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“But I don’t know Theo,” she pleads. Her gaze tracks along my face. “I don’t know you. You’re asking me to trust this stranger.”
“You didn’t know the boy, either. We met once, and that once only lasted an hour. Technically you’ve known Theo longer than you ever knew Gunner.”
“I trusted Gunner,” she says quietly. “I trusted him with my life. I trusted him to keep me safe, which is why I went outside with him. I trusted him to protect me if my father came looking. I…” She pauses, and when I slide my fingers past the band of her underwear, she pushes me back with a rough shove. “Why didn’t you take me with you? I could have gone with you! I spent the next eight years of my life in a kind of prison. I was free in the traditional sense, but I was mourning you, and my freedom felt an awful lot like segregation. I wanted to go with you!”
“You thought I was dead?”
She angrily swipes a tear from her cheek, hissing when she hurts herself. “Yes. I thought you were dead.”
“And yet you wanted to be with me?”
“I wanted to be dead too,” she grits out. “I hated the world. I hatedmyworld. I hated the blood that ran in my veins, I hated the blood that ran throughyours. I hated my dad, I hated my school. I especially hated the sour-sisters and their belief that they were better than me. The only thing I had that I loved was the memory of a boy, and if the world was gonna suck as much as it did, I would rather be dead with you.”
“You loved me.”
“You were the only good thing I had!” she shouts. “How can I have only known you for one hour, but you were the best thing I had? How is that possible?”
“Because you loved me. Because the universe wants us to be a team.”
“A team doesn’t break promises,” she hisses. “A team has each other’s backs; they make everything better. They don’t run away.”
“What promise did I break?”
She pushes forward with the intention to slam her fist against my face, but I catch her arm and swing her around so her back presses to my chest. “What promise, Libby? Why are you mad at me?”
“Because I’m hurt! I thought you were dead, and now you’re not, it means you broke your promise!”
“What fucking promise?”
“You promised you would come back for me!” She struggles in my arms and tries to fight me away. Her chest lifts and falls with silent sobs. “You promised! You said you would find me. You’ve been alive this whole time, you knew where I was, but you left me to rot while you were living it up in the city. No room for me, huh?” She throws an elbow back and catches me in the ribs until I release her. She spins around fast and slams her back to the wall. “You were just another person in my life that never wanted me.”
“Never wanted you?” I stride forward until the breath explodes from her lungs and my leg rests between her warmth. “I want you, Elizabeth. How are you getting mixed signals about this?”
“Because wanting sex and wantingmeare two different things! I can find sex anywhere. I can get that fix anyplace. But I can’t find that connection I had with a boy. I can’t find whatever it is that makes my heart race whenever you’re around, and every guy that looks at me for more than two seconds is an instant strike out, because instead of thinking of him, I think of you. Not one of those men ever stood a chance, and it’s all your fault.”
“I’m right here,” I growl. “I’m right fucking here.” I slam my lips over hers and swallow her gasp. Her lip splits, but the taste of her blood on my tongue does nothing to deter me.
On the contrary, it makes me hungrier for everything she has to offer.
I pick her up the way I’ve wanted to since I saw her in her bed. I bruise her thighs with my hands, I hurt her face with mine, but I still slam her against the wall and crush my cock between us. “I’ve wanted you, Libby. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you.” I let my lips trail over her jaw, down her neck, and bury my face in her hair. Her jeans are still undone, so I slide my hand inside and take her mouth when I push inside and she cries out.
My gaze shoots to the door that leads into the club hall. The music is still loud downstairs, the bass heavy enough to feel it in my chest, but we still risk the door swinging open. I pull Libby away from the wall and walk toward the door, only to slam her back again and swallow her cry. I’m being rough, and she’s fighting a head injury, but I can’t stop.
“I’ve never not wanted you.” I set her back on her feet and accept the pain in her eyes when she thinks I’m rejecting her. But then I drop to my knees when she’s stable, tug her jeans down, and hiss when she fists my hair. “I’ve wanted you. I’ve wanted to taste you more than I wanted to eat. And I know hunger.”
“Don’t tell me that. Don’t tell me you were alone and hungry!” Her cry is that of grief, but it turns animalistic when I bury my face in her pussy. “Oh my God! Fuck.”
“I’m never hungry anymore, Lib. But money can’t buy everything.” I tug her jeans off and force her legs wider, and when that’s not enough, I pick one leg up and place it over my shoulder. When she’s stable and our eyes meet, I cup her ass and bring her second leg up so she’s straddling my shoulders and presenting me with the perfect feast. I ignore the pain in my knees, choosing instead to focus on the flavor on my tongue and the way she pulses for me. “You want me too.” I pull back to catch my breath. “Elizabeth. You want me too.”
“Yes.” Her chest races to fill her lungs. “I want you too.”
“You’ve wanted me since the moment you saw me in the gym.”
She shakes her head. “I’ve wanted you since I was a teen, old enough to know my body wanted a man. So then I grieved you all over again, because I wanted that boy. I wanted him to have lived, to have grown along with me, and for him to take all of my firsts the way he was supposed to.”
I groan with pleasure and pain. “Not your firsts, but your lasts.” I bury my tongue deep inside her pussy and let my hips jut forward with need. Soon. I’ll take her soon. I eat her up while she vibrates in my arms, and when she’s wrung so tight she might snap, I pull away and let her fall to my lap. She cries out when she crashes down, and a small part of my brain worries about her injuries. No doubt she has a hideous headache, and all of the jostling hurts, but I can’t stop this any more than I can stop a train. My shirt remains in place, the buttons fastened but for the top one. My pants are still on, but I push Libby back until she kneels on the floor between me and the wall. I sit taller and unsnap my belt and button, then our eyes meet and I await her permission.
Sheis the only thing that could stop this. She’s the only thing that can bring reason to my fevered brain when all I can focus on is having her.
