Текст книги "Bastard: A stepbrother Romance"

Автор книги: Coco Cadence

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter 19

Chris

I drop her off at the building she lives in where she probably has a tiny excuse for an apartment. I would gladly take her back to my place and let her sleep in my big comfy bed, but she wouldn’t take me up on that offer if her life depended on it. She keeps looking at me with eyes that say ‘stay away,’ as if she’s afraid she can’t say no. I’m a dirty motherfucker for thinking this, but I don’t want her to say no. Too bad this little voice in the back of my head keeps telling me not to overstep her limits. I don’t want to mess this up again.

The awkward silence makes me break out in sweat. She tries to return my jacket, but I hold up my hand. “Keep it.”

“Thanks,” she says, after a while. “For bringing me home, of course.” She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear so delicately with fingers so soft I can already imagine feeling them running down my back, marking my skin with sharp nails as I fuck her hard and deep.

Okay, that’s it. Time to go.

I pull the handle and say good-bye. We exchange awkward glances and smiles, and then she turns and enters the building, which is my cue to go.

I make my way home, not giving a shit that I could get in trouble for driving without protective clothing. If I get a ticket, it’ll be worth every fucking penny. Even now, I’m still gloating, thinking about her moans, how she writhed underneath me and begged for her release. God, she’s so fucking perfect for me. A rebel with a mind so sharp, she picks me up every time I fail, and she’s always aware of the things I do. She cares more than she lets on, but it’s enough that I know. I won’t let her remove herself from the equation again; I owe it to her to make it right.

When I arrive at my bungalow, I park the motorcycle in my garage and head straight for the shower. Fuck, I’m so hot; I need a release.

Throwing off my clothes, not caring where they land, I pass my bedroom where I notice a picture of Em on my nightstand. I’m drawn toward it, picking it up as my pants drop to the floor. Naked and rigid I stand in my bedroom, gazing at her pretty smile. A picture when she and I were still together; back when she could still smile without regrets. I miss that Emily. The Emily who didn’t feel she needed to punish herself for wanting me.

She says we’re wrong together, but I’ll prove to her that we’re the right match.

She may hate me, but underneath all that anger is a girl desperate to forgive and move on.

My thumb brushes her lips, and I lick my lips at the sight of those pretty eyes. Fuck, they shine bright like diamonds, luring me in.

Before I know it, my other hand has already gripped my cock, the flesh tense and bursting with need. Every vein in my shaft pulses, and I slowly start jerking myself to the thought of having her again. Kissing her was just the beginning, and I think back to that time, that one time I felt her velvety pussy milking my cock. Fuck, I want it so much. I can’t help myself. Sweat rolls down my back as I rub my dick until it bounces in my hands, desperate for release. Fuck, if she’d only see me now. I’m dirty, pathetic … scum for even imagining myself coming all over her face.

She’s picture perfect, and I ruined her and her life.

I don’t deserve her.

Growling, I let go of my cock, which tips to the side, pre-cum dripping on the carpet, cum almost bursting from my crown. In a flash of anger, I throw the frame on the bed, grinding my teeth. I can’t do it. I can’t fucking do it. Not like this. I’m not the pathetic son of a bitch I tell myself I am. I will prove myself wrong. I can be a better man for her, a man who can wait for her, who’ll drive her mad with lust without losing himself in the process. I’ll fucking fight the desire until I have her underneath me, begging me to come inside her.

I won’t have it any other way.

With a hard dick, I walk to the shower and turn it to ice cold before I step under. The water hurts my shoulders and my hard-on, but I need it to cool off. I fight the demons of my past, and the angel in my life who prefers me gone. Wishing I could change it all is useless. I just have to stop thinking about it for now. What I need is sleep, and lots of it. Tomorrow’s a big race, and I haven’t even checked my bike yet. I really need to step up my game if I want to keep both my career and the girl of my dreams.

When I’m clean and no longer rock-hard, I saunter to the bedroom and pick up the picture lying on my bed. I set it back on the nightstand facing toward my pillow, so she’ll always remind me to stay true to myself … and hopefully to keep the nightmares away.

***

In my dreams, I’m revisiting the past. Memories of Emily and me sitting at the dining room table with my mom and her dad flash by. Awkwardness, and lots of it, fills the room. No one dares to talk. We exchange fake smiles, but when dessert is served, I have had enough. I burst out in anger. I try to stop myself, but it’s impossible. I don’t know where all this rage comes from, but it’s like an unending eruption, the volcano inside me shooting fire at everyone in my path. I’m angry with my mother for picking another man over my father and then sitting here and pretending it’s all right.

