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“Cole...” I plead.
“Why did you push me away after the party?”
It’s the last thing I expect him to say with his fingers buried deep inside me, but the flash of vulnerability in his eyes tells me this isn’t a joke.
“I...” He curls his fingers and I moan.
“You were saying?” A wicked smirk tugs at his mouth.
“You know why, Cole.”
Because this isn’t healthy.
It isn’t normal.
He killed someone and I… I kept his secret.
If I can do that, what else would I be willing to do for the broken boy from the Heights?
Cole attacks my mouth, his tongue setting a punishing pace that his fingers mimic. I don’t know if he’s angry because of what I said or everything I didn’t say, but he finger fucks me like he hates me, kisses me like he wants to suck the very life force from inside him.
And in the midst of this madness, I find peace.
All the pain and heartache and bad memories melt away as pleasure floods every inch of my body.
“Cole... God...” I scratch at him, trying to get him to let up, just for a second so I can catch my breath. But he... Doesn’t. Stop.
Not until I’m a boneless heap on the bed, my heart racing and my body aching.
He pulls away and rolls to the side, slipping back on the bed. Grabbing the bott
le of vodka, he tears off the cap and downs a quarter of the thing before working another Twizzler from the packet and shoving it in his mouth. “I’m never going to look at one of these again without remembering how you taste,” he says, and I let myself sag against the mattress, wondering how I ended up here.
Miss Jones is right.
My problems started with a boy... and all my problems continue to revolve around a boy.
But things with Cole are different.
We’re not seduced by promises of a bright future. We’re anchored to the sins of our past, fighting to stay afloat.
And somewhere, in the midst of the dark waters circling us, we found each other to cling onto.
Chapter Sixteen
Cole
“So, Little Dove, are you ready to talk yet?”
She looks up at me with her large, sated green eyes and I don’t need her verbal answer to know that she’s not.
Whatever she’s hiding, she’s holding onto it tight, and unfortunately for her, it only makes my need to know stronger.
I should leave it be, walk away and carry on with my own life.
Only I can’t.
I shove another Twizzler in my mouth, hating that it only tastes of sweet strawberry and not her.
