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“Lies.”
He leans forward, until the tip of his nose grazes my cheek. Tilting his head, he lets his soft lips drag across my skin with feather light pressure, and the nearly imperceptible touch sends a pulsating throb to the space between my thighs.
“What happened to your face? Your side? I saw the fucking bruises,” the low growl spills from his lips and my body shakes.
When? When did he see the bruises? I wasn’t imagining him…
“You were there last night?” I whisper in shock.
“Answer the goddamn question Spencer.”
“I told them, I-I fell. It was dark, I was c-carrying a basket of laundry down the steps, and I -“
“Stop lying to me. This is the last time I’m going to say it.”
My body feels like it’s overheating, and I’m suffocating beneath him. I can’t breathe. His intoxicating presence is smothering me, and the worst part?
I like it.
I can’t fucking like it.
“Did he do that to you?”
“No,” I answer firmly.
Lifting one hand to the back of my head, he pulls me in, smashing his lips to mine, and suddenly I’m not in this bar anymore. There is no Liam. I’m a teenager again, and my mom isn’t dead, Uncle Evan never moved in, and my world never collapsed around me. I’m in the arms of my soul mate, lips tangled with those of the first and last boy I’ll ever kiss.
His lips move slow, but they’re pressed tightly to mine as his tongue sweeps the inside of my mouth, devouring any protests that could potentially fall from my lips. My heart is racing and I’m feeling all of these things I never wanted to feel again. Things I wanted to ignore. Things that I had stuffed deep down into the bottom of my heart and locked away, never to be let out again.
I don’t just feel bittersweet nostalgia though, I feel anger and it’s ticking like a time bomb within my chest. The clock counts down and Travis is too late to clip the fucking wire.
My insides explode, and the shrapnel hurts so fucking bad. More pain than anything Liam’s hands have ever caused me. More pain than anything Uncle Evan ever put me through. It’s a different kind of pain, and I’d rather be humiliated and bruised than ever fucking feel this stifling sense of drowning and emptiness inside. My fingers slide across the letter opener on the desk and I pick it up with my right hand, only to thrust the sharp end into the back of Travis’s hand.
“What the fuck?!” he shouts, recoiling from me, taking a giant step backward.
My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, and the letter opener hits the floor with a loud clang.
“What the fuck Spencer?!” his eyes gloss over, darkening as he steps toward me again. My body reacts more quickly this time though and I cock back my fist slamming it forward into his jaw.
“Fuck you!” I scream.
“Is this what you need?” he growls, stepping closer, leaning his face in toward mine. “You need to hate me? You want to make me pay for leaving? Fucking give me your best shot baby. Make it hurt.”
Without pausing to give anything a second thought, I slap him across the face. Then I do it again. I slide off the desk and I charge at him, hammering my fists against his chest, blow after blow.
“Fuck you! I hate you! I hate you so goddamn much!”
He takes slow steps backward, but never lifts a hand to block me. Never attempts to defend himself. I’m being crazy. I’m irrational. I’ve lost my goddamn mind, but there’s no stopping me now.
“Fuck you for leaving! Fuck you for coming back! I hate you Travis Price! I hate you!” the words fall from my lips and I wish I had a better insult to hurl his way. Something that would sting more, but I just repeat myself until tears prick the inner corners of my eyes.
And there it is.
I’ve got him backed against the door and as much as I despise him, my body is like a feral bitch in heat, that can’t be held accountable for the very bad decision it’s about to make. My eyes meet his and all caution gets thrown to the wind when I see how the dim lights of the office reflect off of his irises. Gripping his shoulders, I jump on him, wrapping my legs around his waist. His hands slide beneath my ass, holding me in place and I run my hands up his neck, threading my fingers through his hair. Twisting the strands between my fingers, I grip tight and pull hard, “I fucking hate you,” I whisper as I lick him from his collarbone to his earlobe.
Groaning, he digs his fingertips into my ass so hard it hurts.
“Show me how much you hate me, little runaway.”