Do my brothers even know this is going on? Has she even told them? I don’t talk to them about our parents; I hate my parents for breaking our family apart. But this … this is just icing on the cake.

Plates and glasses are thrown across the floor; harsh words are exchanged. What’s been said can’t be taken back, and I revisit this day over and over again in my dreams. It never ends well.

Emily tries to reason with me. I can even hear her voice in my head.

“I hate them!”

“I understand, but you have to calm down, Chris. This isn’t helping,” she says, placing her hand on my chest.

“You know what else isn’t helping? You sitting there, ignoring what’s happening right in front of you.” We walk out into the hallway, out of our parents’ listening range.

“I’m not ignoring anything,” she says. “They’re just together, and we may not like it, but we can’t change a thing about it.”

“Yes, we can.” I grab her hand tight. “Don’t you want back what we had?”

“Chris …” She sighs. “You know that’s not possible. They’re engaged.”

“And you don’t think that’s weird? At all? So fast already?”

“Of course, it’s quick, but look at them … they’re happy.” She smiles. “My dad is finally happy again. After all this time.”

I know what she’s getting at. Her father’s been depressed ever since her mom died from ALS. I get it … I just don’t think it’s fair that he had to pick my mom to fall in love with. Out of all the people on this planet, they had to fall for each other.

Maybe I’m just angry because it means I’ll never be able to see Emily as anything more than just my future stepsister.

“He deserves this,” she adds. “Happiness.”

“We do, too.” I lean in against her forehead. We stand there for a while, just gazing at each other in the hallway of her dad’s house, and I’m starting to wonder why in the hell we don’t just go for it. Ignore how wrong it is, defy the rules, and just be with each other.

Just like my mom did.

I growl. “I can’t believe this.”

“Chris, it’s not worth getting angry over. What’s done is done. We had our time.”

“Don’t say that.” I grab her face with both hands. “I need you.”

I press a desperate kiss on her lips, hoping, praying it’s enough to keep her with me. However, deep down we both know this situation is spinning out of control.

“No.” She pushes me away softly. “If they find out …”

“So?” I try to kiss her again, but she won’t let me.

“Chris, we have to stop.” She sucks on her lip. “He’s my father. And she’s your mother. They love each other.”

The way she says love makes me sick to my stomach. “Why did they have to do this? Fuck!” I make a fist with my hand, wanting to smack it into her father’s face just because he’s fucking my mom. She’s my mom, my fucking mom.

“She shouldn’t even be here … she should be with my dad. Not with him.”

“Your mother made the choice to leave your father.”

“What?” I frown. “It’s not just her fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault.”

“It’s both their faults.” I point at the living room where they’re sitting, probably eavesdropping on part of our conversation, too. “Their relationship ruins everything. My family. My life. Everything.”

She looks up at me. “What do you mean ‘everything’?”

I sigh, gazing down at her hands, and then her body, her face, her lips, her eyes. I take everything in because I know this will probably be the last she’ll ever think of me as more than a stepbrother. Our love is dying while theirs is blossoming. It isn’t fair.

“Fuck this …” I growl, kicking the door. “I’m out of here.”

“Chris!” Emily calls after me, but I’ve already stormed out.

I can’t deal with it. I can’t be here, pretending everything is okay, while I’m slowly dying on the inside. I want my girl … Em … And I want my family back together.

It’s all because of that guy … her father … he’s the reason my mother bailed on my father in the first place. He’s the reason behind all my problems, and for some reason, I feel like I’m the only one who can do something about it.

I gotta fix this madness … before it ruins us.

But how far am I willing to go?

***

I force myself to awaken, sweat dripping from my body and soaking the sheets. Today I’m lucky because I managed to stop the dream right before the bad part … the part where my memories turn into a nightmare full of lies. A nightmare filled with violence.

The voice in my head was so loud back then, screaming bloody fucking murder.

But I refuse to go back to that darkness. Never again. I’ll drown out the voices with liquor if I have to.

Chapter 20

Emily

When Chris steps out onto the race tracks, I look up from my book and watch him wave to the crowd. His face looks a little washed out and the dark circles under his eyes make him look a little sick. It looks like he didn’t sleep at all last night. I wonder if it’s because of what happened.

