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“You just got here.”
I stand motionless, my legs not carrying me either way.
“What if I asked you to stay?”
I step inside, close the door and press her back against the wall, wrapping the ends of her hair around my fingers.
“What happened today, Clark? Talk to me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut until they stop stinging.
“I can’t. And I can’t be here. I’m too angry.”
“Let me help you, Clark. Let me be what you need.”
I drop my forehead to hers. “I’m afraid to let you see me.”
Her touch against my cheek is soft, tender and so goddamned welcome. I’m going to miss it. God, I want to smack something. I want to beat the shit out of my father. Tear his face off. Beat him until he can’t walk or talk.
Dayna presses her lips to mine. It’s gentle, like the kind of man she wants me to be. A man I’m not.
I pull away, take one look into those wide brown eyes then crash my mouth against hers, yanking her hair and lifting her hips around my waist.
I carry her, walking her backwards into the lounge which is set up for a night in — wine, book, candles. It smells like her, sweet vanilla. The scent doesn’t soothe me, it breaks me.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I tell her, grating the words through my teeth as I sit her down on the sofa.
She lifts my face to hers. “Do what you need to do.”
I push her back and peel the silk from her chest, taking a nipple and biting down, too hard. She only squirms.
I pull the belt of her robe and open it, letting my hands roam across her breasts, her stomach, digging my fingertips into her thighs. Unable to control everything I’m feeling. Not able to think straight but knowing how much I need her.
I part her knees and crawl between them. She sits up, unbuttoning my shirt and doing exactly what I need her to do, biting down on my pec, hurting me, giving me what I deserve. Killing the other pain I feel right below the spot she’s digging her teeth into.
I lift her hips towards me and suck her clit, moving my tongue down, tasting her excitement, readying her. I don’t waste time, freeing myself from my jeans but not taking them off. I have to be inside her.
She parts her legs wider, and I thrust deep inside her with one drive, bottoming out, making her yell my name and dig her nails into my arse.
I draw back. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I tell her again, my voice rough, betraying my desperation.
“You won’t,” she says, pulling me into her.
God, I love her.
I pound into her relentlessly until her hips are gyrating uncontrollably, her head thrown back against the sofa. Fucking gorgeous.
She screams my name, her hands flying to her hair. Her insides squeeze my dick.
I flip her, bringing her knees to the floor. She braces her hands on the sofa, and I grab her hair in my fist, lifting her head back. I crash back inside her, over and fucking over, until I find my release. The noise I cry out is some dark mix of hatred, love and disgust.
I lean on her back and wrap my arms around her waist, holding her to me. I tell her I’m sorry. I keep saying it, kissing her shoulders, hoping she’ll realise how much I mean it.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m fine, Clark.”
I run us a bath and carry her into the tub as if she’s the most delicate thing I’ve ever held. She is. She sits between my legs and rests back against me as I squeeze a flannel across her chest, kissing her temple. With each press of my lips, I try to tell her I have to give her up.
“I love you,” she whispers. The first person who has ever told me they love me.
I fold my arms tighter around her and let silent tears fall down my cheeks as my heart rips in two.
We lie there until the water becomes tepid, because I don’t know how to let her go. Eventually, I dry her down and carry her to bed. I lie back beside her and she nuzzles into my neck, her cheek on my chest, her leg bent over mine.
I’d tell her goodnight, tell her goodbye, but I can’t.
When her breathing evens out, I slip out of the bed. I kiss her one last time and leave.
