Cross doesn't speak, and neither do I, and when a nurse comes in the room to check my temperature, she doesn't ask him to move, so we don't have to separate.

He's lying on his left side with his right arm draped gently over me, his face buried in my hair, and it feels perfect, which is how I know I have to tell him now.

My voice trembles. "Cross-" I glance over at him and find his blue eyes rapt. "I need to tell you something else. Remember what I said back at that cottage?"

He nods. His face blurs from my tears, my voice cracks as I whisper, "I had s.e.x with Jesus." I squeeze my eyes shut, and before he can jump up or say something that hurts too much, I add: "He made me!"

Maybe that's the worst part-the fact that I've been used like that-but I don't think so. Jesus was a vile person, a violent killer, and regardless of how good he was to me for most of the time I was with him... "He forced me to marry him, and he forced me to have s.e.x."

I draw my knees up, pushing Cross away a little, and cover my face with my hand as I cry.

"Tell me about it." Cross is holding onto me, and even though I swore I'd never tell anyone, I open up my mouth and let the words pour out.

"It was after we were...oh G.o.d, I can't even say it. Married. A rumor got started. That he was gay," I say tearily. "He was upset and so...he forced me to have s.e.x with him...in front of other people." There were lots of them: a whole room. "And it wasn't just once, it was..." I gasp, struggling to get air, and Cross pulls me to his chest, holding onto the back of my head like he's afraid someone will come take me away. He leans me back against the pillows and presses his finger on the oxygen tubing as he looks into my eyes.

"d.a.m.nit, Merri-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I nod, just focus on breathing, and when I get myself together, Cross pulls me tight against him again. "Merri," he whispers into my hair, "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I don't know," I sob. "I guess I was...ashamed!"

"You have nothing to be ashamed of." He pulls away from me and looks into my eyes; his blue ones look like steel. "Nothing, Merri. You were a f.u.c.king- fracking victim. Nothing else."

"But I'm ashamed of that!"

"What could you have done?" he asks me. "Were you bigger than Jesus? Could you have fought him?"

I shake my head; the tears are still pouring. "Things like this don't happen to good people who live the life they should."

He strokes my forehead, gently pushing my hair back. "If they happened to you, baby, then they definitely do."

I avert my eyes to the blanket and voice one of my deepest, most difficult feelings about what happened. "I feel like it only happened for one night, and other men and women-other s.e.x slaves-have it so much worse. How can I complain?"

He grips my shoulder. "Because what happened to you was horrible. That's why." He sighs, and I notice that his eyes are wet. "I hope when we get out of here you'll go talk to a shrink."

For some reason, the statement makes me laugh. "I'm not going by myself."

He threads his fingers through mine. "Then I'll go with you."

I rake my gaze down his body, looking for a sign that he's upset; disgusted. Searching myself for a feeling of regret. I've carried this secret for almost ten months, and every day, it's strangled me. I'm shocked to find that now, I just feel warm.

"Are you sure you're not...upset," I whisper.

His dark brows arch. "About what you told me?"

Tears wet my eyes again; I nod, struggling to keep my gaze on him.

"h.e.l.l yes, I'm upset." He takes my hand in his and looks into my eyes. "Merri, I'm upset for you."

Tears drip down my face again, but I don't bother trying to stop them this time. They feel good almost. And even though I'm still scared about what Cross might really think, I'm glad I told him. As if to demonstrate that I'm wrong-that he really doesn't think I'm damaged or disgusting-he pulls me to his chest and lets me cry.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't tell me not to.

I'm not sure how long I go, but I know when I'm finished, I feel lighter. Tons lighter. With a shaky hand, I shift my body on the mattress, angling myself so I'm looking right at him. I look him over, from his handsome face down to the splint on his right ankle. I didn't even notice that before.

"Are you okay?" I squeeze his fingers. "You hurt your foot?"

He nods. "It's just a minor fracture."

"What about your lungs and stuff?"

"Got a little fracked, but I've been discharged. I was better off than you..." He sounds hoa.r.s.e. "I didn't get there as fast as I wanted to."

And I'm surprised-no, shocked-to see his eyes glitter with tears.

Reaching up with our joined hands, I stroke his neck. "You got there soon enough-on both counts." And I can see in his sad eyes that he knows what I'm saying: I'm talking about Mexico, too. I pull him close to me. "You got there just in time. I promise."

I'm surprised to find it doesn't feel like I'm telling a lie. Tonight, at least, with Cross right here beside me, I feel like I'll be okay.

I nuzzle his cheek and bring him down beside me on the bed. So I can kiss his hair and catch up on loving him.

EPILOGUE.

We spend the night wrapped in each other. When the nurses come to check my temperature and blood pressure, they work around Cross. I like to think that they can tell how much we need this. When the sun comes up, shining brilliant pink on the windows of some of the buildings around ours, I'm lying between Cross's legs, my back against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around my waist. His left hand rests under my casted one. He can't hold it, of course, and I can barely move my fingers without pain, but I like our hands beside each other.

Yeah. It's that kind of thing. Like a high school crush. But so much better.

