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He said we were right, but how could we be? I mean, he was privilege and butlers, and though my brother and I had Callum, we really didn’t. Callum was temporary, and I could never be privileged.
Did I ever want to be?
Dorian faced me in that moment, taking my hand, and things felt really crowded despite us being outside.
“Actually, could we get the wings?” I shrugged. “I think I’m hungry now.”
This would take some of the pressure off him too.
Dorian didn’t get up right away, but eventually, he waved Chestnut in. She trotted on after us, and Dorian and I ended up taking the food to his room.
He had his own wing.
Apparently, he lived in the west, a real honest-to-goodness prince. He left Chestnut out to play in the house and started a movie on a flat-screen above the fireplace.
Once he got that going, the pair of us lay on a bed made fit for a king. He had draping around it, the bedding silk, and he even had his own mini library. The walls surrounding the fireplace were lined with books, and when I asked him about them, he said he’d read them all. Before this moment, I figured he might just be a dumb jock, but I didn’t know why I continued to assume things about him.
We lounged on hi
s bed for nearly half the movie before he touched me, and like all those other times, I felt no pressure for sex. He merely took my hand, and it was me to initiate the kissing. His hand moved to my hip then, but even with it, he didn’t take things too far. Could I tell he wanted to? Sure. His kisses grew hot, hungry. His tongue delved into my mouth with delicious intent, but eventually, he growled and pulled back. He was physically restraining himself and so obviously for my benefit.
Reason #16: I have issues with anger and control.
He seemed to have corrected them both. I felt no danger with this boy. At least, not physical danger. I felt like the dangerous one at this point. I wanted to lose control, his chest hard, his body heated and solid above me.
“I want you,” I said, my lips pinching his. This was so hard for me to admit. I didn’t want to admit how much I wanted him.
Dorian’s nose brushed mine, his fingers ghosting across my neck. A devilish smirk pressed into his full lips. “You have me, little fighter. Always have.”
But I didn’t. Not always. I gripped his shirt. “Make love to me.”
And he needed to do it before I changed my mind. He had to before I pushed him away and got too in my head again.
He scanned my eyes, as if questioning the validity of what I said.
He didn’t question long.
On his knees, he caged me beneath him, his tongue probing and hot when it dove into my mouth.
“Tell me what you want.” His teeth lodged into my bottom lip, tugging. “Tell me so I know how far I can go.”
His kisses slowed, almost hesitant. He hovered above me, and when he touched my face, waiting, I knew he was serious about what he said. He didn’t want to push me, and I guessed I couldn’t blame him.
He was the first to admit how fucked up he was, but I was too. I was because I almost wanted him to be fucked up. If he was the screwed-up one, I wouldn’t have to think about myself.
He wasn’t the only one who had control issues.
I had a history of fighting and for a reason. I got people before they could get me. If I did that, they couldn’t hurt me, and that was how I always operated.
I needed Dorian’s dark and beautiful void. I needed it to mask my own issues. We both very much loved power.
Which made his darkness light for me.
We did work well together, almost too well.
“Tell me.” His thumb brushed over my lip. “Tell me what I can do. I’ll do anything, Noa.”
He covered my mouth with a hard kiss, and his dress shirt bunched in my fists.
