed by a demon, descending on my core, devouring me like I’m the closest thing to food he’ll ever find.

Holy shit.

By my count, he’s only done this once, which doesn’t explain how he’s so good at this. Every time he licks along my entrance, my breath catches. Each time he takes my sensitive clit in his mouth, I see stars. He’s playing me like a professional who has done this for years.

“You’re stunning, baby girl.”

My back arches into his touch, begging for more. He licks and kisses and sucks like he’s never tasted me before, and he’s starved for seconds. The darkening gaze of his predatory eyes holds me hostage as two fingers slip inside me.

“Mickey,” I cry, my body arching from the bed as my hands latch onto his hair.

He doesn’t let up, sucking my clit while pumping his fingers in and out of me until the evidence of my arousal covers his face and hands. He keeps hitting that spot.

That spot.

The one that sends a thousand fiery butterflies fluttering through my veins, lighting me up like a firework. Hundreds upon hundreds of blinding sensations zip through my marrow. Tension builds and multiplies in my stomach, tightening around his fingers, layer upon layer of pleasure and pressure bringing me a taste of heaven as I scream out his name.

Until suddenly, it disappears.

“Holy fuck,” Mickey gasps, taking his fingers with him when he stands back.

My eyes widen, and my muscles wound tight as I snap upright. “What?”