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It sounded pathetic.
“You know what I mean,” I said instead, my eyes falling to his neck, tracing the black ink of his tattoo. “You’re not fucking with me.”
He laughed. “Don’t need to anymore.”
The statement hit me like a slap in the face.
I’d always figured there was a reason Elliot and his friends messed with me in school—I was smart, I had a crush on him, I hung out with a geek. But a lot of girls at Woodman were smart, and almost all had a crush on him. His words made the brutal four-year stint feel like it was arbitrary. I was an object, a plaything. A distraction.
It was for no real reason.
“So, what,” I said, my voice shuddering a bit, “you’ve found someone else to pick on?”
He turned his head, finally looking at me.Reallylooking at me.
“I remember it, you know,” he said, his breath clouding out into the freezing air like smoke as he broke the silence. “The things you said. And did.”
Again, he reached his hand out to me, and I went still as it came near my chin, his fingers hovering along my jaw. Even though he wasn’t touching me, I could feel my face burn.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he murmured, his eyes following his fingers as they tucked some hair behind my ear. “Why, after everything I did, you were still obsessed with me.”
I parted my lips to reply, but let out a small gasp as his hand touched my knee. It’s not like I had anything to say. He began massaging around it in small, slow circles as he leaned toward me, and I smelled his scent—alcohol mixed with roses and ginger. Hot breath, hot sweat.
He didn’t move any further, just looked into my eyes,heldme there.
“If you want,” he said softly, “we can pick up where we left off.”
My heart pounded in my ears. All I could see was his eyes. I’d already melted into them, already given myself to him long, long ago. Obsessed. He was right. I was obsessed with him. This was what I’d always wanted.
I nodded a small, almost drunken nod.
That was all he needed.
Elliot unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward, all in one swift motion as he kissed my jaw, and dragged his teeth down my neck.
I felt paralyzed.
He kissed me at the base of my neck, and his hand traveled up the inside of my thigh. I shivered all over. I grabbed him by his hair to tug him over to my side, but was way ahead of me—he’d climbed over to my side of the car and straddled me, pinning my head back to the headrest as his teeth continued nipping at my neck.
This was it.
What I wanted.
And fuck, it’s what Ineeded.
His cock pressed through his jeans, rock-hard. I ground my hips up against him with a punching force and felt his bulge press into me. He leaned his back against the dashboard, smirking at me.
His expression just made me angry.
“Fuck me already,” I breathed, and moved to claw off his jeans.
This was four years of pent-up sexual tension, held-back tears, boiling rage. I wanted it out, all out, into me. Giving him a hand job hadn’t been enough to end things. This was the real goodbye. I was done with the old Kat.
I was done with him.
He put his hands behind his neck as I undid his zipper, and he laughed as I struggled to wrestle it off of him. His laughter only increased into a fit of snorting giggles after I’d failed to tear the fabric off of him.
“What’s wrong with you?” I snarled.
