He laughs and pulls back a little, the tips of my fingers grazing his rough stubble. “I’m not scared of you. What the fuck?”
He’s lying. I don’t know how I know, but I do. My eyes catch on the way he’s still covering himself, and he squeezes his body tighter.
“I just don’t like it when people see.” I don’t ask him to clarify because I know what he’s talking about. I have my own scars, and when people notice, they get weird, and that’s worse than treating me like I’m fragile.
But everything about him seems like an oxymoron, and I can’t help but ask, “Is that why you wear skintight shirts that show off your abs and jeans that have to be painted on? Because you don’t want people noticing how good-looking you are?”
He coughs, then stands up and takes a step back. “Is that what you think?” he demands. “I’m just some attention whore?”
His voice has a harder edge to it than I expected, and fuck, it’s doing things to me. My dick twitches under my robe, and the feeling of the fabric against it is almost unbearable.
“I don’t think. You make it obvious. You love turning me into this.” My words are still coming out unchecked, though thistime, it doesn’t feel like my brain is losing control of my filter. It’s more like my soul is desperate to unburden itself.
His eyes darken, and without warning, he drops his hands to his sides and closes the distance between us again. Even on his knees, he looms over me, staring into my eyes, lips parted. I think he knows I’m hard.
Fuck.
“Into what?” His words are quiet like a whisper, but rough with a growl. Then he reaches out and grazes a single touch over my jaw. “What do I turn you into?”
I moan. I can’t help it. No one’s touched me like that since Liam, and that was over a year before theIncident. My entire body lights up, even as I feel a surge of resentment crawling up my spine, because why now?
Whyhim?
“Do I make you want something you shouldn’t?” His touch grows bolder, more firm, down the side of my neck, across my collarbone. Again, without warning, he moves. But this time, he drops to his knees and lays his hands on my bare thighs. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”
“Fuck you,” I gasp, but he doesn’t even put pressure on my legs and I’m spreading them.
A slow smile crawls across his lips—dangerous and so fucking tempting. His fingers creep higher, and then he stops. “I know you don’t like me.”
“I—”
“We don’t need to pretend here. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.” He looks up into my eyes. “If you want me to let go, I will. I can stop right now, and we can pretend like this never happened.”
Oh, what an offer. It’s the dream. I can just close my eyes and wave him off and never have to think of this ever again.
For that, he should be sanctified.
I should send him the fuck away because he’s right. I don’t like him. He’s gorgeous and knows it. He’s arrogant and doesn’t care. He’s reckless with his mouth and with other people’s feelings…
And he’s the last man I should want.
And the only man who’s woken up this part of me since my life was turned upside down.
“North,” I whisper.
He seems to know what I’m trying to say in that single word—that single syllable. He surges up higher on his knees, one arm lashing around my waist as he tugs me forward. My robe splits, and my naked cock rubs up against his gorgeous abs, and he flexes as his other hand takes me roughly by the chin.
My lips part on a gasp, and he waits one single, solitary second before slamming his mouth over mine and taking me in the most devastating kiss of my life.
EIGHT
NORTH
This is maybethe best and worst mistake of my life. I’m going to regret every second of it the moment it’s over, but right now, all I can think is that Leo tastes exactly how I imagined.
Except no, he doesn’t. He tastes better.
He kisses like a fucking dream. His tongue is powerful and demanding, yet somehow also needy. He trembles like he’ll fall apart if I don’t hold him in my arms, and his nails dig into my skin like he’s terrified to let me go.
