Fall Into You (Morally Gray, #2)(74)

“What do I do with you?”

I know what he means. He’s still fighting with himself, and with every second that passes, he’s losing the fight.

So I gaze up into his tortured eyes and say softly, “Keep me. Love me. Make me yours.”

His lids flutter closed. For a long moment, I’m not sure what he’ll do. I sit watching him with my heart in my throat and my stomach in knots, wondering if I’ve pushed him too far.

But then he falls on me, crushing his mouth to mine and pushing me flat against the mattress, and the elation that burns through me is so bright and blistering, it’s like being burned alive.

With one powerful thrust, he shoves into me.

I cry out and shudder. He lifts to his elbows and tangles his fingers in my hair.

“Be careful what you wish for, baby. And if I ever say I love you, be afraid. Because my love isn’t soft. It isn’t pretty. It’s the monster hiding under your bed in the dark.”

Then he fucks me hard and deep, staring into my eyes as I moan and beg him for more.

When I orgasm, it’s with my fingernails sunk into the muscles of his back and his name on my lips, chanted over and over like a prayer.





Cole





I drop Shay at her apartment so she can change into work clothes, giving her a lingering kiss at the door. Then I head to the office feeling lighter than I have in years.

And more conflicted.

I know I’m not a good partner. I’m moody, secretive, and unpredictable. I’ve been told I’m generous, I’ve been told I’m a good lover, but I’ve never been told I’m kind.

Because I’m not. Kindness is a weakness for men in my line of work.

But that’s exactly what a woman like Shay needs. Along with all the other things I can’t provide her: stability, openness, patience. The list is long.

And what if she wants children?

I can see it now, an adorable mini version of Shay in middle school with a mouth like her mother’s when someone asks what her daddy does for work.

“Oh, he does stuff with money during the day. But at nighttime, he goes out and kills people! So don’t make me mad or I’ll tell him you pushed me off the monkey bars. Your body will never be found.”

Leading a double life is only workable when nobody else knows what you’re up. Add a wife into that mix, add kids…

Disaster.

The only viable option is to give one or the other up. Which I’ve been fine with so far. I’ve shaped my life around solitude and secrecy, but Shay makes me want all kinds of things I’ve never wanted before.

She makes me want to be better.

Which is problematic, considering I already know this is the best I’ll ever get.

I’m under no misconceptions that I’m salvageable. I’m rotten to the core. Nobody does what I do and finds redemption, no matter how much I believe that ridding the world of fiends like Dylan and Theresa’s husband is for the greater good.

So why the fuck would I think that Shay and I could make it work?

That bastard hope is playing mind games with me, that’s why.

So is that stupid goddamn book she loves so much. Nobody but an incurable romantic would think going through hell for half a century waiting for your one true love’s husband to die so you can be together is anything but a horror story.

Love in the Time of Cholera my ass. It should be called Idiots Mistaking Insanity for Romance.

I think I’ll burn my copy.

Fate decides this is a good teachable moment for me and sends me a ghost from my past in the form of a phone call.

I look at the number on the touch screen of my dashboard and tense. I hesitate before answering, because I already know this will be tough.

“Hello, Kiyoko.”

“I know we said we’d only communicate through Axel from now on, but I needed to talk to you.”

Her voice is soft and melodic. An image of her face flashes into my mind’s eye. Black hair and pale skin, bow-shaped lips and high cheekbones.

Dark, haunted eyes.

“What’s the matter?”

She exhales. “I miss you.”

I hate how sad she sounds. We haven’t seen each other in months, and our relationship was strained for a long time before that, but it doesn’t mean I want her to be unhappy.

Quite the opposite. I want her to live her best life, which is why I broke it off with her. Having me around only reminded her every day of what she’d lost.

Sometimes people cling to reminders of their grief instead of letting go like they should. Makes them feel like they’re somehow in control, when all they’re doing is tormenting themselves.

“Are you all right? Other than that, I mean.”

“I’m okay. Surviving. How are you?”

I think of Shay moaning my name as she dug her nails into my back this morning and smile. “I’m good.”

After a pause, she says, “You sound good.”

If she’s hoping I’ll give her an explanation, she should know better.

“Everything green with the move on your end?”

“Yes. No problems. Theresa loved the apartment. Cried when I gave her the keys. Her kid’s a sweetheart. You’re seeing someone new, aren’t you?”

My tone gentle, I say, “You know I won’t tell you that.”