Sin & Salvation

Chapter 36

We lay together in his bed naked, my head resting on his chest. I trace the tattoos on his stomach and watch as his abs tense up, clearly sensitive to my touch. My head swivels towards his face and he plants a soft kiss on my forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment.

How can someone so terrifying also be so gentle?

"Ticklish?" I ask, tracing the wings of the cherub on his stomach before looking back at him.

"Maybe." His lips turn up into a small grin and I can't help but do it back.

We haven't even had sex yet, but I'm more exhausted from the last hour than I've ever been with anyone else. I can't even imagine how I'm going to function after he fucks me. I glance around his room, taking in how clean and organized everything is. Not to mention how amazing the view is from the massive windows next to us.

"Your place is beautiful," I admit, taking it all in.

He strokes my hair, making me feel unbelievably safe in his arms. He's never been this affectionate with me and truthfully, I didn't think he was the kind of guy to be that way. Maybe it's because of everything he's been through or his cold demeanor, but it surprises me in the best way.

"I know. I can't imagine ever leaving," he replies.

Tracing over the spindly legs of the black widow, I ask, "How long have you lived here?"

A few seconds pass before he finally answers. "Since I was 17."

I look up at him in shock. "17? How the hell have you been affording a place like this since you were a teenager?"

"I haven't," he replies nonchalantly, laughing softly. I prop myself up on my elbows, giving him my full attention, and wait for him to explain.

"Well, go ahead," I say. "Tell me how you've managed to live in a massive penthouse in the city for free for the last— what is it? 13 years?"

He laughs and I can feel it in my chest, filling me with warmth. After a few seconds, he places a hand on his face, clearly deep in thought.

"After my parents passed, they weren't sure what to do with me. Because I was 13, they didn't think foster care would be a good fit. Nobody wants to adopt a teenager with trauma and a fighting problem."

"Fighting problem?" I ask.

"Yeah," he sighs. "When I got to middle school, I started taking all my anger out on kids at school. Would get into fights just to feel something, you know? Probably why I was so brave going up to my parents room that day."

He looks away, clearly reliving the moment in his head. I grab his hand, encouraging him to continue and letting him know I'm here.

"My bio dad was dead at that point and he didn't have any family that was either alive or capable of taking me in," he explains.

"What about your mom's side?" I ask.

"That's a completely different story. She came from old money, and when she brought home my dad who grew up in a trailer park with no money or ambitions, they cut her off completely."

My hand flies to my mouth. "That's so fucked up. How could you disown your flesh and blood because they fall in love?"

He just shrugs. "She had one brother— my Uncle Leo. He was a few years older than her— never married, never had kids. They had secretly stayed in touch for years without her parents knowing. He was the only one who knew I even existed."

"So you don't even know your own grandparents?" He shakes his head.

I can't even imagine not growing up with mine. I would spend weekends there all the time, making some of my best memories. It breaks my heart to know that he spent a childhood with a broken family, having to watch the only person he had be stripped so completely of herself, leaving nothing but himself to fend for.