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“And you don’t want to talk about your father. I get it. You don’t know me. And I can’t imagine the impression you have of me right now is very good. So just trust me. I’m an asshole.”
I scoff. “I think I can decide that for myself.”
“Just like you let me decide whether or not you’re a terrible person?” He shakes his head. “Let’s just stop this now, okay?” Apparently he’s not willing to wait for me to go. As soon as the final word leaves his lips, he turns and stalks away.
But I guess I’ve completely cracked because I can’t just leave it at that. I’m angry and it all just bubbles out of me.
“So that’s what this is now?” I call after him. “A competition of ‘who’s the worst’?”
He stops but doesn’t turn around.
But I’m not done. “You think you can just call yourself an asshole and that excuses everything. Well, guess what? I’m an asshole, too. I let a sweet, trusting guy believe I had feelings for him because I was afraid to be alone. I’m estranged from my only living relative because I’m too ashamed of the mess I’ve become to speak to him anymore. I’ve spent most of my life pretending to be this selfless, generous person when in reality it was all just a show. I don’t look at anything or anyone except to figure out how I might use them to make myself feel better.” I throw my arms wide. “So there you have it. I’m just a selfish bitch.”
He’s finally turning back toward me, but I can’t bear to look at his face. I don’t want to see his reaction to my words. It’s too late to stop them. Everything that’s been lingering just beneath the surface of my skin these past few days comes rushing forward—the guilt, the pain, the anger.
“It’s all a lie,” I say. “All of this. Everything I do. It’s all a lie. And I’m alone at the center of it. So don’t you dare act like you the only one who—”
Suddenly his hand is on my cheek, tilting my face upward, and before I have the chance to say another word, he’s kissing me.
Heat explodes through me even as my mind struggles to shift gears. But it doesn’t matter. A hot, wild energy pulses in me, and all the anger and pain I was finally expressing rushes toward this new outlet. My fingers clutch at Ward’s shirt and my mouth, hungry and eager, falls open beneath his.
For a moment, our lips grapple with each other, and then I wrench my head away.
“Asshole,” I breathe into the night air.
Something flashes in his eyes, but I tighten my grip on his shirt and pull him down to me.
“You horrible… despicable… asshole…” I say between my attacks on his mouth.
His hand slides to the back of my head and twists almost painfully in my hair. His lips are just as aggressive, his body responding to the energy of my own.
“You terrible… selfish… bitch,” he murmurs against my lips.
His words awaken a strange, mad joy in me. I press against him, and it’s not until he groans that I remember his injuries. I jerk back.
“Are you…? I didn’t mean to…” My hand flutters toward his nose, but he catches me by the wrist.
“Fuck it,” he says.
And then his mouth is on mine again, just as eager as before. His tongue slips between my lips, and a moan escapes my throat. And then we’re moving backward until I’m pressed up against the wall of leaves and branches. He tugs at my blouse with his good hand, and I help pull it over my head. I claw at his T-shirt, but with his sling it’s too hard to pull it off. We only manage to get his good arm free before he curses and attacks my mouth again. I don’t care either way. My hands grab at the exposed part of his chest, my fingers aching to touch every hard muscle. Meanwhile, he makes easy work of my bra, unclasping it with one hand. The straps fall from my shoulders and I toss the garment aside.
His lips move from my mouth to my neck, and every kiss is desperate, ravenous. His teeth catch at the tender skin of my throat as his fingers dig into my bare back. I arch against him, throwing my head back to encourage him along his hungry path. One of my hands clutches at his shoulder and the other buries itself in his hair. My body burns with sensation. Every nip of his teeth or touch of his lips brings my nerves to life in ways I never thought possible.
His mouth moves along my collarbone, and I dig my fingers into his scalp. I’m intoxicated by the smell of him, the feel of him in my arms.
He seems intoxicated by me as well. Just when I think his face is about to dip down to my breast, he tilts his head up and takes my mouth again. He kisses me as if he can’t get enough of the taste of me.
“Addis—”
I bite down on his lip. I don’t want to hear that name right now.
He doesn’t seem to mind my objection. He growls and moves his mouth more forcefully against mine. I dig my fingers into his shoulders. It feels like we’re fighting against each other, the way our hands and lips struggle, but we’re both ultimately after the same goal.
After a moment, I can’t take it anymore, and my hands fall to his belt. If I can’t remove his shirt, then I want to see the rest of him. It only takes me a moment to loosen the buckle, and then I’m reaching for his fly.
Ward has a similar goal. Rather than fish for the tiny zipper at the back of my skirt, however, he’s tugging the fabric up around my hips. When it’s high enough, he slips his hand beneath and hooks a finger around the waistband of my panties.
I’ve pushed his jeans down his legs at this point. He’s wearing boxers underneath, and the thin cotton does little to hide his body’s reaction to me. I run my hand over him through the fabric, and he moans. He jerks his hand, yanking my panties down in one motion. And then his fingers are on me—teasing, stroking, exploring. I was already aroused before he touched me, but now I’m dizzy with it. My legs begin to shake and I’m grateful for the hedge at my back.
His boxers move easily at the insistence of my hands. I push them down around his knees, then close my hand around his hard length.
He growls and bites down on my lip. His finger presses deeper between my legs, sliding inside of me.
“Asshole…” I say, the word a moan.
He moves his finger deeper, and I throw my head back against the hedge. My hand tightens around his shaft, and when I’ve regained motor function, I twist my grip and begin stroking him.
It gives me no small amount of satisfaction to see that his body’s responding to me as eagerly as mine’s responding to him. He drops his face once more to my neck and his teeth lock around the exposed skin. His finger continues its explorations, and I squirm, trying to handle the sensations coursing through me. My entire body is aching.
