“Shh. I thoughtImade the decisions now?” Atticus is smiling, just slightly, as he stares down at my mouth.
I… I did agree to that, didn’t I? I thought he meant for that one night, but honestly, forever doesn’t sound so bad.
“Right?” Atticus presses.
“R-right,” I agree, my knees feeling less stable the longer he holds onto me.
How the fuck did I end up here, trapped against Atticus again, when all I wanted to do this morning was run in peace? To hide away and cry?
But if I’m honest… kissing him again does sound a bit better than crying alone.
“That’s it, Cam,” Atticus purrs. “Let me handle it. Just listen. Can you listen?”
It almost feels as if he’s talking to a disobedient child. A puppy he’s training. Yet it calms me just the same; it makes me feel at ease.
“I can listen,” I pant out, watching his hazel eyes stare at my lips as if they’re his next meal.
And Atticus groans, a low and possessive noise that sends electricity straight through my veins.
“So good for me,” he praises, his fingers sliding up my jaw to cup below my ear, his nails dragging over my scalp and tangling my hair.
And holy shit, Iwantto be good. I want him to be happy with me and handle all the hard things. Like this very moment, the one I was drowning in before he appeared from thin air.
A barely audible whine leaves me, embarrassing and needy.
Suddenly, his lips are on mine, devouring and hungry.
I fall to pieces immediately, my lips parting and breathing in the scent of him—something earthy and full of cinnamon and fuckingdesire.
His fingers dig into my scalp, his other hand lifting to run up and along my side, my hip, and over my waist.
He’s licking into me, eating up my panting and my whining, turning me into a little bitch in heat, desperate for his taste and his attention.
And the best part? I don’t even have tothink. Every move, every lustful second is dictated by him and him alone. He guides my mouth, pins my hips with his, and devours me whole.
“I know what you need,” Atticus whispers against my lips. “I can feel it radiating off of your warm, hard body.”
“Atticus,” I groan, trying to rub myself against him but unable to with how he has me pinned.
So fucking embarrassing.
“God, that sounds good,” he sighs. “Say it again. Say my name.”
“Atticus,” I whisper, my eyelids slipping shut as his warm fingertips slip under my hoodie to drag over my stomach.
“Mmm, I’ll give it to you. You’ve been so good today that I think you deserve it.” He mouths my jaw, hot and wet. “You need to get out of your own head.”
It’s not a question; he’stelling mewhat I need. What will help me. And fuck, getting out of my own head doesn’t sound so good right now.
And yet, as I sag against him, I can’t help but wonder whathe’sgetting from this. Sure, I’m being distracted from my fucked up relationship with my mom and saved from being alone in the aftermath of her anger, but what does Atticus gain by licking my skin and tasting my desire?
He seemed to be interested in Cassie before, so what has changed? Why did he kiss me at the party, and why is he here now, taking away my agony and turning it into something hot and needy?
“You’re thinking too much,” he states.
“No, I’m not,” I insist.
Atticus’s fingers grip my chin once more, tilting my head until I’m staring into his bright eyes. He looks… suddenly displeased.
