Page 40 of Break Me

She clamps a shaking hand over her mouth when she sees my face, the swelling, the cut lip, the bruise blooming across my cheek.

“Oh my God,” she whispers. “Sam…”

“Don’t,” I say softly, leaning out to steady her. “Come inside. Before someone sees you.”

She nods, swallowing hard, and puts her small hand in mine, and I guide her through the window, pulling her against my chest the second she’s close enough, because I can’t not touch her.

She buries her face in my shoulder and lets out a sound that guts me. It’s part relief, part grief, and part the fear she’s been holding alone.

My ribs scream, but I hold her tighter anyway.

“Sam,” she whispers into my shirt. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m all right.”

It’s a lie. She knows it. I know it. But she clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping her upright.

I close my eyes, breathing her in, shaking with the force of everything I’m trying not to feel. “You shouldn’t be here,” I murmur into her hair. “If Knox finds out⁠—”

“I don’t care,” she says, voice trembling but sure. “I can’t stay away from you.”

And God help me, that’s the exact thing that terrifies me. And saves me. And destroys me. All at once.

“Sweetheart,” I whisper, pulling back just enough to cup her face, “if they catch you here⁠—”

“Let them,” she says fiercely, gripping the front of my shirt. “I’m not leaving you.”

Her conviction hits harder than Knox’s fists, and I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in.

“Don't,” I murmur, closing my eyes. “Don't leave.”

For the first time all day, the panic eases. Because she found me. She chose me.

Her breath catches when I cup her face, my thumb brushing the tear tracks along her cheek. She leans into the touch like she’s starving for it, like I’m the only thing tethering her to the ground.

“Sam,” she whispers, her hands sliding up my chest, fingers curling in my shirt, tugging me down.

The first brush of her lips is soft, desperate, searching.

I kiss her deeper, slower, letting everything that happened today fall away. All the fear, need, and the bone-deep relief of seeing her standing here, choosing me over everything she’s ever known. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and it nearly undoes me.

Her body presses to mine as my hands trace her hips, her back, the curve of her spine. With our mouths still tangled, I walk her back toward the bed. She arches into me.

“Tell me you’re here because you want this,” I murmur against her lips.

Her answer is immediate. “I want you.”

The world narrows to her touch. Her breath. Her pulse fluttering beneath my hands.

Lowering her onto the edge of the mattress, her knees frame my hips as I lean over her. She looks up at me like I’m something she’s been waiting her whole damn life to touch.

“Raven.” Her name leaves me like a confession.

Her hands slide beneath the hem of my shirt, fingertips brushing skin. It’s barely a touch, just the ghost of her fingers against my ribs, but pain flashes white-hot and I flinch before I can stop myself.

Raven freezes instantly.

“Sam?” Her voice is small, startled, and breathless for a completely different reason now. She pushes up on her elbows, eyes searching mine in the dim light. “Did I hurt you?”