When She Falls (The Fallen, #3)(93)

There’s a part of him that hurts.

He chases away the darkness by pulling me in for a kiss. My body molds to his with ease, like I was made for him.

When we’re touching each other, all the problems around us disappear. They don’t belong here between us. Not in this fantasy we’ve created.

But when we break apart, they slowly creep back in.





I wake up the next morning beside a sleeping Ras with a sense of panic lodged deep inside my gut.

Ras brought me here against Damiano’s orders.

The sheets are wet with my sweat. I push them off and slip out of the bedroom to get some water.

It’s early—dawn. The rising sun makes the sea look like liquid glass. I stand by the window as I drink my water and try to empty my head by focusing on the mesmerizing view.

Everything will be all right.

The mantra has no impact.

I’m not like Papà.

I don’t believe the lies I tell myself.

It might take some time, but given everything I know about Ras, eventually he’ll miss his friend. They have decades of history between them.

And what happens then?

He’ll grow resentful.

It’ll start slow, like the fuzzy white mold that appears on the surface of a peach. It’s so subtle, you’re not sure it’s really there. But with time, the skin will soften and dull. The decay will spread, and the fruit will deteriorate until it’s unrecognizable.

Until it’s rotten to the core.

And then it’ll be too late to fix anything.

It’s day five since we left New York, and I have no idea what happened after I left. I want to talk to Cleo. She’d fill me in on everything, and maybe I’d be able to find a way out of this mess.

If I go home, Damiano might take Ras back. I can tell him that I begged Ras to do what he did, and that it’s not his fault. All the blame could fall on me.

I know where Ras keeps the burners, but I’d have to get Cleo’s number from my phone first because of course I don’t know it off the top of my head. My phone hasn’t been on since Ras turned it off back in New York. It’s probably dead. I’d need to find a way to charge it.

What if the second I turn the phone on, Papà will be able to track me? I don’t know how that stuff works, but maybe if I do it quickly, it’ll be harmless.

I turn the idea over and over inside my head, but something nags at me.

Something horribly, awfully selfish.

I don’t have to call her today, do I? I can forget what Ras told me and go back to that blissful happiness of the first few days.

If I go back home, I’ll never experience this again. People spend their entire lives looking for something like what I’ve found with Ras. For someone who makes them feel content and wanted and loved.

I wrap my palm around the pendant he got me. A sailboat glides over the water in the distance.

Ras and I haven’t said the words, but they’re in our every action, every glance, every touch.

Yes, a few more days.

I walk back into our room and quietly enter the bathroom. The shower takes a while to warm up, so while I wait for it, I take a look at myself in the mirror. The bruise on my face is fading. The one on my ribs isn’t as visible beneath the tan I’ve managed to acquire. Still, these marks on my skin remind me of the past I’m trying so hard to forget.

I step into the shower and lather myself up, the water running in soapy rivulets down my body.

A sound makes me turn.

It’s Ras. He moves purposefully toward the shower, pulls open the door, and steps under the cascading water, backing me against the wall. There’s a frisson of excitement low inside my gut at the way his hungry gaze drags over my body.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice still thick with sleep. “I was wondering where you went.”

“I was only gone for ten minutes,” I tease him.

He’s already hard, and the head of his cock brushes up against my thigh.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, Peaches,” he says, moving closer. “I know how fucking crazy I sound, but I swear, even a minute away from you feels too long.”

My chest swells with affection so powerful that it feels like it’s about to burst out.

Sometimes, when I’m lying beside him, his scent all around me and his arms wrapped around my waist, it’s still not enough. I get the insane urge to burrow under his skin. To become one with him.

He presses his palm against the wall beside my head, closing me in, and leans down to kiss me. Teeth tug and bite on my lips. His tongue delves inside my mouth, and his other hand finds my breast.

I love how big he is compared to me. How when he stands like this, I can’t see past his boulder-like shoulders.

He snakes his palms under my wet bare thighs and lifts me so that I can wrap my legs around his waist. My eyes follow the mesmerizing dance his muscles perform beneath his flesh. Water sluices down his hard, rippling chest and round biceps, running in rivulets between the ridges of his abs.

“Honeymoon phase. It’ll fade.” I gasp when his fingers drag over my slit.

He chuckles. “I fucking hope so, because the way it stands, I don’t know how I’ll get anything done.” His fingers push deeper inside. “Right now, the only thing I want to do is you.”