I tried not to think about it, but that never lasts long. I’m completely embarrassed about it because I told him and myself that I would never fall for him again. And then I let him kiss me. One thing led to another and then … oh god … what did I do? Why did I go along with him? He’s my stepbrother, for god’s sakes; he’s supposed to be off-limits. Dangerous. An asshole. And so undeniably irresistible, it’s driving me insane.

I can’t get my head straight. Ever since last night, thoughts have been spinning through my mind. Thoughts about him, naked. Him sucking my lip. Him wanting me so badly … and it makes me weak in the knees.

I’m not easily persuaded to go all the way for a guy, but somehow, Chris manages to make me go the full monty just by flicking his fingers, and I hate it. I’m obsessed with him to the point of loathing myself for allowing anything to happen between us.

I should’ve cut it off when it began, but my body is like gasoline, and he just lit the fire … he knows exactly what makes me burn.

He’s known it all along, how to get me to do things. He’s always been like that, manipulative, always getting his way. And the worst part of it all is that I can never get enough.

It’s bad, it’s dangerous, and it’s so not okay. Especially considering the fact that we’re family now and family doesn’t fuck each other. At least not in the literal sense. Our relationship ended when we were teens, and it should’ve stayed that way.

But now … I don’t know what’s happening now. It’s as if I’m floating between wantonness and deep-seated hatred, and I can’t pick a side.

Crossing my arms across my chest, I watch him get on the bike and wait for a signal, and then he races off, always faster than everyone else does. Others catch up with him really quick, though, as he’s sloppy on the corners. He hasn’t perfected the slide with his knee yet, and each time he makes such a sharp corner, I’m afraid he might fall off the bike and get into a horrible accident.

I’m not even sure why I’m so worried; I mean, he’s Chris King, he knows how to fucking ride a motorcycle. I’ve seen so myself, especially last night. But still, I feel like I always have to watch his back. I shouldn’t even be doing this, supporting him, being here. It creates unwanted tension. I only came because he invited me last week, but that was before …

Dammit, I really have to stop thinking about him and his goddamn addictive kisses.

I grab my purse and take out my phone, determined to get my mind off Chris King. He might be deliciously sexy, but he’s still that same guy from before, that asshole who only cared about himself and his needs. He can’t be my … boyfriend. No, what the hell, what would his parents think? His mother is my stepmother now … and I’m the stepsister of the family. They would never accept us together.

Sighing, I wait until the race is over, but I feel sorry when Chris doesn’t win. His opponent is beaming, and Chris throws his helmet to the floor like a stubborn kid who didn’t get what he wanted. Then he storms off to his room, not even caring about the race anymore. It almost seems like this is the first time he’s lost, but that can’t be possible, because it isn’t human to always win. Is it just his temper today? Or is something else the matter?

Regardless, I can’t think about it too much. I have to arrange a couple of interviews for him, and I have to make sure he’s ready and pumped for the next race. That’s my job, and I should stick to what I’m good at. No more confused Emily. There’s no more room in me for that. I just have to stick to what I know, which is not involving myself with family unless it’s utterly necessary.

I make my way down the bleachers, but then my stepmother suddenly pulls me with her. “Come with me, Emily.”

“No, wait, I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I have to work,” I say.

“Work can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” I say, but she’s still dragging me along.

“Yes, it can.” Her voice is stern. “You need to relax every now and then. Take a breather. I don’t want you to work yourself to death.”

She’s one to talk.

“Where are we going anyway?” I ask, stumbling after her.

“You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later and I’m celebrating the victory of another racer, whose name was conveniently Victor as well, which makes me snigger. Of course, I’m the only one who finds it remotely amusing, but that’s okay. I’m not even sure what I’m doing here, drinking champagne with people I don’t even know, but my stepmother kind of dragged me into it, and it’s rude to step out. Besides, maybe I’ll create new professional ties here; that’s always good for the business.

“So, Emily, you work for a PR agency?” Victor asks me with his French-like accent. I’m not sure what it is or where he’s from, but it sounds luxurious.

“Ah, yeah, I organize interviews and control what is released to the media.” I take the last sip of my champagne.

“Oh, fascinating,” he says, handing me another glass.

“Oh, no, thank you,” I say, but he shoves it in my hand anyway.

“I insist.” The sparkle in his eyes makes me a little apprehensive, but I have to admit, he is handsome. Different from Chris. Not rugged or dirty in a sexy way, but more sophisticated and delicately sexy. It’s a breath of fresh air, but at the same time, I’m still not sure what in the hell I’m doing here.

“I should really be going actually,” I say, clearing my throat.

