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There are a hundred reasons and bullshit explanations for why I still want Emily.
Despite what happened in the past. Despite what’s happening now.
Despite my cold fury and her blistering pain.
I try to mentally shake myself of the desire I have to let it all go and take what I want, but I fight to remember why I’m here, fight to stay focused on the answers I came to get.
“Do you have anything you want to tell me?”
Her eyes close, more tears slipping free.
“So much,” she admits, guilt obvious in her voice.
“Like what?”
A shuddering breath, her eyes opening again.
“Just that I’m sorry.”
“For?”
Another breath.
“Everything.”
My hand slides up to her throat, but doesn’t squeeze. I’m practically shaking with the need to force the answers out of her. Emily’s fingers grip my wrist as I run the pad of thumb along the side of her neck.
“I hate you,” I whisper against her mouth.
“I know.”
“And I fucking love you.”
Her lips roll against mine, her teeth biting down. “I know.”
“I can’t stand you.”
Her body trembles.
“Same.”
We both go perfectly still.
“And I can’t stop wanting you.”
Emily’s eyes clench shut.
What kind of idiot was I to think I could be alone with her and not end up in this place?
I honestly believed I could resist. That I could keep from touching her. That I could keep from hurting her in more ways than insults and threats.
We’ll destroy each other one of these days, yet we’re both powerless to stop it.
Violence, stripped of its hammering fists, of its gnawing teeth, of its razor-sharp edges and blinding explosions, is nothing more than a destructive force.
And that’s what Emily and I are to each other.
I’m beginning to believe that there’s not a single person or influence in this world that is powerful enough to stop us.
