Page 35 of Twisted Needs

I drag him off to the side of the building where we’re tucked safely out of the way of pedestrians.

“Tell me,” I ordered him, backing him up against the brick wall. “Tell me you don’t want him. You don’t want anyone else.”

“No,” he whispers, looking over my shoulder. “You don’t get that.”

Everything in me tells me to stop. To back off because I’m acting like an insanely possessive dickhead. But there’s a pulling force deeply-rooted inside that’s telling me to fuck the consequences. Because he’s mine.

He’s mine. He’s always been mine.

“Say it, Anderson.”

“No.” He lets out a shaky breath and folds his arms. “Just stop,” he chokes out, swallowing hard. “You know this isn’t fair.” His eyes gloss over and by the way he’s breathing, I know how hard he wants to give in.

“Please,” I whisper anyway. “Anders⁠—”

“Jesus, Parker,” he bites out, shoving me away like he’s found his footing.

I didn’t realize how close we were even standing. Too close, at that.

When he closes his eyes, a small tear falls slowly down his face.

My body reacts before I even realize, immediately drawn by the incessant need to help. I reach out to wipe it away, but he swats my hand off before I can.

“Anders.” I reach out again and cup his jaw.

He flinches, contorting his head and striking me with a fist while pulling me by my hoodie at the same exact time.

“I hate you, Parker. I fucking hate you⁠—”

I know he doesn’t mean it.

My grip on his tightens, holding his head in place. “Just tell me you don’t want him⁠—”

“You know I don’t fucking want him⁠—”

That’s all it takes.

He whimpers the second my mouth crashes into his. There’s nothing gentle about it. Weeks of wanting him, avoiding him, pretending I can still do the right thing all hit me at once. My hand slides into his hair and I pull him against me so hard his back knocks against the brick.

Anders makes this broken sound against my mouth, halfway between a sob and a gasp, and then his hands are fisting in my hoodie even more, dragging me closer like he’s terrified I’ll disappear if he lets go.

I kiss him harder.

His lips are wet from tears. Mine taste like whiskey and regret. Neither of us care.

My thumb catches his jaw while I tilt his head back, and suddenly he’s kissing me back with everything he has. All the anger. All the hurt. Weeks of pretending we aren’t standing on the verge of something that’s going to ruin both of us.

He pulls away just enough to breathe.

“I fucking hate you,” he whispers again, voice shaking.

“Hate me harder.”

He whimpers.

I kiss him again, slower this time. Not because I want to, but because I have to. Because now that I know he doesn’t want Seth, the fight leaves my body all at once. My hand slides to the side of his neck, feeling his pulse racing beneath my fingers. Anders melts against me, his fingers still clutching the front of my jacket in a way that drives me wild.

“Parker,” he breathes. The way he says my name sounds like surrender.