Page 133 of Twisting Beauty

They had left her eyes open.

I needed it to stop.

I needed to not feel.

I needed relief. He could give me relief. I shifted in his lap, turning my face into the side of his throat and put my lips against his pulse.

He went still under me.

I rolled my hips against his and his breath caught. He hardened underneath me.

I kissed up the line of his throat. I caught his earlobe between my teeth. I dragged my hands down his chest and started pulling at the bottom of his sweater.

He caught both my wrists.

“Gray.” His voice had gone quiet. “What are you doing?”

His pupils were blown, his jaw set, his chest moving fast under my hands.

“Please.” My voice came out shredded. “I need you to make it stop.”

Something shifted across his face. “Who,” he said quietly, “taught you to ask like this?”

Fuck him. I didn’t need his pity. I needed him to yield.

I caught his mouth with mine, kissing him hard, pouring my grief into his mouth.

For one blissful moment, his mouth opened against mine. His hand came up to the back of my head and he was kissing me back, his body answering me.

Then he made a small pained sound low in his throat and broke the kiss, easing his mouth from mine in a way that knocked the breath out of me.

He rested his forehead against mine, his breath jagged. His hand, which had wound into my hair, softened, even as he held me there.

Close, but not close enough.

His shoulders were rigid beneath my hands, and his fingers flexed against my scalp as if he was he was barely holding himself back.

“Not like this,” he whispered.

I went hot all over. Anger surged up in place of grief—fast and ugly. I shoved at his chest and tried to climb off his lap.

“Fuck you.” My voice cracked. “Fuck off if you don’t want me.”

His arms came around me and locked, gathering me back against him, his hand splayed wide between my shoulder blades.

The more I tried to twist out of his grip, the tighter he held me.

I hit his back with my fists over and over. But he just took it.

“No.” My voice broke on it. “No, no, no⁠—”

He didn’t let me go.

The fight bled out of me, my arms collapsing around him as my righteous anger receded.

Grief roared up again. Painful ugly grief.

I broke, sobs tearing out of me in raw jagged sounds, shaking my whole body.