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He reaches out for me, but I struggle to push him away. He’s strong, even when drunk. “No. I’m not willing to pay the price.”
“No price.” He grins and his cheeks crease with those dimples.
Those beautiful, beautiful dimples.
My heart might have stopped beating for a second.
He told me I’m beautiful and he hates me for it, and it’s the same for him.
He’s so brutally handsome, I curse him for it every day.
I curse him every time I see a good-looking man and compare him to Xander.
I curse him every time I have fantasies and he’s always the main character in them.
I curse his perfect hair and ocean-deep eyes and charming fucking smile because they never belonged to me.
“I hate you,” I murmur, though my fingers dig into his T-shirt. “I hate you so much.”
“I hate you, too, Green.” His lips hover a few inches away from mine.
> “Stop calling me that.”
“I’ll call you whatever I fucking please. You’re my Green.” He grabs me by the arm and flips me so I’m lying on the bed and he’s hovering above me. “Now, shut up and let me kiss you.”
Even though my body is yelling for that and shouting at me to let him make my fantasies come true, because I know he will, I don’t give in to that urge. I plant both hands on his chest. “Are you going to be disgusted with me afterwards?”
“I’m never disgusted with you.”
“But –”
“Shut up, Green.” There’s no maliciousness behind his words. If anything, they’re playful, amused even, with a casual appearance of his dimples.
“The other time, you –”
“Shut the fuck up, Green.”
“Not until –”
My words die as he grabs me by my nape and invades my mouth. And I don’t mean a simple kiss. This time, he’s really devouring me.
It’s like he’s starving and I’m dinner. He’s on a stranded island and I’m his survival.
A moan rips from me as his body moulds to mine. The friction of his hard chest against my breasts and thighs elicits a violent shiver. My nipples tighten and strain against my camisole. A tremor grips me and my hands shake as I dig my fingers into his back – his strong, sculpted back.
It’s as if my hands don’t believe what’s happening. How do people normally react when their deepest, darkest fantasies come true?
If I had known, I would’ve probably done something about it. But right now, I just let myself fall into it, free fall and all.
Hard and fast.
With no landing in sight.
“Fuck,” he growls near my mouth. “Why do you taste better than in other dreams?”
“W-what?”
“Shh, don’t talk. If you do, I’ll wake up.” His fingers curl at the hem of my T-shirt and bring it over my head.
