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Two sides of the same coin.
Magnets that can’t resist the pull between each other.
That’s what we are.
Completely destructive, but unable to stay away from one another.
It’s like he understands me. Even when I don’t say a word, heknows. He knows my storm. The only one who can tame it.
And that’s exactly what he does. His fingers grip my face tighter, holding me still as his mouth crashes on mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth. I can taste whiskey on his tongue as it tangles with mine. Whiskey and…
Home.
With a loud groan, I slide my hand at his nape, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pull him closer to me, my lips crushing against his.
Prescott is the first to pull back. He presses his forehead against mine, his warm breath touching my face as he tries to compose himself.
“You should go back to bed. It’s late.”
Even before he can finish, I’m already shaking my head. “I can’t. I can’t go back.”
Don’t make me go back.
Prescott watches me silently with those dark eyes that seem to see to my very core. I’m not sure what he sees in my expression, but finally, he nods. “Okay. What do you want then?”
What do I want?
I want to not feel.
I want to forget everything that’s going on in my life right now.
I want to breathe and not feel like my lungs are going to burst on me.
But instead of saying any of it, I say something I know he can help me with: “Make it go away.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Okay.”
With one final caress of my cheek, he lets his hand fall down. Our palms meet, fingers intertwining, and then he takes a step back and pulls me along with him.
Neither of us says anything as we exit the gym and climb the stairs to his apartment. He motions for me to be quiet as he pushes the door open, and then we sneak down the hallway to his room.
I hold my breath. My heart is thumping loudly against my ribcage.
The floorboard creaks, and we both come to a stop, listening. If only I could hear anything over the sound of my heartbeat.
There’s a soft noise coming from behind one of the doors, but before we can find out if Spencer’s awake, Prescott’s hand on mine tightens, and he pulls me into his room.
The door closes behind us, and the next thing I know, I’m pressed against hardwood, and Prescott’s mouth is on mine.
Neither of us says anything as he does exactly what I asked him—makes it all go away.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
JADE
Snuggling closer into the warmth of the blanket, I inhale deeply, the soft citrusy scent tickling my nose. I rub it against the pillow, trying to stop the itching when the pillow wraps around me.
No. Not a pillow. Arms.
