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I frown. “It doesn’t have to, though...right? I mean, maybe this’ll be the wake-up call she needs. I don’t like her either, but therehasto be a heart in there somewhere behind all the ice.”
“You’re twenty-one and you still believe in fairy tales?” He snorts, his eyes beaming pity.
“I’m serious, Chris. It’s not right. I don’t want to believe he fell for a total illusion—Dad must’ve seen something in her nobody else does. He wouldn’t marry a woman who’s a hundred and eighty degrees away from everything he ever wanted. I just can’t believe he’d—”
Chris cuts me off, laughing. My frown deepens.
But he puts a possessive hand on my thigh and squeezes, hard enough to make me squirm.
“Come on, princess. You believe in roses and rings and all that till death do us part sales talk? I stopped believing in Cinderella-Sleeping Beauty shit when I was five.”
I look away.
I don’t know why it’s so hurtful.
Maybe it’s one more reminder of how insanely impossible this is. As if we could ever work even if we didn’t have the parentals and diverging futures forming a gaping chasm between us.
“Hey, now. I’m not trying to be a jackass,” he says softly.
“Try harder,” I throw back.
“Delia, fuck. Consider it tough love. I wish your dad was more guarded, too. He wouldn’t have to go through this shit. And you’ll never know how much I wish my mother was a better person.” His eyes fall and he slumps back in the chair.
That subtle shift in his weight kills me.
I look up, running my hand down his face, gingerly soothing him.
“If you believe it’s all BS, I don’t think you’d have come back last night. You’d have stayed away after Vegas like we said. But you didn’t. You broke your promise for a reason...”
It’s his turn to caress my face.
He reaches up, dominant as ever, running his hand along my cheek.
“Don’t get too excited, sis. Truth is, I couldn’t have stayed away from your tight little pussy if you chained me to the wall.” Growling, he slides his hand up my thigh, shifts my panties aside, and shoves two fingers deep inside me.
I gasp, arching against him, feeling his raging hard-on rising through his jeans.
“Don’t ruin a good thing with too much wishing, Delia. You’re not my girlfriend. You can’t be, and you know that’s for your own good. But you’ll always be the best fuck of my life, baby.”
His words are like knives, but his fingers...
I’m dead.
I should slap him across the face and run back inside.
If only he didn’t stroke me so good, tethering my body to this mad pleasure I can only get from him.
He’s a bastard thief.
A relentless charmer.
But more than anything, I hate him because he’sright.
I just won’t admit it to myself. It hurts too much having this spark and knowing he’s incapable of ever feeling love, much less acting on it.
My body drowns out the ache in my heart as he works his hands deeper, stamping his hot lips down my neck.
His hips push greedily against my ass, making me feel his bulge.