“Why?” my mother suddenly intervenes. “You’ve only just introduced yourself to Victor.”

I blush. “Why is it so important to you?”

“Oh, did she not tell you?” Victor says, smiling coyly.

“What?” I glance at her with brows drawn together, wondering what she’s been up to now.

“I think you two should get to know each other better,” she says with a gentle shrug. Oh, dear god. Did she just really say that? Is this what I think it is?

“You … this is …” My face turns beet-red. “Oh, my god.”

“Oh, Emily, don’t make such a fuss. Just enjoy the party.” Tricia waves and walks back into the crowd.

“Tricia!” I yell after her, but she ignores me completely.

“What’s wrong?” Victor says.

I rub my lips together, wondering if I should explain it to him or if it would make me come across as some sort of creepy stalker weirdo. “Um … I think my stepmother kind of wanted to … play the matchmaker.” I clear my throat, but it’s not helping me getting rid of this lump in my throat.

He smiles, like broadly, teeth and all, and I’m just flabbergasted at his response. “Matchmaking as in a date? With a beautiful lady such as yourself? I wouldn’t mind.” He smirks. “It’s weird. But in a cute way.”

I smile a little and decide that it might not be that bad after all. I mean, my stepmother can be annoying at times, but this might actually be a great idea. What other way do I have to get over Chris? It’s not as if we can be together anyway, no matter whether I want to or not … This man isn’t part of my family, and it would be a hell of a lot less complicated.

I take another sip of the champagne. Already feeling intoxicated, I make the decision to just go for it. I have nothing to lose and a whole lot to gain.

“Well, Victor. Tell me about yourself,” I say, placing my hand on his upper arm. A classic flirt. Subtle but to the point.

Right when he opens his mouth to talk, the door is smashed open.

In steps Chris, with a face that predicts thunder.

Oh, crap. Shit’s about to go down.

Chapter 21

Emily

Chris storms through the room, shoving away the tables, spilling drinks everywhere, and pushing people aside as if they’re mere obstacles in his way. His eyes are blazing, furiously hot, and the moment they settle on me, I freeze in place, overcome by the primal agony edged on his face.

“Who is he?” Chris yells.

He’s not walking straight. At first, I thought it was from the rage, but then seeing him walk criss-cross makes me think he drank too much instead.

“Chris?” I say as he comes toward me.

“Victor?” he yells, his eyes widening, and then narrowing again. “You …”

“Calm down,” I say, but the moment he reaches us, he’s got his fist palmed and an attack is imminent. “No!” I yell, grabbing his arm, blocking him from hurting Victor. “Chris, stop! What are you doing?” I scream.

“You son of a bitch!” Chris yells in a drunken slur. “Get your hands off her.”

Victor steps back. “I’m not even touching her.”

“I saw you,” Chris says.

“Chris, calm the fuck down before you get your ass kicked,” I growl, pushing him back when he tries to attack Victor again.

“The only one kicking ass here is me.” I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“What’s your fucking problem, dude?” Victor says.

“You! You’re my fucking problem, that’s what,” Chris points at him, but he can’t even keep his hand steady.

Oh god, this is turning into a PR nightmare.

I lower his arm and hiss, “Shut up. One more word and I’ll be the one kicking your ass instead.” When his lips part again, I interrupt him before he has the chance to speak. “Shh! No.”

I glance at Victor and say, “Sorry, he’s a little … bummed about the race. I’m really, really sorry. He’s kind of an asshole, sometimes. Very overprotective of his little sister.”

Victor raises his brow. “You know this could get him kicked out of the competition.”

“Please … please don’t.” I beg Victor with my eyes to consider forgetting about this. “Please don’t mention it to anyone. I’ll make sure he doesn’t cause any more trouble, just please don’t file a complaint.”

“All right,” he says. “For the lovely lady.” He clears his throat and addresses the rest of the people in the party who have gone awfully quiet. “Let’s continue the party. Nothing to see here.”

The music volume returns, and I mouth a ‘thank you’ to Victor before pulling Chris with me. He’s quite heavy when he’s not walking properly, and I have trouble dragging him through the crowd. “Goddammit, Chris. What the hell is wrong with you?” I glance over my shoulder at him.

“You were flirting with him. You can’t deny it. I know what I saw,” he hisses.

“I’m not,” I say, dragging him out the door, “but it’s still none of your business what I do.”

“You want to be with a guy like him?” he says, his words slurring a bit.

