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“It was for the best.”
“And what’s this now?”
“Nothing. We’re just dancing.”
Her head rears back, silence descending as she stares at me. I can feel that gaze piercing me, irrespective of not looking at her. I smirk and keep us turning, wondering what sneaky little words she’s about to come up with to tempt me.
“This isn’t dancing. This is you attempting to claim me.”
My hand grips tighter, pulling her closer so I can feel some pressure on my aching dick and murmur. “I don’t need to do that. You don’t belong to anyone else while I’m here, anyway.”
“You’re such an arrogant bastard.”
I chuckle, smile broadening as I finally look at her and trace those sinister lines again. “Are you suggesting you’re someone else’s? I can let go if you’d prefer one of the others.” The long stretch of black lips sneers back at me, hollowed cheeks hollowing all the more because of the face paint. “I like this look on you, by the way. Suits your cadence.”
“I want my truths,” she snaps, trying to tug her hand out of mine.
“What truths?”
“Why did you go?”
I look away and twirl us towards a dark corner, pulling to an abrupt halt the moment there’s darkness for my thoughts. Truths. There is only one truth in this minute. It’s instinctual. Primitive. My body pushes hers against a table, hands lifting her until she’s sitting on it and I’m sliding in between her legs. She gasps at my ferocity, her fingers clutching into my arms to try getting away from me, but my mouth’s on hers before she manages anything.
Warmth floods me immediately. Warmth, heat, and an ache so profound I’d fuck her here and now if it was appropriate to do so. I yank her closer, desperate to feel that feeling I’ve been missing and feed it with the lust it requires. Ferocious. Hungry.
Angry at everything and anything.
I tug and pull, my mouth devouring something it’s been denied of and my dick rubbing at the scrapes of thin material separating us. We’re both groaning and desperate, both full of hands and lips, teeth and need. I can feel her hands in my hair, her tongue licking across my lips, frantic and need filled. Such a fucking ache. Such an inbuilt desire that builds every goddamn time I’m near her. It’s insanity, or a reality I can’t afford or comprehend.
Heaving in a breath and pulling her lip into my teeth for the last time, I push her away before it gets too much for me to contend with and glare at her continuing ability to do this to me. She pants and quivers, brazen fingers reaching for that enticing smile curving her mouth, as she widens her legs and creeps up her dress. Inch by inch, delicate skin on show in dark recesses for me to enjoy. Bruises still visible. Heels dangling on pale white flesh.
More.
Yes, I know all about more with her. I know hours of it and the aches that come after it’s finished and I have to leave again.
Stupid, Gray.
Illogical. Irrational. And damn near intolerable.
I turn and walk away before my need consumes me irrationally, choosing any of these goddamn bars rather than her so I can find sense again. I came here to see her and get a taste again. Feed the hunger so I could dismiss it once more. I got it.
And now I’m done.
Chapter 6
Hannah
Icould have stayed at the party and hunted him down. Perhaps I should have after that aggressive fumble in the dark corner. Too many people, though. Too many voices attempting to drown out the only one I want to hear. Not that they did. He only needed to whisper his claim and it was all there again. The feelings, the attachment, the hours and minutes and seconds that drifted by without care when I was him last. He was blinding like that.
Superior.
Overpowering on my senses.
Hmm.
This place seems smaller than the last time I was in it.
I tap the card on my hand and wander around, listening to the click of my heels over the marblebeneath my feet. They echo in the dimly lit apartment, creating a trail around the rooms I’m passing through. Sculpture. Art. All dark and moody, broody. Like him. I stop at a piece, looking over the lines of a man’s face on the floor, harrowed in thought. It’s been knocked off its pedestal, part smashed. Brow furrowed, mouth open as if shouting in anger, or frustration. Provoking in some ways.
