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"Why did you do that? What the fuck is wrong with you?" she snarls angrily, crossing the few feet separating us on wobbly legs.
When I don’t respond, she slams her tiny fists against my muscled chest. The air escapes my lungs in a wheeze from the impact.
All I can do is shrug. I don’t really have a reason.
"Why not? I hurt you, and you hurt me. Now we’re even. Maybe hurting me is what you needed? I was just doing what I thought was right.”
“What you thought was right?” Confusion pinches her delicate features.
I nod. “Yeah. Before I showed up at the party, you had an agenda. It was clear you were going to get drunk and party. No one was going to stop you from doing what you wanted to do, so I simply jumped on the crazy train.”
Her eyes go to ice. "Crazy train? I’m not crazy, Drew. My mother is dead. The man I thought I lo...the man I cared about betrayed me. Broke my fucking heart, actually…”
Her confession burns more than the cuts on my skin. I'm terrified for one blinding moment that I'll never be able to fix what's broken between us. And that’s just a reality I refuse to live in.
"You know what? Fuck you. I'm done." She throws her hands into the air with a frustrated cry. "We're done. I’m not going to be that stupid girl I was before, waiting for you to break my heart all over again. Praying and hoping I was good enough for you when it was never a question of if I was good enough for you, but if you were good enough for me.”
I flinch and hope she doesn't notice in the dark. "Bel?—"
"No.” She turns to walk away. Fear grips my bones. I’m losing her again. She’s slipping through my fingers. I reach for her once more, but it's no good.
"Don't touch me," she growls, batting my hands away, slapping at my skin like I’m an annoying fly that refuses to leave. "Don't fucking touch me." Her eyes narrow in a way that proves my point. "I'm leaving."
"No, you're not because you want me as much as I want you. It’s twisted, and sick, and fucked up, but this is us, Flower. This is all we got…”
Her jaw clenches, and determination bleeds into every pore. Then like a kitten, she hisses, "Fuck you. Just watch me."
All over again, similar to that first night when I claimed her virginity, something dark and sinister grips me. It digs its claws into my soul, dragging me deep into its depths. I don’t want to hurt Bel. I really don’t want to, but I need to. Fuck, I need her pain, her tears, her fucking whimpers. I need to hear her begging me to stop, begging me to keep going. I've had enough of her denial and attitude. She can pretend all she fucking wants that she doesn’t want me, but her body and her heart will betray her every time.
She’s mine, and I’m hers. No matter what she says.
"Bel, I’m warning you now. Run and I'll catch you. There won’t be a damn thing you can do to stop me from taking you down to the dirt and fucking you so hard you won't spend a second not feeling me splitting you open. I will be written into your skin. Into your bones. So you can no longer say I'm nothing to you."
“You don’t own me, and guess what? I don’t want you, Drew. I never did. It was all fake. Every single word, emotion, orgasm. Fake.”
It’s a lie. Of course it’s a lie, there’s no way a girl who was a virgin before I took her can fake everything she did with me. But it doesn’t matter. Every last bit of control gives way, and while I’m trying to be better for her, she’s just unleashed something that won’t be stuffed back inside until it's had its fill of her.
14
BEL
Like a puma, he pounces on me before I can even step away from him. I need to get away from him. I’m too close to giving in and letting him have his way with me. He turns me in his arms, and I’m trapped. Both obsession and lust reflect at me in his dazed, manic eyes. He’s in full-on hunt mode, and nothing will stop him from taking what he wants, not now. Still, I have to try because my heart is on the line, and if I let him in again, I know it’ll end in nothing but heartache.
"Let go of me, you sick bastard. I hate you!" I screech, fighting against him. He licks his lips, a mask slipping over his face.
Tilting my chin up with his finger, he whispers, "It's interesting how much ‘I hate you’ and ‘I don't want you’ sound like just the opposite. You might say you hate me, but… " His hand snakes between our bodies, and I find myself reacting without thinking as he cups me between the legs, his fingers on my pussy, right over my tights.
Liquid heat and desire gush to my core from this one simple touch. But I come to my senses quickly and grab his wrist. "I don't want you."
He smirks. "Translation: Fuck me, Drew."
I lick my lips, my breathing growing ragged as I try to come up with an escape plan. "I hate you.” It’s more of a mumble than an actual statement.
He leans in close, his mouth brushing my earlobe. "Translation: I love you."
"Love?" I whisper, all the anger flushed out of me now.
The simmering heat from his touch remains, and I know no matter what he does to me, I'll want it. I need his hand on me in a way I'd only started to understand before he ripped out my heart and stomped all over it. Now, my head is a jumble of confusion, and my body is a raging mess of hormones.
