Page 45 of Pucked Around and Found Out

“Shut up,” I growl, then crash my lips back to hers.

I can't let her speak. Can't let her say whatever she's about to say because I know it'll be something that makes this worse. Something about the thing growing inside her. Something that makes me want to acknowledge what I refuse to accept.

My hands roam her body, sliding down her sides, gripping her hips, pulling her impossibly closer until there's no space left between us. The cold water lapping around us does nothing to cool the fire burning through my veins.

She's wearing nothing but a bra and thong, and the thin scraps of fabric are the only barrier between us.

It's not enough.

I need her naked, need to feel every inch of her skin against mine. I need to bury myself so deep inside her that I forget everything, the baby, the war, the fact that she's supposed to be my enemy.

My hand slides around to cup her ass, and she gasps into my mouth, her nails digging into my shoulders.

“Tell me to stop,” I rasp against her lips. “Tell me you don't want this.”

Because I need her to be the strong one, need her to have the willpower I don't possess.

“I can't,” she whispers, and the admission pisses me off as much as it relieves me.

I lift her effortlessly. Her legs wrap around my waist as I carry her toward the shore. The water streams off our bodies as I wade through the shallows, never breaking the kiss.

When we reach the sand, I don't lay her down gently. I drop to my knees and pin her beneath me, my body covering hers completely.

She arches up into me, seeking friction, seeking relief from the tension coiling between us.

“You're trying to destroy me,” I mutter against her throat, my teeth scraping the sensitive skin. “You're trying to rip me apart and I might just let you.”

“Then let me,” she breathes. “Let me in, Xaden. Stop fighting this.”

“I can't.” The confession tears from somewhere deep and honest. “If I let you in, if I admit what you are to me, then everything I've done becomes unforgivable.”

Her hands frame my face, forcing me to look at her. “It already is unforgivable. We're already damned. So why not be damned together?”

The logic is twisted and broken but it makes perfect sense at this moment.

We're both monsters.

Both scarred beyond recognition.

Both fighting wars that can't be won.

So why not surrender to this?

To the one thing that feels real in a world built on lies?

I kiss her again—slower this time, deeper—pouring everything I can't say into the press of my lips against hers.

Her hands slide down my back, nails raking over my skin, and I groan into her mouth.

My hand drifts lower, sliding over her hip, and I freeze when my palm grazes her stomach.

I jerk back like I've been burned.

Her mouth opens. “Don't,” I snap, sitting back on my heels and putting distance between us.

Toren's eyes widen with hurt and confusion. “Xaden⁠—”

“Don't fucking talk about it.” My voice is harsh, cold. “Whatever you're about to say, don't.”