Page 139 of Heartless Lord
Like he was trying to pour every unsaid word, every regret, every piece of himself into that one moment. His hands dragged me against him, holding me so tight it almost hurt, but I didn’t care.
I clung right back. Because if this was the only thing we got... I was taking all of it.
Every second.
Every breath.
Every piece of him.
I’d rather die in his arms than ever let go.
I couldn’t. Because this... this was everything. Everything I’d wanted, everything I’d waited for.
Everything that could still break me.
His lips slowed against mine, the edge of that frantic need giving way to something softer. Something deeper. His forehead dropped to mine, his breath uneven as it fanned across my lips.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. We just... existed there. Together.
And it felt fragile. Too fragile.
“I should’ve said it sooner,” he murmured, his voice rough, like the words scraped on the way out. “I felt it for years, Red. I just—” He huffed out a humorless breath. “I didn’t think I deserved to say it.”
My chest tightened.
“Then say it again,” I whispered.
His eyes flicked up to mine, something raw and unguarded breaking through the darkness. “I love you.”
This time it wasn’t desperate or rushed.
It was steady. And somehow... that hit even harder.
My throat burned, emotion swelling so fast it almost hurt. “Just so you know, you don’t get to say that and then go do something that takes you away from me.”
His jaw clenched, and there it was, the shift. The war inside him.
“I’m not leaving you.” But there was hesitation threaded through the promise.
I shook my head, my fingers tightening in his shirt. “You don’t get to decide everything on your own. Not anymore.” My voice wavered, but I held his gaze. “If you love me, then you don’t get to throw your life away like it doesn’t matter.”
His hands slid to my waist, gripping tighter, like he was grounding himself.
“You matter,” he said quietly. “More than anything.”
“Then stay with me.”
The words hung heavy in the air between us.
His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes, like he was memorizing me. Like he was already bracing for something.
“I don’t know how to do that.” His voice was low, almost broken. “Not when he’s still out there.”
Pain lanced through my chest, sharp and unrelenting. Because I understood, and I hated that I did.
“Then don’t do it alone. Stop trying to carry everything like you’re the only one who gets a say in how this ends.”
Silence stretched between us again, but this time it wasn’t empty.
