“Enough sweet talk,” he hisses. “I’m done with this. Were the years of silence not a good enough indication? Was blocking your number, your pathetic attempts at an apology, not clear enough?”
Hot tears bleed down my cheeks, making me feel more worthless by the second. Atticus is staring at me as if I mean nothing, like hedoeshate me.
After a few long seconds of silence, because he apparently does want an answer, I mutter, “I miss you.”
And Atticus snaps. He completely and totallysnaps.
Warm lips press against mine in a painful kiss, teeth biting and hands gripping my sides in a bruising hold. I melt immediately, my lips parting with a desperate moan that Atticus gobbles up like a starving man.
My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer in my desperate attempt to hold onto him. To soak in what I’m given.
If Cassie were still here, if I hadn’t interrupted, would she be in my place in this moment? The thought makes me frantic, angry, and needy.
I rub myself against him like a whore, my body trembling as he dominates the kiss and controls my lips as easily as he’s always controlled every other inch of me.
“So fucking sweet,” Atticus grits out as if the admission hurts him.
But I don’t respond. In fear that he’ll hear my voice and come to his senses, I say nothing at all.
That doesn’t stophismouth, though.
“I loathe that I dream of this,” he tells me. “I despise that I want you just as desperately as I did before, even as you’ve hurt me.”
I want to apologize. I want to get on my knees and make it up to him. Instead, I suck his tongue into my mouth and massage it with mine, tasting him as thoroughly as I can.
Hints of mint, cinnamon, and something completely Atticus overtakes me. It makes my blood sing and my heart seize.
“Have you been faring just fine without me?” he mumbles against my lips. “Who’s been making your decisions for you? Who’s been touching you until you come, Cameron?”
But he doesn’t give me time to speak; Atticus doesn’t truly want the answer. His lips attack mine once more, his hands raising to fist my hair and maneuver my body against his.
This kiss—it feels borderline violent, as if he wishes to hurt me just as badly as I’ve hurt him, but with physical touch alone.
I groan softly into his mouth, addicted to the way he manhandles me, demands the right to call the shots, and makes my body shiver with pleasure.
My mind quiets; all of the previous stress of life and the anxiety I have come to face whilst being separated from him fade away.
I never want to leave this moment; I want to drown in Atticus forever. But that’s wishful thinking, and as we hear the sound of two voices drawing near, Atticus pulls away from me.
He’s glaring, but the sheen of heat in his eyes as he takes in my face tells me he’s missed this connection as much as I have. The only difference is that, between the two of us, I’m the only one willing to do anything to get it back.
I’m the only one who thinks we’re worth it.
“I’m not so repulsive now, am I?” Atticus spits out, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand as if he’s trying to erase my taste. And as I don’t respond, too hung up on the fact that this is the last time I’ll ever touch him, he mutters, “Pathetic.”
And then he brushes past me and leaves the kitchen, out of reach.
Just in time for two other men to walk in, their eyes wide as they spot me. I have no clue who the taller of the two is, but I recognize Landon, Julian’s friend.
How embarrassing.
I cough awkwardly, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Sorry. I’ll just go.”
Landon, with his bright green eyes and short brown hair, narrows his gaze. “You alright, man?”
“Yeah,” I insist, forcing a smile. “Peachy. Excuse me.”
I push past them, the way Atticus did to me moments ago, and spot the back door, immediately going through it.
