Page 73 of His to Keep

“Callum,” I pleaded.

Lifting himself up, lips red and swollen, he pulled his shirt over his head. I gasped at the scars still healing there. Burn marks that made my eyes water with tears.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, kissing my eyelids. “It wasn’t as bad as it looks.”

“They burned you?”

“Let’s not talk about it now, okay?” Leaning up, I kissed each and every mark they left on his body. His breathing quivered each time my lips rested on a would. “Ava. I can’t hold back anymore.”

Reaching up, I undid the buttons of his pants and pulled them and his boxers down. Spreading my legs, he entered me, and I gasped from how good it felt. He held me close, whispering how much he missed me, how he was never going to leave me ever again. And I believed him because I wasn’t ever going to let him leave me again.

Our love wasn’t normal, and never would be. He wasn’t my boyfriend—he was my lifeline. Even the time spent away from him, he haunted my entire existence. My year spent in captivity with him created a bond I’m sure doctors have many terms for. But even with our future uncertain, if we’d ever be able to lead normal lives, and the secrets we’ll take to the grave, I couldn’t imagine doing it with anybody else.

Because he has my broken soul, and I have his.

“You’re mine,” he said, rocking into me until a light sheen of sweat covered us both.

“And you’re mine.”

I was his to keep. Always and forever.