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“Stop trying to make everything better.”
Punch!
“Stop trying to control everything.”
Punch!
“Stop knowing what I need.”
Punch!
“Stop being so fucking perfect!” I wail, my voice no longer sounds like my own.
The screams and snarls from deep within my throat hurt as they tear free from my body. Each sound feels like razor blades, and I relish in the burn.
“Mia? What the fuck?” Coen roars, taking both my wrists into one of his hands.
“Fall with me, Coen. Lose control with me,” I demand, feeling my anger wanting to lash out at him again—like a viper coiling before getting ready to strike its unsuspecting victim.
Coen’s mirthless laughter sends chills down my spine, and I finally look at his face. His eyes are narrowed, lips set in a thin line.
“You want me to lose control? Or are you demanding my control?” he asks, a shrewd observation.
Growling, I lurch forward and suck his lip between my teeth. I tease the skin with my sharp corner tooth with a smile, adding more pressure when he remains irritatingly unmoving.
“Give it to me,” I demand again. “It’s mine, and you know it.”
This time Coen’s laughter is a challenge. “You know me better than that, babe. If you want something, you have to earn it.”
Isn’t that the truth!
Although it’s accurate, I know that’s not why he said it. It’s because this infuriatingly perfect man knows me better than I do myself. He already understands that it won’t mean anything to me if I don’t earn it.
I let go of Coen’s lip and tilt my head to the side before I strike, slanting my lips to his. The pleasure of feeling his soft skin against mine is short-lived when he remains unmoving and immobile beneath me.
Grinding my teeth, I move my hips against his stomach, screaming with frustration when all I feel is the zipper and buttons on his jacket. I try to wrestle my hands free of Coen’s iron grip, but it’s no use. He’s too strong, and with the way I’ve pushed him, he isn’t likely to give me anything.
“You want me to fuck all the frustration out of your body?” he asks with a challenge in his eyes.
Rather than answering him immediately, I let his words wash over me, let them penetrate the anger and helplessness I feel.
I open my mouth to agree that’s exactly what I want, but my body sags as I say, “No.” And that’s when I realize that’s not at all what I need. “I want you to make love to me.”
“Good girl,” Coen croons, letting go of my wrists before moving up to capture my lips in a sweet and tender kiss. “Let go of that anger before it swallows you whole.”
Knowing he’s right, I swallow down the sarcastic retort that comes to mind. “Make love to me, Coen,” I beg, wondering what that feels like.
The first time I had sex with Alec, it was pure fucking. It was about pleasure and nothing more. But the last time we were together felt as though we were loving each other with our bodies, much like my first time with Kas.
With Coen, it’s always been about the dare, the thrill, and the pleasure. And right now, I need more than that. Although we’ve both said ‘I love you’ to each other, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt it in his touch. The worst part is, that’s all my fault. I’ve used him as my scapegoat, and he’s accepted the brunt of all of it.
“I love you,” I say against his lips. Then I sweep my tongue slowly across the seams of his lips. “I love you so much, Coen. I’m so sorry for everything, and I promise I will do better.”
Coen’s hands find my hips just as I place mine on his cheeks. “I love you too, babe. Nothing is going to change that.” His words make a delicious tremble course through my body, and I don’t hide it.
Moving my hands from his face, I rest them on his chest, using his body as leverage to push myself up.
“Want to stay out here or go inside?” I ask, surprising myself with that question.
