Savage_The Awakening of Lizzie Danton by L. A. Fiore

Author:L. A. Fiore [Fiore, L. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romantic Suspense, Contemporary Romance
Published: 2017-11-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

LIZZIE

It was late, almost three in the morning. Brochan hadn’t stayed. After exhausting both of us, he went back to his room. The man didn’t want me touching him, so actually sleeping with him wasn’t going to happen. My body ached. It was a good ache after the hours we spent fucking. I didn’t usually like that word when describing sex, but that was what it had been. There had been very little emotion; it was biology, pure and simple. Contradictory and curious because the man I had been spending time with felt things, deeply. He didn’t show it, had a nearly bionic control on his emotions, but he wasn’t the cold, unfeeling man people believed him to be, who I believed him to be once upon a time. For whatever reason, he held back earlier. What would it be like if he let it out? My body gave a pleasant shudder thinking about it. Perhaps it was wiser to keep that reined in. I might not live through it.

Brochan said he wasn’t looking to be saved. I wasn’t looking to save him. I understood some wounds cut too deep and his seemed to cut right to the bone. My mother was cold and manipulative, but I believed his father had been evil. The fact that Brochan could care about anyone—and he cared about Brianna, Fenella and Finnegan—showed the resiliency of the human spirit. His father hadn’t broken him, dented up and damaged, but that sweet boy Fenella remembered was still in there. He was just hiding. I wasn’t about to bring him back into the light. I lived in that darkness too. Sometimes people didn’t want out. Like he said, sometimes we just wanted to know we weren’t alone in it. But what would his life have been like had his mother lived? Who would he be had she lived? I didn’t know, but I did know I liked the man he was.

Perhaps his father’s grief broke him, but one had to wonder if he didn’t have that ugliness in him all along. People lost people every day, every second. Most didn’t turn into what Finlay McIntyre had. I think it could even be argued that what he felt for Abigail hadn’t been love at all. It was obsession. Love stemmed from something good and healthy. Obsession stemmed from something ugly. Brochan didn’t want love. He made that very clear during our hours of sex. He refused the intimacy of a kiss; and though he touched and tasted every inch of me, he wouldn’t allow the same to be returned. What was sad, he had love from Fenella and Finnegan, from Brianna. Maybe one day he’d realize that.

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