We spend the morning just talking. We turn around so we're facing each other, and in a low voice, so no monitors or cameras can hear me, I tell him more than I ever thought I would tell anyone about my time in Mexico. I cry sometimes, but Cross is always there with me, so it's not half as hard as I'd imagined it would be.

I think I'm getting discharged in a day or two. My lungs will be weak for a while, but my team of pulmonologists thinks that they'll recover in the next few months.

In the meantime, I'm posing as Cross Carlson's wife.

"I would make it official," he whispers at one point, when he's got his face hidden in my neck. I freeze, and he nuzzles me, then pulls away, so I can see his eyes. "No pressure. I'm not in a hurry. I just wanted you to know how I feel."

And I don't know what to say. My eyes are wide and I think my mouth is open.

Cross laughs. "You're as bad as I am?"

I can barely speak. "What do you mean?"

"The idea of marriage usually terrifies me. And I promise you, I'm not proposing."

I search his face, and when I see that he's being sincere-he doesn't really want to get married either-I laugh. I try to smile, but it comes out sad. "My last marriage kind of sucked."

"I know." He's not smiling at all. He takes my hand and kisses my ring finger, blazing through me with those bright blue eyes. "I'm gonna make that up to you one day. But for now you wanna just stick with the pa.s.sport?"

"Is that my official non-commitment commitment?"

He nods.

I smile. "Then yeah, let's stick with that."

We're joking when really, there's a lot to figure out. Not just who I am or where I've been, but where I'm going. Where we're going. I think we're both serious about the shrink, and I know that part won't be fun. But I have a feeling we're also both serious about the pa.s.sport. About our commitment to each other, whatever it is.

We're holding hands again when a doctor comes in. This one, I don't recognize. I sit up straighter, expecting to talk about my lungs, but the guy's looking at Cross.

"How are you, man?"

Cross looks at me, then at the doctor. "I'm good."

The guy looks us both over, then he smiles. "That's good. I heard you guys were headed out, was wondering if you'd like to do some of your pre-op stuff before you go."

My heart stops. "Pre-op?"

The doctor raises his eyebrows at Cross. "You haven't told your wife about our plan?"

I open my mouth to say, I'm not his wife, but Cross just shakes his head. "Not yet. But I will. And on the pre-op, can I give you a call in a little while?"

The doctor nods, looking from me to Cross and back to me. "Of course." He hands Cross his card, and I try not to feel afraid.

We spend the afternoon talking about the procedure Dr. Grantham wants to do, and when Merri is discharged the next morning, we walk together to the outpatient center to do blood work and schedule the surgery.

A week later, I'm back in one of those ugly a.s.s hospital gowns before the sun is even up. They give me something to swallow to start the 'relaxation process', and I take it even though I don't want to.

Merri lies her head against my shoulder as we wait, on a stretcher in a dreary little room, for them to come get me.

"How are you feeling?" she whispers after we pa.s.s some time in silence.

I squeeze her hand. "Sleepy."

"Go to sleep." She strokes my hair. I close my eyes, or maybe they close on their own. I can still feel her. Still smell her. I murmur, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to leave you."

I hear her smiling, even though I can't see. "I'll be here when you get back. Promise."

And later on, I find that she is.

OTHER BOOKS IN THE LOVE INC. SERIES:.

Selling Scarlett Love Inc. Book One.

Watch for Unmaking Marchant, Love Inc. Book Three, COMING early November 2013.

ALSO BY ELLA JAMES:..

Stained Stained Series, Book One.

Stolen Stained Series, Book Two.

Chosen Stained Series, Book Three.

Exalted Stained Series, Book Four.

Here Here Trilogy, Book One.

ABOUT ELLA.

Ella James is a Denver, Colorado author who writes teen and adult romance. She is happily married to a man who knows how to wield a red pen, and together they are raising a feisty two-year-old who will probably grow up believing everyone's parents go to war over the placement of a comma.

Ella's books have been listed on numerous Amazon bestseller lists; two were listed among Amazon's Top 100 Young Adult Ebooks of 2012.

To find out more about Ella's projects and get dates on upcoming releases, find her on Facebook at facebook.com/ellajamesauthorpage and follow her blog, ellajamesbooks.blogspot.com. Questions or comments? Tweet her at author_ellaj or e-mail her at [email protected]

ABOUT EDITING:.

I love almost everything about being an indie author. One of the few things I don't love is lack of access to the number of editors available to a traditionally published author. Did you know traditionally published books are often edited by four or more different editors? There are editors for storyline continuity and editors for grammar. Indie authors pay their editors out-of-pocket-and they usually have only one or two. Even the best editor can't stack up against four or five of them, and if you've read indie books, you've probably noticed that they usually have more typos. As an author, I know typos can distract from a good story, and I hate them. If you find a copy error in one of my books, please e-mail me. My e-mail address is I would welcome your keen eye-so much so that I'm offering to pay you 5 cents for every typo you spot. (The only caveat is we have to agree that it's an error). This message is at the end of the book rather than the beginning because I don't want you to go looking for errors. (There are easier ways to win money from me. Check out my Facebook page!) But if you are the sort that notices every error, my apology to you is this offer.

end.