My hand slides from the back of his neck down to his chest, feeling his heartbeat slam against my palm. He’s alive, vibrating under me, caught between wanting to shove me away and pull me closer. I can read him too well now—every hesitation, every flicker of want.
“See?” I whisper against his lips, dragging the words into the kiss. “You don’t need to talk. Your body already tells me everything.”
Leander makes a strangled sound and fists a hand in my shirt, yanking me closer instead of pushing me off. His mouth crashes back onto mine, rough this time, like he’s punishing me for being right.
I groan into it, grabbing his hip, anchoring him against me. The seatbelt digs into my side, but I don’t care. I’d break the whole damn car if it meant keeping him here.
His breath is ragged when I trail my lips down his jaw, to the line of his throat. His pulse thrums hard against my mouth, and I can’t resist—I bite, sharp enough to make him hiss, then soothe it with my tongue. He shivers, and his grip on my shirt tightens.
“Phoenix—” His voice is raw, pleading, but not with the word I want. Not with the truth.
“Say it,” I murmur, sucking at the spot until his head tips back against the seat. “Tell me what he did to you.”
“I can’t.” It’s breathless, almost broken, but his hips shift under mine like he doesn’t even realize he’s moving closer.
Frustration coils tight in my chest, but I bury it against his skin. If he won’t give me his words, I’ll take what he does give me. I’ll take every gasp, every tremble, every desperate kiss.
My hand skims down his thigh, avoiding his injured knee, squeezing firm at the muscle just above it. He jerks under my touch, a choked moan breaking out of him before he can stop it. I pull down his joggers, releasing his giant cock. I lick the seam, blowing air lightly on the head to make him shudder.
“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re—this is?—”
“Too much?” I lift my head, lips brushing his hip bone. “Or not enough?”
His answer is to drag me back up, mouth crashing against mine so hard our teeth click. It’s messy, wet, reckless, and I thrive on it. His walls are still up, but his body is betraying him beautifully.
I press him harder into the seat, swallowing his moans, tasting his fight and his surrender all at once. My hand roams, greedy, gripping his shaft, rolling the full length of him in my hand. He’s burning up, shivering, alive beneath me.
Every move, every touch, every sound he gives me feels like proof. Proof that he needs me. Proof that whatever hell his past left in him, I can rewrite it with my hands, my mouth, my obsession.
But still, I want more.
I break from his lips just enough to murmur against them, “You think you can hide from me, Lee? You think if you don’t say it, I won’t know? I’ll find out one way or another, but I’d prefer itif it came from your sweet mouth.” I squeeze his dick harshly in my hand.
His eyes snap open, hazy and dark, but there’s still defiance there. “Some things aren’t yours to have.”
I’ve got him trembling under me, his breath hot and uneven, his body begging for release even though he won’t say it. My hand hovers just shy of where he needs me, brushing his skin but never giving him enough pressure.
“God, fuck me.Please.”He growls in frustration, jerks against me, but I pin him tighter, lips dragging over his throat.
Begging on him is fucking delightful.
“Not until you tell me,” I murmur, voice low, hungry. “Not until you stop hiding from me.”
“Phoenix, please—” His voice cracks, desperate, but I stay steady, cruel with patience.
“You think I don’t see it?” I rasp against his ear. “Every time you flinch when I push too hard. Every time you lock up when I get close. You think I can’t feel the ghosts crawling under your skin? Tell me, Leander. Give me the truth.”
He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t?—”
I squeeze his thigh hard, my thumb brushing maddeningly close to where he’s already straining, but not giving him the relief he’s begging for. His back arches, a strangled moan ripping out of him.
“Tell me,” I demand again, harsher now. “Say it, or I’ll keep you like this all fucking night. On the edge. Needing me.”
His breath hitches. His nails bite into my arm. And finally—finally—the words break out of him, raw and broken.
“My dad,” he chokes. “He—he was a fucking addict, okay? Drugs, booze, everything. And when I—when he found out about me, about who I was, he—” His voice falters, catches like glass cutting his throat. “He hated me for it. Beat it into me every time.Said I was disgusting. Said I’d never be worth anything. Silas got me out. That’s why he acts like that.”
The words hang between us, sharp and ugly, and something inside me snaps. Rage tears through me so fast I almost can’t breathe. My vision tunnels, red at the edges, because the image of someone laying their filthy hands on him—hurting him for something so fucking pure—makes me want to tear the world apart.
