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I’m pretty sure most of it is self-hatred though.
Self-hatred for my inability to stand up against my father, to take what I really want, to live the life I’m desperate for instead of the one I’m forced to endure.
“Go on,” Reese finally taunts. “Hit me if you think it’ll fix anything.”
My free hand curls into a fist as I think about the surge of pain and relief that’ll come with it.
Fuck. I want it.
My nostrils flare as I think about the rush.
The same exact one I gave Abigail last night.
She was beautiful.
And her taste…
Fuck. My mouth waters as I remember the moment her sweetness flooded my mouth all too vividly.
I knew from the moment we collided that whatever was going to happen next was going to be a mistake. But I couldn’t stop myself.
After the night I’d already endured, I needed her as much as she needed me. If only I could have taken more…
“Didn’t have you pegged as a pussy, Eaton.” He tilts his head and stares at me with nothing but pity in his eyes. Fury erupts within me, fire shooting down my veins but it’s nothing compared to my reaction to his next statement. “Just like you’re too much of a pussy to admit you want Abi.”
Before he’s even finished talking, I’ve pulled my arm back and I’m throwing all my weight into the punch that lands on his cheekbone. He roars as pain blooms from the hit, but he doesn’t shy away, not that I expected him to, instead, he rushes me. But while I might predict the move, I’m not ready and he sends me flying backward.
I land with a thud and a grunt of pain.
“Come on, Eaton,” he says, bouncing on his feet like we’re in the ring. “Let’s fucking go. You need to work off some of that tension. And seeing as you’re not fucking it out of your system you need to fight it out.”
I roar with determination as I jump to my feet, and we collide in a fury of fists.
He gets two hits in before I take the upper hand again.The mud beneath our feet squelches as we churn it up, and in only a few minutes, we’re both covered.
“More, Eaton. I said fucking bring it,” Reese taunts. “Hit me like you want to fuck her,” he demands.
“I don’t,” I seethe.
“Fucking admit it. There’s nothing wrong with it. With you. With her. Fucking own it, mate.”
“I can’t,” I roar, diving toward him with a fresh rush of adrenaline.
Before long, we both hit the ground, rolling around in the mud like a pair of stupid boys—which of course is exactly what we are—while he continues to taunt me, and I refuse to budge.
“Fuck,” I groan, finally giving in and falling back into a puddle.
It’s cold and wet, but it’s not something we’re unfamiliar with after spending most of our lives on the rugby pitch.
“Gonna admit you want her yet?” he asks breathlessly.
“Reese,” I groan.
“It’s okay to want her. She’s hot.”
My teeth grind.
“And you make a good couple despite your differences,” he continues.
