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“Shelethim beat you?” York grinds out through gritted teeth.
“Yes.”
“What happened then, Kid,” Dax mutters, his lips finding my hair and pressing a kiss there. His mouth lingers, and I feel the expanse of his breath as he breathes in deep, as though he’s drawing in my scent to keep him steady.
“He was out of it. High on alcohol and a cocktail of drugs… I tried to get out of his way, to leave, but he was big, and I was so small…” Choking down the rising sickness of that memory, I grit my teeth, willing myself to go on. “I knew if I fought, he’d make it worse. I let him hit me, and then when he stumbled and fell, passing out on the living room floor, I grabbed my shit and ran.”
“Why did you come to Jackson Street, Titch?”
“Because I literally had nowhere else to go. Zayn was the first person who looked at me like I wassomethingrather than nothing. Looking back now, I know it was stupid… Maybe it was the punches to my head affecting my decision-making skills.” I laugh bitterly, the sound coming out as a mixture between a sob and a croak. “Then I found you four. Complete strangers who didn’t question what had happened, who just knew I needed help. That meant, thatmeanseverything to me…”
“And this time, why did he beat you, Kid?”
“Because on New Year’s Eve he witnessed my happiness and that’s something David doesn’t allow me to feel for very long.”
“Fuck, Kid,” Dax exclaims, the shake in his voice evidence of his sadness for me and hate for David.
York swipes at his eyes, and I’m sure I see tears glistening on his lashes. “Come ‘ere,” he says, holding his arms open.
I sit up, shuffling forward and curl up against his chest, wrapping my arms around his back. Pressing my nose against his shirt, I breathe him in and try to rid myself of the memory of David’s scent. Dax shifts behind me until I’m enclosed between them both, their body heat and comforting hands holding me close.
I’m not sure when it changes from comfort to something far more intense, but before I can really think about what I’m doing, my lips find the crook of York’s neck and I kiss him there. A groan releases from his throat as my tongue flickers against his skin, his musky, manly taste exploding in my mouth.
“Titch…?” he questions, his voice wavering as he pulls back slightly, holding on to my shoulders. Behind me Dax shifts slightly, his hands gripping my hips above the material of the jogging bottoms I’m wearing.
“Please, don’t push me away,” I say gently, one hand covering Dax’s at my hip, the other resting on York’s chest, my fingers curling into his top.
“What are you asking for, Kid?” Dax asks carefully, the rumble of his voice seeping through his chest into my back as his lips whisper against my ear.
Swallowing down my fear of rejection, I decide to be brave. “To be loved,” I murmur.
Until this moment I didn’t realise how much I craved human affection. Used to being pushed away, beaten, belittled, and denied, I never once sought out any form of affection. Until now. All I know is that right here, right now, I need to be loved. I need to know what it feels like. I need to wash away the hurt and replace it with something else, otherwise I’ll go insane.
Dax’s fingers tighten over my hips as York’s eyes flash with the desire he’s been keeping a lid on. I can tell he’s fighting with himself, that he thinks he’ll be taking advantage of me in a vulnerable moment, but he’s really not. I want this. I want to forget my brother. I want to forget the Skins. I want to embrace these boys here and now. There’s a kind of desperation in how I feel, like they’re slipping away from me. It feels inevitable somehow.
“I want you to kiss me, York. I want to pretend for just one moment that I’m loved.”
Dax reaches up around me, his thick forearm flat against my chest as he grasps my chin gently in his fingers and urges my face to the side. I shift in his hold so I can look up at him. The pad of his thumb runs over my bottom lip as we stare at each other.
“See, here’s the thing, Kid. We don’t need to pretend…Idon’t need to pretend.”
My heart hiccups in my chest at his words, my own response dissolving on my tongue as he leans down and kisses me, obliterating any rational thought with his plush lips as he shows just how much he cares for me. Dax has never expressed himself well with words, so to hear his honesty is a gift that brings me so much joy.
“Oh, fuck,” I hear York mutter as Dax adjusts me in his arms so that I’m lying across his lap.
Cupping the back of my head, Dax kisses me long and hard. I can feel his dick pressing against my hip and it both thrills me and scares me at the same time. When I reach up, clutching at him, my small hands running over his shoulders and neck, Dax breaks the kiss and rips off his t-shirt.
“Feel this, Kid. This is what you do to me. Do you understand?” he asks, reaching for my hand and placing it onto the centre of his chest. I can feel his heart slamming beneath his skin just like mine is now. Two hearts that have experienced what it feels like to be broken only to beat again for someone special. “Do you understand, Kid?” he repeats.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Dax nods then lowers his mouth back to mine and kisses me until I forget David’s fists and cruel words, until I forget my mum’s years of indifference and abuse. If a soul had a taste, it would be found in his kiss. Inthiskiss. Dax, my dark angel, my protector, my forever.
When he lowers his hand, smoothing over my collarbone and resting his palm at the base of my throat, my beating heart reacts, slamming against my ribcage wanting to break free and offer itself up to him. He pulls back, a small smile making his face less serious.
“Kid, I need to stop.” His voice is gravelly, pained almost.
“Why?” I ask, fully aware my chest is heaving, and York is watching us both, his own breathing matching the weight of ours.
