Po sighed into the pillows after Rebel left him before flopping over onto his back.
He’d fucked himself there and knew it. He’d gone too far, even for himself. As he’d mindlessly humped Rebel’s leg, his mouth on her tits, he knew what she was crying about, and it had turned him on.
His dead sister.
He clenched his fists and pounded on the bed beside him fruitlessly, muttering to himself every curse word he knew as he listened to Rebel sniffle in the bathroom while the water ran.
What was it about this woman?
He actually wanted to make things right but didn’t really know how.
But he didn’t want her crying in the bathroom, shutting him out. If she shut him out now, she’d shut him out forever. She was in there wondering how a future with them would work out, if he could only get hard from her pain. He knew this.
He’d made it clear.
But he didn’t know how to tell her the truth. That he’d done that to keep her from doing what he really needed.
All he could do was promise her it wouldn’t happen this way again.
With a deep breath, he sat up and walked to the bathroom door.
Knocking softly, he rested his head on the door.
“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. That was pathetic sounding. He tried again. “I’m sorry, Rebel. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Hopefully that would work. He wasn’t good at groveling.
The door opened, and he almost fell inside.
“Why not?” she asked, testing him, her hand on her hip in a pose that would have been cute if he didn’t know what was at stake.
“Because using your pain for my sexual gratification is wrong.” He sounded like a petulant child and grimaced as the words came out.
“Yeah, and there’s absolutely no way you could ever turn me on after a stunt like that. Feel free to get aroused seeing me like that, but don’t think I’m going to reciprocate.” Her words slapped him in the face, even as he’d just been thinking them, but hearing them out loud from her delicious lips had him reeling.
“It’s not like that.” It was exactly like that. Or another way that he couldn’t ever ask her to do. Rebel wouldn’t be into his fucked-up tasted. This exact conversation was evidence of that.
She pushed on his chest ineffectively, but he understood and took a step back.
“What’s it like then?”
“Never mind. Just know that I won’t do it again.”
She looked at him, deep in thought, her eyes bouncing around his face, looking for the truth.
“Ever.” He meant that. Whether he meant that he would find another way to get himself off, or never again with her, he wasn’t sure. But he would never use her own sadness as a way to get her into bed.
“Okay.” Her word was final, and she pushed past him to go back to the bed, where she picked up the picture of him and Daisy and lay down on the edge, curled up in a ball.
He wasn’t sure if he could join her, so he stood there, looking at her. She looked so fragile, so broken, as she traced the face of his sister in the picture with her finger.
He decided to go for it. He wouldn’t have sex with her, but he would cuddle with her. He needed his hands on her in some way, just to know they were okay. Or would be.
What the fuck was she doing to him?
Po slipped into the bed behind her, tugging her gently into the curve of his body. He looked at the picture she was staring at. Him and Daisy. Probably the only photo he had of the two of them together. It wasn’t like Mom owned a camera when they were kids.
“We went to an amusement park to see some band she’d been in love with,” he began.
“Muse. It was before they made it big, and she was in love with the lead singer.” Daisy had apparently told Rebel the story. He could hear the tears in her voice.
“Yeah. Them. But we rode every roller coaster in that park. Daisy loved roller coasters. She said she’d never felt so freeing in the out-of-control feeling s of them. Didn’t make a damn bit of sense, but those were her words. Over and over.”
He inhaled her scent in the crook where her neck met her shoulder, relishing it. She shuddered in his arms at his exhale. Rebel smelled like sunshine and good things, reminding him of that day at the amusement park with his sister.
“We were happy that day,” he murmured, his eyes closing. Her soft curves eventually relaxed, and he felt her as she sniffed back her tears. It was the most peaceful Po could ever remember being.
Without even thinking about it, he knew what she needed. Maybe he did feel something more than lust for her.
Oh, who was he kidding? He had real feelings for Rebel, no matter what he told himself.
She needed to know who he really was, so she could have real feelings for him. This perfect woman had given him so much, and he hadn’t reciprocated.
It was time for him to rectify that.
“When I was nineteen, Scorpio recruited me for his organization.” Po fit his body more closely to hers. “He traded in flesh, drugs, prostitution, you name it. He needed someone to deliver people to him. So that’s what I did.” He felt her stiffen. Did she know what he was doing? Did it scare her that he was telling her who he used to be? “By then, I had most of my body modifications and looked pretty scary, so I came for you; you knew you were dead. I was the boogeyman, the monster hiding under your bed.” He sighed. This was something that made him proud, but it was important that she understood who he was. What he was. “I would take him people. Women to fuck. Traitors to kill. It was my job. He paid well, in praise and money, and anything I could want. He brainwashed me to think I was his right-hand man. It wasn’t until I delivered Liam to him, and something inside me told me to set him up to escape that I realized I wasn’t. Scorpio replaced me as if I’d never been there, and I realized I wasn’t that special to him.” He paused, making sure she understood this next part. It was important for her to hear. “I’m already a killer, Reb. I can’t change what I did, any more than you can.”