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“Fuck,” she moans, circling her hips and arching her back while using my shoulder to hold herself up.
I slip my other hand into her dress, over her breast, and roll her nipple between my fingers. Dropping my lips to her collarbone, I kiss my way along it and up her neck to her mouth.
“Holy fuck, I’m going to come,” she says, gripping my shoulders with both hands, her hips moving faster.
I kiss her, desperate to taste her again. She kisses me back, just as desperately.
We’re reckless, frantic, wild.
This kiss, my fingers inside her; it’s years of bad timing and missed connections taking control.
“Oh my God…fuck…Bradford…” Her fingers dig into my arms as she comes.
I drag my mouth from hers so I can see her experience an orgasm. She drops her head back as the pleasure moves through her and I commit every second of it to memory.
The curve of her throat.
The parting of her lips.
The pure ecstasy on her face.
Kristen is even more beautiful when she allows pleasure to control her. She’s so fucking free.
When she finally looks at me again, she says, “Fuck you for being right.”
I know what she’s referring to without her elaborating.
Johnathon.
The ache I feel coming from her kills me. Fucking breaks my heart.
I want to pull her into my arms and tell her I’ll fix this for her. That I’ll make her happy. But I know that’s a shortcut not worth a damn. We can’t take away someone else’s pain, can’t fix the things that come from soul-deep baggage, can’t make someone else happy. Those are the things in life that require a journey to hell and back to work through and can only be done by the person suffering.
“You’re still angry with me,” I say.
“I’m angry with everyone.”
“I’m not the one you should be angry with.”
She puts her hands to my chest, like she’s trying to push me away even though the look in her eyes says the complete opposite. “I know. I know it’s irrational. I know it’s unfair to you. I know it’s fucked up. And yet, I can’t, for the life of me, get rid of that anger. I’m angry with the whole fucking world. Including myself.”
Now,I’mangry. I’m fucking angry that after all these years, after us working our way here to this moment, thatthisis where we are. That I’m taking the anger and hate that Johnathon earned. “So, what, everyone but me will get the Kristen that’s moving on, finding herself, while I get the Kristen that wants to stay stuck in her anger?”
“I told you there is no us. You don’t have to get any Kristen. Leave me with my anger and go live your life. God knows I don’t want to inflict my hurt on you.”
“Fuck, Kristen. When are you going to get it? I want you. I don’t like that your anger is directed at me, but I don’t want to leave you with it.”
She tries to move off me but I quickly take hold of her hips and keep her where she is.
Still fighting against me, she demands, “When areyougoing to get it? I don’t want to be with you.”
“That’s bullshit if ever I heard it.”
Her eyes widen, but then, she’s not used to me being so blunt. I’ve always been more careful with Kristen than with any woman. Even when she thought I wasn’t being careful with my words, it was still more than I’ve given anyone. “It’s not bullshit,” she says. “Have I answered any of your calls this year? Have I sought you out? Did I come running to you after I broke up with Johnathon?”
“We both know the real reason why you haven’t done any of those things. How about we address that? And how about you tell me when you’re going to fucking do something about it?”
Her eyes widen even more. “I just got out of one bad relationship. I’m not about to start a new bad one.”
