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SKYE
Idon’t know what to do as his mouth presses against mine in a punishing kiss. It’s so forceful, so demanding, as his tongue pushes inside that I grant him access without a fight—mostly because I’m so stunned, I fail to react.
What is happening?
Why is he kissing me?
We’re not together, and I didn’t think he wanted to be, but the passion as his fingers tangle in my hair suggests otherwise.
I’ve never been kissed like this in my life—not that I’ve been kissed a whole lot of times to compare it to—but it feels like he wants to devour me.
I moan against his lips as his grip on my hair intensifies, creating a bite of pain that tingles along my scalp in a delicious way. I didn’t know I liked this, but the way Rage does it has my pussy throbbing with need.
And I do need him. My insides beg to be filled, and I try to rub against him, creating any amount of friction I can to soothe the building ache between my legs.
He gives me partly what I need as his body molds against mine, pressing me harder into the wall. The whimper I let out doesn’t sound human, but it’s primal desire to be taken by this man.
“Rage…” I manage to gasp out his name before he deepens the slant of his mouth against mine.
I’m not ashamed to admit my legs go wobbly and I have to grip his biceps to keep from losing my feet. My body feels electrified, and my skin is flaming hot as he scorches my mouth with his.
I’m dismayed when he eventually pulls back, his chest heaving as he sucks in air. Mine is too, and I feel a little light-headed from the momentary oxygen deprivation.
His eyes lock to mine, those dark orbs a swirling storm that I know is dangerous but I can’t look away. I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame. I know I’ll get burned, but I can’t stop myself from wanting him.
“Did something happen?” I don’t know why I ask this, but it’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth.
Rage’s eyes close for a brief second before he rests his forehead to mine. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
He steps back, and I feel the space between us like a chasm. My chest hurts, aching as if I’ve been struck. The sting of rejection surprises me. It’s a physical ache that I shouldn’t be feeling for a man I’ve fucked only once. Despite this, my words are harsh and bitter when I spit them out. “Then why did you?”
The conflict within him is evident, but I don’t feel bad for him. He didn’t have to walk into this room and kiss me like I’m his reason for breathing. He chose to do that and create this looming tension between us.
“I just… I needed you,” he admits, and I don’t know what to make of that.
“You don’t need me,” I snap back, hurt by his actions and lashing out because of that. “You just want to own me, like everyone else in my life.” I push off the wall, stepping around him and the bed, putting it between us as a barrier. It won’t stop him if he chooses to come for me, but it makes me feel better. “I’m not a fucking toy, Rage. I’m a human being with feelings. You don’t get to play with me whenever you want to.”
The tightness of his jaw tells me he’s pissed with what I’m saying, but he doesn’t defend himself either. “I’m sorry.”
The apology pisses me off. “Why would you come in here and kiss me if you didn’t want more?”
“I was…” He breaks off, stopping whatever he was about to admit to me from spilling off his tongue. It frustrates me that he isn’t being honest. We don’t know each other well enough for these games to be played.
“Just stay the hell away from me.” I don’t allow him to give me an excuse for his actions. It doesn’t matter what his reason was anyway. The fact is he doesn’t want to repeat it and that’s all I need to know.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, my back to him, and try to hold back the tears that desperately want to fall. I should have known better. No one has ever wanted me. Not my dad, not Tommy, not Scarlett. Not even Jack, despite him taking something valuable from me.
Why did I expect Rage to be any different?
He’s not my boyfriend. He’s the man I get to co-parent with, if I live long enough to have my baby.
“I’m just confused, okay? This situation is a fucking mess, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to jump into something until—”
“Until you know if I’m the enemy?”
His fingers rake his hair back, and I get drawn to his eyes once more. This time, I don’t see the darkness in them but pain. I don’t know if I’m causing it or if it’s something else, but I want desperately to fix it.
“I don’t think you’re the enemy, Skye.”
