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The sense of betrayal in her voice adds to the growing tension in my body.
“I thought it was better this way.”
“Well, it’s not,” she snaps. “It’s not just about what you want. There are still people back home who care about you, you know. People who have been worrying about you for months, praying you’d come home safely. And you just fucking ghost them—”
She pulls her hands away, shaking her head as she wipes her face.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m yelling at you. Because why would you tell me? I guess this is what I deserve, right?”
“I wasn’t doing it to punish you,” I murmur. “You have your own life, Bianca. You should be worried about that.”
She comes back to me, and this time, I don’t flinch when she touches me. She presses her body close to mine, so close I can feel her warmth as her fingers slowly scrape through my hair and over my neck.
“I have no life without you,” she whispers.
I close my eyes, silence my only defense. But Bianca isn’t having it. She tells me again, this time with more emphasis. And when I still don’t respond, she tells me a third time, her fingers trailing down to my free hand. She takes the dead weight in hers and squeezes.
“Madden, look at me.”
I open my eyes to meet hers.
“Everything I said before—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her.
“It matters,” she rasps. “I love you. I’m always going to love you.”
“I’m sorry.” I stare through her.
“Why?” she pleads.
I look over her head, so I can’t witness the pain in her eyes.
“I don’t feel anything.”
There’s a long moment of nothingness while she digests that brutal truth, and a part of me hopes she’ll just leave. But Bianca is cut from the same cloth, and she doesn’t know what’s best for her any more than I do.
“You will.” She caresses my hand with hers. “You’ll feel again. And in the meantime, I’m here for you.”
My jaw flexes as I turn my stone-cold gaze back to her. “Don’t do anything for me. I don’t want your help, and I don’t want your sympathy.”
“I’m not here out of sympathy,” she says. “I’m here because when I’m not with you, it feels like I’m dying inside.”
When I say nothing, she leans up on her toes and presses her lips to mine. I drop my cane and grab her by the arms, dead set on turning her out the door exactly the way she came. But something inside me betrays that plan, pulling her closer instead. I’d be lying to myself if I thought I ever had any other option. There never is with Bianca. I have to touch her. And for a minute, I tell myself it’s okay because this doesn’t even feel fucking real. Everything is blurry, and I’m not entirely sure I haven’t imagined her. She shouldn’t be here in my room, alone with me, letting me manhandle her while she kisses me. None of this makes any goddamn sense, but if I’m honest, I don’t really fucking care either. I don’t care about anything.
I need to feel something, and I want it to be her. I’m tired of living by the minute, counting every second, wishing them away. Gulping in breaths of air just to exist. But now, I’m breathing her, and she tastes so fucking good, it’s dulling the numbness and replacing it with something else. There’s a spark of fire in my chest. A heat in my blood that reminds me I’m human. She’s giving me a piece of herself, but I want more. I want everything.
“I’ve missed you,” she pants against me. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too, peaches,” I croak.
My fists curl into the back of her shirt as her lips move over my jaw and down my neck. She tastes me, and I feel her everywhere. Pressing against me, small and fragile. Warm hands glide over my arms and then my stomach, slipping beneath the hem of my shirt. Her skin against mine sends a current of dark hunger through my veins, but it’s her next words that light the fuse.
“Make me come,” she whispers in my ear. “The way only you can.”
I grab her by the neck and force her head back, groaning into her mouth as my lips collide with hers. She tastes so fucking sweet, I can’t see straight. I can’t think. I just know I want inside her. I want to fuck her into oblivion and forget the pain. I want to make her mine again.
Somewhere in the chaos of those thoughts, we start tossing clothes aside, pawing at each other with an insanity I can’t quite explain. But when I push her back onto the bed and try to spread her out, she sits up and presses her palm to my chest.
