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And then we’re fucking—hands clutching, gasps and groans mingling, sweat glistening off our slicked skin as he tears through me lust-crazed, possessed. Pain subsiding, I meet him thrust for thrust fucking him with fervor until a second orgasm hits, taking me by surprise. I tighten around him as his eyes go molten.
“Putain, putain,” Fuck, fuck, he curses, his hands covering my body, his touch pure electricity, as I begin to build again with every powerful drive of his hips. Sparks fire and ignite from cell to flesh as he pistons into me, the slapping sound tipping me over as another orgasm threatens. With its arrival, I bang on his chest, the friction too much. Jaw trembling, I come undone pulsing around him as he picks up speed, his fucking unforgiving while he claims my body wholly. My hate fuels me as I scratch at his chest, determined to collect some of his flesh beneath my fingernails.
And with every sure and damning thrust of his hips, adversary or not, I know I’ll never again crave the touch of another like I will his.
Trembling with this knowledge my back arches again as he swells inside me on the verge. His hand tenses on my breast with the first pulse of his orgasm. His body tremulous as his eyes open with the onslaught. He stares down at me, gasping out his release, unmistakable terror in his eyes.
And I’m thankful for it.
I’m thankful for every vulnerable second of it because I see the recognition when he realizes what I already know.
He didn’t want to feel anything, and instead, he felt everything.
We’ve just ruined ourselves with our hate for the other.
He palms the sides of my head as he stares down at me with something akin to astonishment. It’s only a flicker of revelation, but it’s there. His eyes drop as he pulls out of me and wordlessly grabs the towel nearby in an attempt to cover me. I bat it away, disgusted by his cowardice. If I have to bear witness to this, so does he. There will be no mercy on either of our parts.
“You have to live with it, too.”
My words strike him exactly where intended as his face draws tight, all fear quickly becoming replaced by fury. But I’m not the one he’s angry at.
He snaps to his feet, tossing the condom in my vanity trash before gathering himself in his boxers, his expression turns to stone as he begins slowly buttoning his shirt.
Flames fading, he eyes me, securing his collar when he speaks. “You should know better than to read into this. It’s sex. And it was business. Don’t take it personally.”
I roll my head back and forth on the carpet unbelieving of his quick denial. “You really need to get over yourself.”
He pauses dressing briefly, staring down at me. “I don’t blame you, Cecelia. You were taught from an early age to be a fixer. To crave affection unreturned and somehow believe it will be rewarding.”
He nods toward the battered library copy of The Thorn Birds sitting on my nightstand. “But that’s the difference between a boy in a book or a movie and a man in the real fucking world. Some of us don’t want to know the inner workings of your mind and heart, or throw away our pride, or tell you our secrets and confess our love. Some of us just want to fuck you until we tire of you and move on.”
I pull myself from the carpet and don’t miss his thorough sweep of my body. “Except you don’t live in the real world. You decided to create one of your own. And you’ll never tire of me. That’s your punishment for betraying them, same as mine.”
Face apathetic, he pulls at the cuffs of his shirt beneath his jacket and runs a hand through his thick black hair. “Belle et délirante.” Beautiful and delusional.
This, I understand. “I guess I am. After all, I’m just a little girl you couldn’t resist fucking.” He wants to hurt me. I can feel it—the hate, the rage—he feels rolling off him.
He went too far, and I went with him, but for a completely different reason.
But I’ll share in the punishment.
And I’ll crave my enemy.
Because that’s what we are.
“I’m not the only one that’s delusional,” I counter, grabbing my towel and securing it around me as his eyes narrow to slits. “And you’re insane if you think I’ll ever want to know the inner workings of your heart and mind.” I grab his suit jacket from the floor and toss it in his face. “Don’t take this personally, but get the hell out.” His eyes flame just before I turn and slam m
y bathroom door behind me.
I stand on my balcony and pull on the joint, gazing at the horizon in the distance, welcoming the calming effect with every inhale.
In seven weeks, I will be free. Free of Roman’s watch, free of his position in my life. In seven weeks, I’ll be far out of Tobias’s reach as well, his scrutiny and his judgment. I have two of the most powerful men fighting for control over me while I occupy space in this town. Until then, I’ll give Roman and Tobias what they demand of me to pacify them both until I leave, but it’ll be on my terms.
Because I no longer feel the weight of the pendulum swinging overhead.
Tobias had planned to finish me off with our shared act of betrayal, but unbeknownst to him, he liberated me.
Sweet freedom.
