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I never want to force myself in, but I’m not sure I can walk away.
When this semester ends, I might be banished back to the dark recesses of Shiloh’s mind. Another fragment of his life he wants to forget.
But there will always be a part of me trapped here. In this addictive happiness of having a piece of something that should never be mine.
It’s a temporary truce that’s going to end in a bloody loss for me, but I’ll throw myself on Shiloh’s blade every time if I get to see that carefree, joyful smile again.
Chapter 19
Shiloh
I don’t know what to do with myself. Half of me wants to bounce out of my seat. The other half wants to sit and pick at my skin until it starts peeling.
Hanging out with Atty is always a blast. We even wrestled like we used to, even if it ended in an awkward silence when he accidentally elbowed me in my ribs, which haven’t fully healed yet.
Corvin made the judgment call that maybe it was time to go home and rest. By the way Noah was getting clingier and clingier to Atlas and my brother, I figured he might be right.
Now, I’m stretched out in the passenger seat of Corvin’s car, arms wrapped around the back of the headrest and toes stretched as far into the floorboard as they can reach.
“Are you alright?” he asks as the car roars to life.
The vibration of the engine helps the buzzing beneath my skin a little but not enough.
“Yeah. This happens.”
He pulls out of the apartment complex and throws a quick glance to me.
“What happens?”
How to explain it?
“This need to… I don’t know. Do something. Everything.”
His eyes stay on the road, but he reaches a hand over and rests it on my thigh. He squeezes, and I arch into his touch.
There’s a twitch of a smile at his lips, and I want to smack his hand away but my body wants him closer.
“Sensory seeking?”
I frown, feeling the energy settle some as he strokes his fingers up and down my thigh.
“No.”
He stops, and I have to bite my tongue so I don’t whine.
“No?”
“No. You don’t get to know what I need again.”
“Ah.”
He’s so damn smug.
“You’re already thinking of things to do to me, aren’t you?”
“Oh, I’m always thinking of what I want to do to you. But yes, I have some ideas to help you.”
Usually when this happens, I fight. I run to the building we rent for our self defense class and wear myself out until I’m too exhausted to feel anything else. Or I drag Atty out to a party to get drunk and hook up.
