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“I’m not denying it because the accusation is so preposterous that it doesn’t even merit a response.”
“You’re so full of shit, you know that?”
“I’m full of shit?” he questions. “Are you kidding me right now? This morning you told me we couldn’t be together—tossed me aside like I meant nothing—and now you’re standing here accusing me of things that shouldn’t even matter to you. So which is it, Bree—do you care or do you not? Because from where I’m standing it looks like you care a hell of a lot more than you’re willing to admit.”
“Fuck you, Anthony!” I spit.
“Fuck me? Fuck me?” he repeats, his voice going up an octave. “Yeah, real nice, Bree. Fuck me.” He throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “Do you have any idea how you’re behaving right now? You’re acting like a spoiled fucking child. You want something and then once you get it you don’t want it anymore. But fuck if someone is going to step in and take the thing you don’t want, even though you’ve discarded it.”
“Don’t fucking tell me how I’m acting. You think I don’t already know how crazy I probably seem to you. Newsflash, asshole, I am crazy. Or did you miss that somewhere along the way. Guess you should count your blessings that thisspoiled childisn’t your problem. Really dodged a bullet there, didn’t you? Now you and Courtney can ride off into the sunset together and live happily ever after.”
“I don’t want Courtney!” he roars. “I want you.”
I don’t let myself process the statement because I’m afraid of what will happen next if I do.
“No, you don’t. You might think you do, but deep down you know I’m not good for you.”
“You’re not good for me or I’m not good for you?” he questions.
“Does it really matter at this point?” I swipe angrily at a tear that manages to escape my eye.
“Why are you doing this?” Ant’s approach instantly softens, and he takes a step toward me.
“Because I hate you.” My voice breaks slightly. “I hate you,” I repeat a little stronger.
“You don’t hate me, Bree.” He takes another step closer. “You’re so far from hating me right now that the statement is laughable.”
“You don’t know how I feel,” I insist, more tears burning the back of my eyes.
“Yes, I do. Because I know you, Bree Kingsley. I know that you’re not nearly as tough as you pretend to be. I know that even though you guard your heart, you’re incapable of keeping love out. You’re smart and sassy, funny and sweet, and loyal to a fault. And fuck if you’re not the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I know you don’t hate me because when you look at me, I can see it in your eyes.” By this point he’s standing so close he can probably hear my heart about to beat right out of my chest.
“I can’t.” I shake my head, trying to hold my ground.
“You want to know what I thought about tonight? You. When I looked across the table at Courtney, all I wanted was for it to be you sitting there. When we met Sebastian and Tess for drinks and Courtney tried to hold my hand, all I wanted was for it to be your hand. You consume me, Bree. You fucking own me. Do you hear me?” He takes my hand and flattens my palm against his chest. “You own me,” he repeats, his eyes boring into mine.
I don’t know at what point his lips touch mine. All I know is that once they do, I’m lost to the touch. I melt into his embrace like it’s the only place I’ve ever belonged. Honestly, I think it is.
Ant runs his tongue along the seam of my mouth, and I instantly open to him—wanting more, taking more. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me.
Ant follows my lead, understands my need to for control. But as my grasp on the situation slips even he, the poster child for self-control, seems to reach his breaking point and that’s when he swoops down and pulls me into his arms; as if to saythis is happening right here right now, and I love the way his assertiveness makes me feel. Like he wants me so badly he can’t wait another second.
Being wanted so intensely by someone like Anthony is like being the last drop of water to a drowning man—like he needs me to live, and I cling to the way that makes me feel.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I move my lips down his jaw and across the base of his throat as he carries me down the hallway into my bedroom. His mouth is on mine again the moment the door snaps closed behind us, ravishing me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
I lose myself in the moment, to his touch, to the feeling of his lips trailing down my neck as he turns and deposits me on top of the bed.
The minute my back hits the soft mattress, something between us snaps and the thread holding our restraint in place is nowhere to be found. We start ripping and tearing at each other’s clothing, neither able to get the other undressed quick enough.
It’s rough and carnal. It’s greed and want. It’s pure animalistic need. And when Anthony finally enters me for the first time, I swear to God my entire world shifts.
He’s anything but gentle, slamming into me so hard every single part of my body rattles from the effect. I take all of him. Every single thrust is like a surge of adrenaline through my veins, shocking me back to life.
He didn’t have to ask what I wanted. He didn’t need to be told. He already knew. He knew this is what I needed, love in its rawest form.
He’s right, he does know me. He knows me better than I thought possible. And he knows my body like a man who’s been studying it for years. Every touch has a purpose, every kiss has meaning, and every second that passes brings me higher into an ecstasy I didn’t know could exist until this very moment.
His smell is all I smell. His touch is all I feel. His voice is all I hear. He is everything. The sky above me, the ground beneath my feet, the very air I breathe. He blankets me until there is no part left of me that he hasn’t altered in some way.
