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There are two things in this world that piss me off more than anything else. One, being told what to do. And two, being underestimated.
I unclench my hands from his shirt, not knowing that I was squeezing so tight that my knuckles turned white. And I do something that he is definitely not expecting. Sliding my hands around his stubbly jaw, I bring his lips down hard onto mine. He remains still for only a second, and then, like a volcano, he erupts. His callous hands grab my waist, squeezing so hard that my back arches, pushing my chest into him. Our breaths are fast, uneven. His tongue parts my lips, tasting me, savoring me. I gasp as he bites down on my lip, and a small moan rumbles from my mouth into his. I kiss him like it’s the last kiss I’ll ever have, like my last breath will be taken between his lips.
His fingertips dig into me, and I can feel my panties dampen. He wants this. He wants me. And now, I’m going to give him exactly what he said he wanted. Sliding my hands down his chest, my lips still melded with his, I push off of him, watching the hooded almost-black eyes look at me in a way no one ever has. Like I’m claimed. Like I’m his. Normally, that would terrify me, remind me of Trey. But this look is so much different. Blue Eyes is looking at me with passion. Trey looked at me with hate. He never wanted to love me. He wanted to own me and abuse me.
I smirk. “See you later, Blue Eyes. I’d better go find me a good, nice boy to dance with.”
Spinning, I grab Chloe’s hand before meeting her wide eyes, her jaw on the floor.
She pinches herself. “Holy shit, that wasn’t a dream. We are totally doing this every weekend.”
I scoff, “No, absolutely not.”
4
Cam
Little Dove, Little Dove.
Thank God she walked away because after that kiss, I don’t think I would have been able to push her away again.
Clichés are stupid. Fairy tales don’t exist. But when she kissed me, I felt an actual spark between our lips. I’m going to chalk it up to static electricity.
I usually don’t send women away from me unless I want the chase. Which is fun in its own way.
As she walks away from me, I want nothing more than for her to turn around. But it’s better for her if she doesn’t. Nothing good would come from her being with me.
Good-bye, Little Dove.
“When’s the wedding?” Kos asks as he approaches me with Laura on his arm.
“Fuck off, Kos,” I growl, hating how affected she left me.
He and Laura disappear into the crowd as they try to morph into one person. And soon, I’m alone—my favorite place to be.
I scan the crowd. The place is packed. Eerily, it’s almost set up the same as the one back in Duluth.
When I first met Laura, I’ll admit that I thought we were going to be something special. We clicked right away, and we had fun. But we are so much better off as friends. I saw a girl burdened by so much pain. It’s weird, you know? Like attracts like. Laura has had a lot of loss in her life, but we aren’t as alike as I once initially believed.
She’s experienced pain and loss, but she’s never begged death to take her because dying would be the only release.
The pull I once felt toward Laura is long gone. I love seeing her and Alec together. I truly think they are meant to be together. I haven’t felt drawn to someone since Laura.
But the pull I feel to Little Dove is much different from the one I had with Laura. It’s almost primal. To others, those doe eyes look innocent, like a girl who has never seen trauma or pain. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.
I saw her scars, ones many people probably miss. But not me. I’m much too familiar with what scar tissue looks like. It almost glistens in the flashing lights, looking slightly translucent. It’s absolutely beautiful.
There had to be at least twenty to thirty small scars on her forearms, rough and jagged. Mismatched, different thicknesses. I don’t think it was from a blade of her own. They were all the same shade, meaning they had happened a very long time ago and they happened all at once.
Who is this girl?
My eyes haven’t moved off the pink-haired golden goddess since I found her a moment ago. She and her blonde friend are heading toward the bar a mere ten feet away, and I track them the entire time until they reach it.
My body drifts toward her of its own accord, being drawn to her like a magnet. She crosses her arms and leans against the counter, causing the thin gold material to rise up the backs of her thighs, stopping right below her ass.
She looks like she was molded by the most delicate hands, made to be the most beautiful creation in the world. Part of me thinks she knows it too.
This little brat shifts all her weight to her right foot, and her hips adjust, lifting the dress even higher, teasing the hell out of me. And she knows exactly what she’s doing.
