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“I’m running.”
Patrick reached for my ponytail, coiling the wet strands around his fingers. “You shouldn’t be here alone at night, Christina.”
“The sun’s just setting.” I felt hot and unsteady, my legs turning to jelly.
He let my ponytail unwind. It fell to my back. “You don’t know who’s prowling around.”
Slowly, so slowly, I reached for his face through the rain. He flinched as I touched his cheek. Normally his jaw was clean-shaven, but my fingers brushed stubble. I stepped backward, off the pavement, into the bushes.Follow me.
“You shouldn’t leave the path either.” He took a step forward.
I moved back. “I’ve done a lot of things I shouldn’t do.”
He stopped on the edge of the path, rain streaming down his face and shoulders. I took another pace back, testing the invisible cable that stretched between us.
“The real question is, can you tell me what to do if you’re not paying me anymore?”
Lightning forked the sky. Patrick stepped off the path. He leaned forward, and with a hot swipe of his tongue, licked the rain off my jaw.
That was it.
I melted into him. His hand was in my wet hair, his mouth voracious. He backed me against a tree, and this time, I didn’t let go of him. I was starving, dying for his tongue.
“I want you,” I breathed, giving up my confession. “I want you so much, Patrick.”
He growled, drinking me in through his kisses. I got lost in the metallic taste of his skin, the drumbeat of his pulse. A huge hand worked under my drenched tank top, covering my whole breast.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and the curse sounded like a prayer.
“I don’t want your money,” I whispered.
With a groan, he pushed my head back and poured his tongue into my mouth. “I don’t ever want to stop touching you, Christina,” he panted.
“Then don’t.”
“I want all of you.” He gripped my hair. “You don’t understand what that means.”
I ran my hands up his chest, heat searing my palms through the cold rain, grasping his shoulders until he growled another curse.
“Take me. My place. In my room.”
24
Over The Edge
Patrick
This was a mistake.
Her room looked just like I remembered. Lights twinkled around her window, photos covered the walls, and striped sheets were unmade on her bed. The walls appeared solid, but I doubted they’d hold what I felt.
I swept the books and papers off her bed. Tugging at her window, she let in a gust of rain. She was doing it for me, I suddenly knew, because she’d noticed I always needed it open.
She pulled her sodden tank top over her head, shivering from the storm and excitement. Goosebumps flecked her skin. Her breasts, tempting curves, pushed out her pink sports bra. But it was the look on her face that stopped me cold. Eager, nervous, her dark eyes shining with hope.
I wanted to eat that expression. Feed on her.
I should leave before this went any further.
