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My eyebrows knit, “Fear of what?”
“Getting hurt again. Being rejected again. Giving my all and it would still be wasted. You accused me of ignoring you. I didn’t ignore anything. I fought against every urge my body manifested around you.”
“Then why hide, why did you run away from me the first chance you got? Why didn’t you talk to me? I thought I always showed you that you can speak your mind.”
“I had to give us space,” His eyes have never been more emotional than this but his voice remains sharp and soft, “Do you think you know everything about me?”
“I never claimed to know everything about you.”
“You are so free and open about your life, I envy that.” He cracks his knuckles behind my back, “I achieved so much but inside I want to scream so loud for all those moments that made me cold and calculated about love.”
“You can tell me.” I press my hands to his chest. “Scream with me.”
“I can’t.” His facial features articulate emotions like a cannon. “Have you ever watched a barrel of a gun aimed at your head while death played a cruel game of balance scale?”
“No, I haven’t.” The wrench already twists my stomach, “But I know something about a cruel game.”
He scratches his neck, eyes roving all over my face. “I survived things a kid shouldn’t have had to deal with. Only to watch someone else pull the trigger after you gave them a shot, willingly. One bullet and it was enough to shatter me. Metaphorically speaking.”
I knew he had a rough childhood based on tabloids and articles, and the famous broadcasted breakup he had years ago from a woman who took advantage of him. But it was his story and it wasn’t my place to pry in someone else’s life sans their knowledge, consent, and veracity.
His features soften. “I denied you and ignored what we shared and it was wrong of me because I didn’t want to make a mistake with you.” Our eyes bore into one another, “I didn’t know if I should peruse you. And I thought you’re too young to want me.” He cups my cheeks. “With each day that goes by all I want is to be around you.”
“Dean, I’m not a toy you pull out to play with when it fits and then shove into some deep drawer and ignore its existence when you feel like it.” I take a deep breath. “I have feelings too.” I’ve waited so long to spill those words.
His eyes stray from mine for a split second to check my bunny tattoo—the fondness he has for it makes me shiver.
Swallowing hard, his eyes flick to mine and he laughs.
“Are you laughing at me?”
He stops, but his smile is still tucked in place, “Never.”
I scowl, “That is so much bullshi—”
His mouth merges with mine, and his hand presses my neck gently to deepen the kiss while his other hand hangs around my jaw, slipping slowly to grip my throat.
My treacherous pussy is wet.
All my unfinished words dissolve on his tongue as he glides it along mine, round upon round.
Slightly pulling back, he moves his delicious lips, “I have never felt more like myself than I have when I was with you.”
Dean
Thehalf-liddedeyeslookingat me irradiate lustfulness, fueling my desire to devour the little bunny sitting before me.
Every spark of her essence lights up when I touch her.
Her cheeks turn pink as I wrap my hand around her throat and shove my hips into her belly. She lets out a soft gasp. Her nails dig into my back. My forehead is sealed against hers, letting her know in all ways possible what she does to me and how much I want her.
“Dean, please.”
The coconut scent on her skin clashes with my nostrils, and my teeth graze my lip. “Please what, bunny?”
“Mmm.”
My thumb stretches her bottom lip, “I need to hear you say it.” My tone is demanding yet soft.
