“This is getting old,” Lina said as she slid her arms out of her coat and turned to me.

“It’s so far past old, you have no fucking idea.”

I fumed. I’d been worrying since the moment I got back to the hotel to find our room empty, all her things gone. No note. Nothing. But the moment she’d turned the corner, that worry had turned to white-hot anger.

Taking her by the arm, I dragged her into the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” She resisted but wasn’t much of a match physically.

“I’m taking you up on your earlier offer.”

“What?”

I slammed the bedroom door shut behind us and tossed her onto the bed, inadvertently tearing her blouse a little when I did.

“Stop!”

She scrambled away, but I caught her by the waistband of her jeans and yanked her back. “Take them off.” Holding her to me, I undid them for her, her effort to free herself laughable as I tugged her jeans and panties down to her knees, not giving her a chance to do it herself. I spun her around so she faced away from me and pushed her to bend over the edge of the bed, pressing one knee into her back to keep her there as I unbuckled my belt.

“Damon!”

She struggled beneath me, craning her neck to look back, to watch me double the belt over and grip the buckle in my hand.

I met her gaze, fury making my breath short and tight as I forced myself to count to ten before I began.

“You fucked up, Lina.”

“Damon, I know. I just…I—”

“I told you we’d work through this together.” I raised my arm. She fisted the bedcovers, readying herself. I swung, the sound of leather on flesh jarring.

Lina cried out.

I struck again.

“These are dangerous men.”

Two wicked red welts appeared on her ass.

“I told you I’d be back. I told you I wouldn’t leave you to handle this alone.” Three more crisscrossed those.

“Damon, listen to me—” She let out another cry at the next stroke.

“No. I’m done listening. It’s your turn now. And I’m going to let my belt do the talking.”

For the next five minutes, the only sounds in the room were those of leather lashing flesh, Lina’s cries, and my tight breathing. Throughout her punishment, she never once said she was sorry. And I didn’t think she was. Not about leaving like she had.

When she stopped struggling and lay prone, I moved my knee off her back and looked at her, bent over the edge of the bed, her jeans down around her ankles, her blouse halfway up her back, her bare ass and thighs striped red.

She buried her face in the bed, handfuls of the comforter fisted in her hands, and waited.

“You didn’t even leave a fucking note.” My voice was quieter, and I felt calmer than I had when I’d arrived, when I’d first seen her.

She twisted backward to look at me. “Punish me.”

I realized that at some point during her punishment, my cock had hardened. I thought how wrong it was that it should be, now, at this, at my hurting her.

Hurting her.

As if separate from me, my arm lifted, and I struck again. Her breath caught on a squeak. I shifted my gaze to her ass as she shifted her legs, inadvertently giving me a view of her pussy. A sound came from deep inside me, and I lashed her again, harder than before, wanting to punish her for this, for my desire, for making me want her. For fucking making me want her like this.

“Why do you do this to me?” I asked, striking again.

She let out a grunt, a mewl, but didn’t try to cover her ass or scramble away from me.

“Punish me,” she said again, this time without looking back. This time her voice broke a little.

Her skin burned a fiery red. I tightened the grip on my belt. Who was I? Who the fuck was I?

“More, Damon. Fucking do it. Give me more. I deserve it.”

Her eyes burned when I met them. I threw the belt on the floor, the buckle making a loud clanging sound when it hit the hardwood. I reached out my hand to touch her hip, both hands on her ass now, my throat working to swallow as I drew her apart and looked at her. Her flesh burned the palms of my hands. I rubbed two fingers over her wet pussy, her thighs dripping with arousal.

I met her gaze and held it before thrusting my fingers inside her.

She didn’t move but bit her lip.

“God, Lina. I don’t want to want you.”

“I need you, Damon,” she whispered. “I need you inside me.”

“This is wrong,” I said, shaking my head, my voice weak.

“Please. I need this.”

I shifted my gaze to her ass, unzipping my jeans as I did so, and shoved them down to midthigh. Fisting my cock, I pulled my fingers out and guided my cock into her pussy, closing my eyes as I slid into her, warmth engulfing me, a sense of homecoming.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

“Make me come, Damon. I need to come.”

I pumped, moving deep inside her, just wanting one more taste, one more moment, a millisecond. Then I’d stop. I’d stop. I’d give her what she needed. Take what I needed just once more, and then I’d stop.

“Fuck me hard,” she said, her voice a desperate plea. “I need you to.”

I looked at her. With my cock inside her, I reached into my pocket for my wallet, for the condom inside. Why did a man in my position have a fucking condom in his wallet? I pulled it out.

She looked at it. “No. I don’t want that. I don’t want anything between us.”

“Lina—”

“I’m clean. Just one time. I need you to come inside me. Please, Damon. You don’t understand how badly I need this.”

Just this one time. Just this one more time, then I’d let her go. Then I’d do the right thing.

I dropped the condom and thrust deep inside her, buried myself in her, because I needed this too. I needed to be this close to her. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands clenching around the sheets.

“Why did you leave like that?” I asked, not expecting—not even wanting—an answer. My eyes were riveted on her ass, on my cock disappearing inside her pussy. Inside her wet, pink cunt.

