Running a shaky finger over my bottom lip, I tried to forget. Tried to ignore the awkwardness, the strange determination, and sweet eagerness that’d been on his tongue. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that it’d been his first kiss.

Testing, learning, figuring out how to do it.

My eyes widened, staring at Fox. The concept of him never kissing anyone seemed completely absurd. This male didn’t kiss. He plundered and took.

So why did I kiss a completely different man than the one standing in front of me?

Once again my heart popped with little bubbles of despair. The tenderness of a motherly instinct rose quickly. I wanted to tear through his inner turmoil and give him a person to confess to, lend an ear and nod in concern—to share his burden.

Because he was burdened. Heavily.

His gruffness and scar didn’t scare me. He spun a lie and the stench of untruths never worked on me.

Flashes of emotion appeared in his eyes.

My heart raced, bashing against my ribs. Taking a careful step forward, ignoring the bruising around my neck, I asked, “Are you alright?”

His eyes popped wide and he laughed. “You’re asking if I’m alright? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

I shrugged. “We all have triggers. I believe you when you said you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

He froze, staring as if I confused the hell out of him. “If we all have triggers, you must have one. What’s yours?” His voice stayed deceptively quiet.

I wasn’t being baited into revealing more of my secrets before I was ready. Shaking my head, I said, “That doesn’t matter. What matters is I promise I won’t touch you again. I can see it’s an issue for you. I’ve learned my lesson.”

And I’ll figure out the reason behind it.

Fox gritted his teeth. For a second, I wondered if he’d order me to leave—that he no longer wanted to buy me.

Finally, he nodded. “In that case, let’s proceed.”

Chapter 6

There were certain things in life that made sense and others that made no sense at all. Most of my life didn’t make sense—I had no freedom, no right to my future. I obeyed orders: slept when I was told to sleep, ate when I was told to eat, and killed when I was told to kill.

But my ruthless conditioning, the coldness that imprisoned my life, had cracked and splinted and begun to thaw.

And it was all because of one person.

One person who didn’t fear me. One person who pushed me beyond my boundaries and helped me find a way to wellness.

One person who could make it better.

I knew it was only a matter of time before I ruined it. But I wasn’t strong enough to stop it.

Tonight, I did the one thing that made the least sense of all.

I bought a girl.

And I would never let her go.

I couldn’t meet her eyes.

I couldn’t look at the red marks on her neck without being crippled by guilt. There was no correct etiquette of what to do after throwing someone to the ground and strangling them mid-kiss.

My first f**king kiss and I f**ked it up.

You should’ve done what you were ordered. I should’ve believed them when they said there would be no going back.

There were no guidelines, or manuals on how to break what had been drilled into me for twenty-two years. They created a machine and everything of who I’d been had ceased to exist. That kiss just proved it.

I’ve bought a woman, and I’ll probably kill her before I’ve even noticed.

My heart squeezed at the thought. I didn’t know her, but already she’d given me something incredible. She’d kissed me with nothing barred; she’d poured every need and dream into her tongue and licked me with passion. Her body pressed against mine, her heat sent my c**k rippling with the first pr**cum I’d enjoyed in my life. Everything overwhelmed me and I over thought the kiss, trying to understand how to tilt my head, how hard I could go without clashing teeth. It’d been consuming, amazing.

My hands curled with hatred for myself. I’d expected too much—I thought she’d offered me a miracle.

I let my guard down and broke my feeble control. One touch. One simple touch to send me hurtling back to who I’d been and using second nature against me.

Zel rubbed her neck, nonchalantly bringing her thick hair to cover her shoulders, hiding the majority of the bruising. “It’s okay, you know. I accept your apology. You don’t have to look as if someone will come and beat you.”

How did she guess?

I snarled, pacing away. “You don’t know anything. Stop trying to figure me out.”

I hated that I was supposed to be in control but every time Zel stole it off me. Either with her temper, her understanding, or her strength. I was one step behind and fumbling like a f**king buffoon.

I wanted to scream at her to let me inside—to give me power over her, but at the same time I needed her to remain strong. I needed her courage if she had any chance of surviving me.

Deciding to focus on the kiss rather than the aftermath, I stopped pacing and faced her. “What did you feel kissing me? I want to know.”

Her cheeks flared. “I don’t need to tell you. You know.”

“What do I know?” I knew her taste still lived in my mouth. I knew my c**k hurt with how much I wanted to plunge inside her, but I had no f**king clue what she thought. I wanted to know she was as affected by whatever existed between us as me.

Because if she doesn’t it’ll prove that you’re f**king unlovable.

The thought came from nowhere, and I sucked in a gasp. Fuck me, was this what rehabilitation felt like? Ripping myself apart, tearing away the pieces I wanted to be free from, flushing remnants of addiction from my veins. There was no doubt I was in withdrawal—not from substances, but from a conditioning that owned me body and mind.

Hazel murmured, “When you kissed me I felt everything. I loved the slipperiness of your tongue. The heat of your body. I could feel—” She paused before carrying on, “I could feel your c**k against my belly, and it made me want you. The kiss whispered of promises, and my body melted for you. Does that answer your question?”

Goddammit, it made me rock hard and drooling.

Zel was so different than the last woman. She was a comet, blazing through my dead world.

I’d screwed a total of one woman. She’d been like me: a belonging. We sneaked out of the establishment one night and indulged in what we’d seen people do on television. It hadn’t been great, more like a life experience I needed to get over with, but it’d given me a brief taste of connection. We hadn’t kissed. We hadn’t hugged—touching apart from the essentials was out of the question.