Every cell in her body screamed in rebellion.

I killed Donna ricocheted off the walls of her brain until she wanted to put her hands to her ears to shut out the sound. It was a tragedy. And this was the life he lived. This reality was what he lived with.

This life was different to anything she had ever been exposed to. There was obviously violence and death. Along with that always came sorrow and regret. And yet here he was. Still standing but barely fighting. It was as if she saw him for the first time.

She didn't think she would ever forget the look on his face in that moment. He wasn't the tough biker. He wasn't the cold killer. He was a man who was being eaten alive by the guilt of a misguided mistake. He had obviously taken many lives before. The justification for those deaths was what allowed him to sleep at night. But Donna's death didn't have any justification. He had murdered an innocent woman. How did he live with himself? The simple answer was: he didn't. His coping mechanisms were failing him.

Her eyes filled with tears. He was deeply ashamed.

She saw his pain. She saw the devastation. And her heart broke. She reached out and touched his shoulder. He was so tense, his body as taunt as a string.

"Tig."

He didn't respond. His face was turned away from her and his lips were pressed together, holding himself in check. He needs to grieve.

"Look at me." She turned his face towards her. "Alex, baby, look at me." His eyes were the palest blue, almost white. She turned towards him and cradled his face. "You have to forgive yourself."

He just shook his head. No.

She tried again. "It was a tragedy. But you need to try and make it right. You have to let go."

His shoulders started to shake and a sob escaped his throat.

Her tears started to fall too. She kissed his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks and his lips. "You have to let go, baby. Let go."

His arms went around her, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe.

"I'm right here."

She didn't know how they got that way, but she lay on the bed, cradling him in her arms. The salt of his tears were moist against her neck. They didn't speak. They just held one another.

The pain and grief radiated off him in waves. Morena combed her hands through his hair and kissed his temples. Slowly, he kissed her back.

"Make love with me," he whispered against her lips. She didn't miss his choice of words.

Their lips met and she tasted his sorrow mixed with the salt of his tears. Her heart ached for him, her first instinct to make the pain go away. While she knew she couldn't do that, she could and would comfort him.

Eager hands pushed at clothing until they were both naked. He sat up against the headboard while she straddled his lap. When he would have moved them horizontally across the bed and rolled her under him, she shook her head and pushed at his shoulders. This was about him. She wanted to please him. She kissed him, their mouths hot and wet. And then she trailed similar kisses down his body – the corded muscles of his neck and chest – her hair kissing where her lips left off. Her tongue swirled around his nipples, excited when she heard his low moan. His hands were fisted in her hair, urging her on. She glanced up and looked at him. His eyes were pinced closed, his chest heaving, his head rested against the headboard. She knew then that she loved him absolutely. It should not have been an easy choice. Yet somehow, it was.

Her hands moved down and took his dick in her hands. The shaft was thick, hot and hard. When she touched him, his head thrashed as his hips involuntarily jerked upwards.

"Baby, I don't know if I will last-"

"Shh," she whispered against his lips. His arms came around her and their tongues stroked, lips sucking hungrily. Her hands fisted in his dark hair, momentarily forgetting her purpose. Hands reached for her and Morena straddled his lap once more. Without much ceremony, he guided himself to her entrance and thrust upwards. She gasped and he grunted.

Morena cupped his face, forcing his eyes on hers. His blue eyes were glazed, shadowed, hurt. She kissed him softly, her eyes never leaving his as their hips moved together.

"Let it go, Alex," she whispered as he plunged into her, her own pleasure threatening to leave her mindless when her nipples brushed against his roughened chest. She saw his jaw tighten at her use of his name. She wrapped her arms around him and felt him do the same. In the stillness, he thrust and she received, riding him hard, urging him to exorcise his demons for good.

"Alex." Her teeth bit down on his earlobe as her climax hit. "Let go."

He roared then, his seed pouring into her as her walls contracted around him. He'd let go.