Page 11 of Break Me

I’d been sitting on the stairs in one of Knox’s old hoodies, pretending I couldn’t hear them arguing about what went wrong. But when Knox finally stormed off to shower, the house went quiet.

Samuel stood there in the living room, hands braced on his hips, breathing hard. His shirt was torn. His lip was busted, and his knuckles were split open. He looked wrecked. Dangerous. And unspeakably beautiful.

“Samuel?” I said his name as I stepped down one stair. Then another.

At first, he didn’t look at me.

“Wolf?” I whispered.

His head lifted slowly. Our eyes met, and a soft gasp slipped past my lips. The bruise along his jaw stood out even in the dim light, and there was dried blood near his temple.

He huffed out a breath. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie. A bad one.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I stepped closer. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You always say that.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t move. Just watched as I stopped in front of him. I reached for his cheek, my fingers brushing his jaw lightly.

He caught my wrist. Gently, like I was something breakable. “Raven,” he warned.

I swallowed. “What?”

“You know what.”

I shook my head. “I know what I want.”

His grip tightened, just slightly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I whispered. “Don’t want you? Don’t touch you? Don’t notice the way you look at me when you think I won’t see?”

His jaw flexed, and his eyes shut for half a second.

That was all it took.

When he opened them again, the restraint he’d been clinging to for years was gone.

“Raven,” he said my name like an oath a second before he pulled me in, his mouth crashing against mine.

His hands slid into my hair like he'd been waiting years to touch me this way. A shaky breath escaped me as he backed me into the wall, a rough sound rumbling low in his throat.

He broke the kiss for a split second, forehead pressed to mine.

“This is wrong,” he ground out.

“Then stop.”

He didn’t.

His lips were on my neck again before the words had fully settled between us. His hands slipped beneath my hoodie, his fingers brushing my skin and drawing a tremor from me.

“Tell me to let you go,” he said against my throat, his voice ragged with restraint.

I hooked my fingers into his shirt and pulled him closer. “I won’t.”