“Damon.”

She reached back with one hand and took hold of mine, clutching it tightly as I lay myself over her, my chest to her back, still thrusting, not wanting an inch of space between us, needing to hold her, as if being inside her wasn’t close enough. Like I could never be close enough.

“You make me do things, Lina—”

“Come inside me. I want to feel you. All of you.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I held her hand and gripped her hair with the other, twisting her head so I could kiss her face, the side of her mouth.

Resisting her was too hard. Too fucking hard. I felt like some animal, like a beast, a wild, rutting beast. And I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t get close enough, and when her breath hitched and her pussy throbbed around my cock and she made a desperate sound, I stilled inside her and came.

Fuck, I came hard.

I emptied into her, heaven and hell waging their twisted war inside me as I gave myself over to ecstasy, knowing it was fleeting, knowing this was all I could give. All I could have.

Knowing this would be the last time.

Knowing it had to be.

As the ecstasy of orgasm faded, a bitterness settled heavily in my gut.

I straightened and pulled out. I looked at her lying there, watched as my seed slipped out of her, slid down her thighs. It was all I could do. Because I couldn’t look at her, not at her eyes. Not yet.

She stood. The torn blouse she still wore fell to the tops of her thighs to cover her, to shield her from my sight. I pulled on my jeans, picked up my belt, and wound it through the loops before finally facing her, almost looking at her.

Lina touched a hand to her matted, wild hair, looking disoriented.

I rubbed my face, the stubble on my jaw. “Get dressed.”

“What?”

I was at the door. I paused and almost turned around. “I didn’t come here for this. I didn’t come here to do this.” I slammed my fist against the door frame and heard her gasp behind me. “Damnit! God, I didn’t come here for this!” Was I speaking to him? Angry with him? For my weakness?

“I hate your God,” came Lina’s small whisper.

I turned to face her. Saw the tears brimming her eyes, saw how her lips had narrowed, how she clenched handfuls of her own wild hair.

“I hate him. I fucking hate him.”

I had done this to her. “Lina—”

“Get out.”

I rubbed my face, wrapped my hands around the back of my neck.

“Go. Get out, Damon. Get the hell out. Out of my apartment.”

She came at me, pounding her fists into my chest.

“Out of my fucking life.”

I grabbed hold of her wrists and looked into her sad, mossy-green eyes that were shiny and bright with tears. She knew this was it. She knew this was the last time.

“Get out.” Her voice broke, and she dropped her head, stepping back.

I let her go and watched as she slumped on the edge of the bed. On the bed we’d just made love on. In the room that smelled of us, of sex and sweat, the comforter half on the bed, half off. Lina slid down to sit on the floor, her face in her hands.

Maybe this was for the best.

Fuck.

How could it be for the best? How could I leave her like this? No God would want me to leave her like this. Not even the one she hated. The same one I’d chosen.

Chosen over her.

Fuck.

“I love you,” I said, the words catching in my throat, making me feel as though I’d choke. “But this is a mistake.” I leaned against the wall and slid down to my haunches as her eyes met mine. My heart thudded against my chest, and blood pumped inside my ears, making it hard to think. Making it fucking impossible. It took all I had to keep looking at her, to see the damage I’d done, the damage I was doing. The hurt I’d caused out of my own selfishness. My need. My desire. “I’m sorry.”

“Get out.”

This time, she said it so quietly, I wasn’t sure she’d spoken at all.

“Get out, Damon.” Her voice cracked.

I stumbled, then stood. “I’m going to help you.” I said as I went to her, and tried to lift her to stand.

Lina shoved my hands away and stood on her own. I saw the effort it took for her to do so. To keep upright.

“You don’t hear me,” she said. “You don’t want to hear me.”

“Lina—”

“I’m calling the police if you don’t get out now,” she said, picking up the receiver. “I’ll tell them you broke in here. That you raped me.”

I opened my mouth to speak, taken aback by her words.

“I guess the church wouldn’t want you then, would they?” she asked, her back straighter, her voice full of venom.

I went to her, wrapped my hands around her arms, and sat her down on the bed. She let me this time, let me touch her as easily as she let the phone slip from her hand as her face fell.

“I’m tired. I am so tired. Please just go. Let me sleep.”

She wouldn’t look at me. She squeezed her eyes shut, and tears slid down her cheeks.

“I’m going to get the money to get you out of this mess with Alexi,” I said.

She didn’t reply.

“I’m going to help you fix this. Get your life back on track.”

She shook her head and finally raised her gaze to mine.

“I’m so tired.”

I watched as she climbed into bed and turned her back to me, drawing the edge of the comforter over herself. She didn’t speak again, and neither did I. There wasn’t anything left to say. Anything left to do. Nothing left but to close the door behind me as I left her apartment, taking her key to lock the door then sliding it underneath. Nothing to do but walk back to the church, chaos raging in my head, guilt squeezing my heart in a vice-like grip, blinding me, deafening me. Because I did love her.

After all this, I did love her.

Even as I walked away from her, I loved her.