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21
Pen
York pulls me into his flat, slamming the door behind us. Within seconds he’s pushing me up against his door, his hips grinding against mine. His kisses are frenzied, passionate and my head is swimming with the way he’s making me feel.
Hot, needy, desperate,mindless.
I can’t think straight. Goddamn him.
“I want to fuck you until we both see stars. Maybe I’ll light up just like the vampire dude you always loved so much in those books—” he states between kisses.
“York,” I mutter against his mouth, needing a moment’s breathing space as his words settle in my bones like a permanent tattoo. The fact that he wants me so bad and remembers my infatuation with a certain series of books makes me smile inside, despite my stupid brain trying to put a stop to what’s happening. My fingers rise up his chest and I push against him, despite my clit throbbing with need. “York, I need a second.”
He bites his lip, his ice-blue eyes heated, but he pulls back, one hand still pressed against the door beside my head, the other running through his hair. “Shit, okay.”
“I just think we need to talk or something,” I say a little helplessly, realising that’s probably the last thing we should be doing. Then again, the alternative is fucking and as much as my body wants that, I need to just reel myself in a little. Back when I was kid and realised I was in love with him, with all the Breakers, all I wanted to do was kiss them, fuck them. It’s all I thought about. I was plagued with fantasies just like this where York would kiss me like the girls he brought back to Jackson Street, with the same kind of intensity, and here I am pushing him away.
“Yes, right. Fuck.”
He pushes off the door, adjusting himself with a rueful smile. My gaze flicks to his erection pressing against his joggers, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from grinning and to remind myself that pain comes hand in hand with the Breakers just as much as pleasure.Keep your head, Pen.
“Come in,” he says awkwardly, a little bit of the boy I knew peeping out from beneath the chiselled jaw and dirty mouth he wears so well now.
I follow him into his flat, which has the same layout as mine. The only difference is that his flat is tidy. The room’s spotless, actually. My gaze falls to his arse and the swagger of his walk. It makes me smile inside. He was alwaysjaunty. It used to piss him off when I referred to him that way. Being jaunty isn’t cool, but it certainly suits him.
“Sit down,” he says, pointing to his bed.
“Thanks.”
York hovers in the kitchen, giving me space as I run my palms over the smooth cotton of his bedsheet and flick my gaze around his flat trying to avoid eye contact. I need to get my shit together. I need to keep my head. Seriously though, there’s always been something about York’s eyes that make me weak. It’s not just the unusual, piercing colour, but the way he watches me so closely, like I’m the only thing that matters to him.
“Want a drink or something? I’ve got a Coke?”
“No Amaretto Sour?”
“Beer perhaps…” he grins, with a shrug. “Still your favourite drink then?”
“A Coke is fine.”
York nods and grabs me a cold can from the fridge, our fingers grazing as he passes it to me. “So…” he begins, looking down at me.
“So…?” My eyes drop from his to the can. I pull back the tab and take a gulp, wanting to press the coldness against my cheek to prevent the flush I feel creeping over my skin.
“You wanted to talk…or something? Isn’t that what you said?”
Heaving out a sigh, I lift my gaze to meet his. We look at each other for long moments. When York takes the can of Coke from me and places it on the floor, my breath hitches. Taking my hands, he kneels, his thumbs running over my knuckles as he looks at me. Actually, as hestares. It’s unnerving, but beautifully erotic. My clit throbs some more.
“What is it with you boys getting on your knees for me?” I blurt out, remembering how Zayn had done the same in the studio.
“Ah man, he fucking didn’t…” York smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and it has me questioning what’s changed. When we were kids, there was never any jealousy between them when it came to me. Well, not enough to cause a wedge, anyway. We just worked. Xeno was the only one who made it difficult, until he finally came around that night at Rocks. I try not to wonder what would’ve happened if my brother hadn’t threatened me, if I hadn’t walked in on Jeb. Where would we be now? Would we still be together? Would we be happy? Or had Xeno been right all along?
“What’s the deal with you guys?” I ask, pushing thoughts of that night aside. It’s an open question that can be answered a multitude of ways. I’m interested to see which way he takes this.
“The deal? We’re still the Breakers.”
“That so? Still breaking things then?”
York heaves a sigh. “We’ve done a lot of fucked-up shit.”
