“Yes,” he said. “Take it. Take all of it, baby. Take all of me.”
I pushed my hips backward, giving him the best access I could. Whatever he needed, I would give it. I’d always give it.
He took me harder, harder, harder, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting…until my body was so ready, but the position didn’t give me the friction I needed against my clit. I tried letting my legs relax so I could rub against the bed, but he pulled me upward, continuing to plunge deeper and deeper inside me.
“Need. To. Come,” I said into the pillow. “Please.”
With one swift movement, Bryce swiped his fingers over my clit.
That was all I needed.
I erupted, he still thrusting into me, my whole body singing a discordant melody.
Yes, discordant.
This was different. So different.
Yet no less passionate and amazing.
“Keep coming, baby,” he said through puffs of his breath. “Keep coming for me.”
The pulses of my climax increased, as though hearing and obeying his words. Vibrant colors kaleidoscoped behind my closed eyes.
Different. So different.
Yet still the same. Still Bryce. Still Bryce and me. Still perfect.
He pushed into me harder and harder still, and when my climax finally began to subside, he groaned and spilled inside me, the walls of my pussy clasping him with each contraction of his cock.
He stayed there for a moment, his cock sunk into me, his hands gripping my hips. I stayed still beneath him, letting him take what he needed from my body. From me.
When he finally let go, he rolled over onto his back and pulled me into his arms.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
I stroked his chest, tangling my fingers through the hair coated with perspiration. Give him a few minutes before you pounce on him with questions.
I was determined. I closed my eyes and relaxed against his hard body.
Then—
“I needed to remember,” Bryce said softly, his breath tickling my forehead.
“Remember what?” I asked.
“Who I am.”
I lifted my brow. “Oh?”
“This won’t make any sense to you,” he said.
I moved away from him slightly and lifted my head to meet his gaze. “Try me.”
He closed his eyes. “I experienced some strange emotions today, after talking to”—he paused—“Dominic.”
“Dominic? Why?”
“I found out some stuff about Cade and my father. Stuff that shouldn’t have bothered me but did a little.”
“Bryce, you can be bothered about this whole situation. I certainly am.”
“No. You don’t understand.” Another pause. “Dominic told me that Cade was…was my father’s protégé.”
“Why would that— Oh.” I swallowed.
“Stupid as shit, right?” Bryce shook his head. “I was his son. I should have been— God, I can’t even say it.”
“He kept you out of that part of his life because you were his son. He loved you.”
“I know. It’s not enough that I feel tremendous guilt for that, but then he chose someone else to… I’m so fucked up.”
“You’re not fucked up, Bryce.” I swept his hair off his forehead. “You’re just a son who found out his father was a lot different than the great guy you remembered. I’ve been there. I get it.”
He opened his mouth, but I placed two fingers on his lips.
“Don’t. I know your father was worse than mine ever was.”
“That isn’t what I was going to say,” he said.
“Oh. Then what?”
“It’s the sliver of envy,” he said. “How fucked up am I?”
“Bryce, do you truly wish your father had brought you into his other life?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Then why are you torturing yourself over a stupid little slice of emotion that means nothing?”
“Because it sickens me. Seriously sickens me that I could even have the thought.”
“That tells you something right there,” I said. “You know the thought is wrong. Do you think you’re the only one who’s had a thought they didn’t want? That stupid little imp in your mind plays tricks on you. Mel told me all about it. Give yourself a break. You’re way too hard on yourself where your father is concerned, Bryce. First, you won’t let go of the guilt that he didn’t harm you and was a good father, and now you actually think that one morsel of envy actually means you wish he’d chosen you instead of Cade? That’s not what it means at all.”
“Yeah? What does it mean, then?”
“It’s means you’re a damned human being. You’re normal. You’re dealing with a lot. It’s more guilt.”
“More guilt? How is it more guilt?”
“Because Cade went through something you feel you should have gone through. That’s all it is.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Bryce
“Say that again,” I said. “Please.”
“What? You’re a human being. Just like me. Just like everyone.”
“No. Not that. The part about the guilt.”
“Well, I can’t take credit. I learned it all from Mel. But it seems like it’s all part of the guilt you feel about having good memories of your father and more guilt about others having to go through hell while you had a good father. It’s not envy. It’s guilt that it was him instead of you.”
God. So simple. And so clear once she said the words. “How can you see something that’s right in front of my face? Yet I was blind to it?”
“Mel taught me a lot. I’ve done a lot of the same things.”
The sliver of envy over my father choosing someone other than me as a protégé to his life of horror suddenly seemed like the nothing that it was. It stemmed from the guilt.
And it was damned time to let the guilt go. “I’m sorry. It’s self-indulgent. This isn’t about me. It never has been.”
“It is about you, Bryce, but it’s not your fault. There’s no reason for the guilt, just like there was no reason for mine. Does it go away overnight? Of course not. But I no longer have to indulge it. I was only hurting myself. In my case, both emotionally and physically.”
I cupped her cheek. “How did you get to be so smart?”
“I always was, babe.” She smiled.
I kissed her lips. “I know. You’re amazing.”
“I still think you should talk to Mel,” Marj was saying. “I’m certainly not qualified to—”
I silenced her with a kiss.
I had every intention of talking to Melanie once she and the baby were home. I knew these things weren’t solved in a day. But a huge brick had been lifted off my chest by this wonderful woman in my bed.
I was okay. I wasn’t jealous of Cade Booker. I felt guilty that it was him instead of me.
We had to find him. While he was out there, I could never be sure of Henry’s safety or baby Brad’s, or even Marj’s for that matter. He blamed me—and Joe—for what he’d been through.