Page 24 of Beyond Fate

Clay didn’t move, but his eyes flicked between my stare and my lips.

I was tired of holding back — I was tired of waiting to see what his motives were. It was obvious I didn’t care anyway. I’d let myself get shot for him.

And he’d killed for me.

He’d torn Park apart for me.

And I didn’t have it in me to resist him anymore.

My fingers knotted in his curls and I tugged him forward. He came willingly, pliantly, but he was careful where he put his arms. They caged me in, and I usually would have hated the feeling, but I didn’t.

Not when his mouth met mine and everything in my world seemed to realign itself — this… this was right.

This was what I’d been waiting for.

Clay moaned into the kiss and parted his lips, and his tongue licked into my mouth like he was trying to find answers to questions he didn’t dare ask aloud. I’d never been religious, but I was ready to bow down and worship at his altar if this was the reward.

I’d never tasted anything so good, and I’d never kissed anyone the way I was kissing him. It was all-consuming, burning through my chest and making me twist my torso up even though it sent a lance of pain shooting through my body.

My grunt made him pull back and dart a look between us.

“Fuck, you’ll pop your —”

My fingers never left his hair, so it was easy to pull him back to my mouth, half sprawled on the bed. He had just enough sense to keep himself lifted off me, but he was kissing me again.

I sucked on his tongue until he was whimpering, until I could feel him getting hard where he was half straddling my thigh.

I wanted more.

Fuck, I wanted everything.

But—

He pulled back again. Clay’s lips were swollen, and his pupils were blown. He couldn’t fake the way his breath was coming in sharp gasps, or the obvious arousal still pressed hard against my leg.

He couldn’t fake the flush to his cheeks, or the way his eyes raked to my lips again before dropping to the wound at my side.

“You’re going to pop a stitch.” His voice was low, husky… and his fingers gently brushed across my ribs.

“I don’t think I care.”

He pushed back, and my lips curled into a smirk when I noticed he wobbled for just a second before he pulled himself upright.

“I do. I’m going to bandage that, and then you’re going to rest.” He tried to keep a sharp tone, but his eyes kept darting to my lips — mine were fixated on the way his were red and slightly swollen.

I finally managed to tear my gaze up to look at him.

“And what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get our shit out of the car, and I’m going to make something for us to eat. Then, I’m going to rest, too.”

I swept a look down his body. Yes, he was still hard in his pants, but I could see blood on his nails, a little smudged along his cheeks. There were streaks of it blossoming to strawberry where I’d gripped his hair.

I bit my lower lip and tried not to laugh.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes and put a hand on his hip — blood smeared along the back of his fingers.

“You might want to take a shower first, so you don’t frighten your neighbors.”

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