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He wouldn't.
“You're lying,” I grit out, breathing hard through my nose. I refuse to believe it, “There's no way my brother would hit a woman.”
Lynx gets too lost inside his head, he cares the most, about everyone, he gets too caught up with guilt. He would never hurt anyone because he wouldn't be able to live with it. Shit like that eats him up inside.
But why would she lie, she knows I'd believe my own brother over her, so why even try?
“Whatever,” she slurs out, shimmying closer to the edge of the washbasin, intending to escape me, but all that does is put her flush with my hips.
She blinks as she feels it, slow realization of what it is pressing solidly between her legs has me hating my fucking self.
“Oh,” it's this soft, whistling little sound she exhales through her teeth.
Her light eyes flick down to where my raging erection throbs in protest against the tight confines of my pants. I grit my teeth to the point of grinding them into dust, watching her face. Her head sways just a little on her neck, her blinks slow, she glances down, looking at the sliver of space between us. I don't move, don't try to hide it, even though I know I should.
She blinks again, finally dragging her eyes back up to mine. This time there's no smile, no confusion in her eyes, it's like she sees me, and I don't fucking like it, but I can't look away.
“Does your dad always shout at you like that?” she flinches so hard, she grinds her cunt along the length of my cock and we both freeze.
She swallows at the same time I do. Our chests heave in unison, her tits brushing my pecs, the heat of her cunt seeping through the layers of fabrics separating us, sinking into my cock in the same way I'd quite like to sink it into her.
I feel out of my depth, out of my mind, my heart thudding so hard in my chest it feels as though it's going to break free of my bones.
“Why'd you care?” she shrugs one shoulder with the question, a frown line nestling between her dark brows, as though no one's ever done that before.
Cared.
Shrugging it off as nothing, even though it definitely feels like something, I tut, “Just… humor me?”
She glances over my shoulder, clamping her mouth shut, but her jaw has a mind of its own as she struggles to keep control of it. Still, I wait, not pushing, I’ll stand here all fucking night if I have to. I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be.
That’s what hits me like a bullet to the goddamn heart.
This isexactlywhere I want to be right now, of anywhere in the world, I want to be right here. In this dank little restroom with this fucked up girl in this old shitty bar.
I already have everything I thought I wanted, I don’t need anything but my boys.
I didn’t think.
I don’t think.
I look into the eyes of this girl as she finally draws them back to mine, my hands on either side of her thighs on the washbasin, my blood on her cheek. I don’t even feel it, the gash in my palm, cuts along the insides of my fingers from the shattered glass. I just look at her, staring into her wide eyes, seeing the tremble in her chin, I hate it, that look. A look my younger brother has worn so many fucking times.
Hopelessness.
I swore I’d never walk away if I saw that look on another face again.
That I'd do something about it if I did.
Possessiveness is like a punch to the face, a kick to the solar plexus, because it hits me all at once, making me see stars. All I see in her big eyes is pain, like my brother’s pain, and I don’t know what to do about it.
She’s derailing my plans as quickly as I make them. Knocking down my walls as quickly as I build them. Bulldozing through the carefully constructed bricks of her own downfall and she doesn’t even know it.
But that’s the point isn’t it? She doesn’t know it. She doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t know why Lynx broke it off with her, she doesn’t know what she did, she doesn’t understand anything.
She would have been five.
No good can come from this,absolutelyno good can come from this, and yet, it's the liquor I blame as my mouth crashes into hers.