I sigh out loud, still dragging him along. I’m not really in the mood to explain myself to him, considering the way he behaved. But when we’re halfway to his room, he stops in his tracks and forces me to stop as well.

“Tell me what you were doing with him, Em.”

“Talking,” I say, jerking my arm loose. “Now let’s go to your room.”

“No, I wanna know why.”

I roll my eyes. “Your mother tried to play matchmaker.”

“What?” he growls, seething with hatred. “I’m gonna fucking—”

“Chris!” I interrupt. “Stop. Don’t you finish that sentence. I don’t wanna hear it. You’re drunk and a danger to everyone around you.”

“You let her introduce you to him?” he yells. “You should’ve told me. You should’ve come to me first.”

“Why? So you could persuade me not to go?” I fold my arms. “Just because that’s in your best interest doesn’t mean it’s in mine.”

I turn around and start walking again. If he doesn't come with me to his room, then I’ll leave him here. No way is he not going to follow me now that he knows.

“You don’t know what he does to girls!” I hear his footsteps behind me, so I guess I was right. He even follows me into his own dressing room, still yelling at me. “Things … fuck, I don’t even want to talk about them, but I can tell you it’s sick.” He grabs my arm again and twists me around. “Em, you gotta believe me, you do not want to be anywhere near this guy.” He kicks the door closed.

I frown, cocking my head. “Look …”

“You can’t go talk to that guy, Em,” he interjects.

Now I’m really getting pissed off. “I can do whatever the hell I want, Chris. Talk to him, date him, heck, even kiss him or fuck him.”

Chris suddenly rams his fist into one of the lockers, scaring the living shit out of me. “No!”

“You’re just acting like a jealous asshole,” I spit.

He comes toward me, so I take steps back until I hit the table. When I can’t back up any more, I reach for the first thing I can find and hold it out in front of me. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He raises his brow. “Come near you? What, you afraid of me now, too?”

“You’re fucking drunk and you just smashed that locker! Are you crazy? Yes, I’m scared.”

The look in his eyes softens to the point of his eyes drifting off to the floor. His shoulders slump and he lets out a big sigh.

“I’m sorry …” Licking his lips, he takes another step, but I’m still not trusting it. “Please, don’t be afraid of me.” He holds out his hand. “I won’t hurt you.”

“How am I supposed to believe that after what you just did? Smashing lockers? Threatening to hit people?” I fight the tears. “You embarrassed yourself big time there. Do you know how people were looking? This is going to be a nightmare to fix.”

He parts his lips, but then shuts them again, mulling as he gazes at the floor. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit is right.”

He looks up at me again, still holding out his hand. “I’m sorry. About everything. But please give me that wrench.”

Only now do I look at the item in my hand and realize it’s a possible weapon. What am I doing? I wasn’t going to hit him with that, was I? God no, I’m not violent. I’m not this kind of person.

With trembling hands, I hand it to him, swallowing away the nerves. I don’t even know why I thought of defending myself with it anyway. Am I that afraid of him getting close to me again?

“Thank you.” He places the wrench on the table behind me and then places both his hands on the side of the table. “I mean it. I’m really sorry.”

“You’re an asshat; you know that, right?” I say.

He laughs a little. “Yeah … I hear that a lot.”

“And completely wasted.”

He shrugs. “Ah, well … it happens.”

“It doesn’t just happen. Tell me why?”

He laughs in a drunken haze. “So you can lecture me?”

“No because I care about you.” This makes his eyes light up like fire. “As a person,” I add, which immediately extinguishes the flames.

I don’t know why I said it. It just felt like I had to. I don’t want to send signals I’m not even sure I should be sending. Maybe I’m just afraid of the consequences … of being clear. Once you make a choice, you can’t go back, right? So I’m not making any choice … I’m just hovering safely in the middle.

But I hate that it’s hurting him.

“Chris …” I sigh. “You can’t go drink like that. You’ll ruin your career. You can’t do that to yourself.”

“I know,” he says. “I knew it when I drank the first drop.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because …” He gazes up at the ceiling for a second. “I just needed it to numb the pain.”

His gaze lowers to meet mine, and my heart skips a beat. Pain? What kind of pain? Because he lost the race or because he thought he’d lost me?

My hand instinctively reaches for his face, the desire to comfort him too strong to ignore. “What do you mean?”

The tortured look he gives me is nothing short of heartbreaking. “I can’t bear losing.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, smiling at him. “I know it must suck not to always win a race, but it’s okay, you’ll be so much better next time.”

“That’s not what I mean …” He places his hand over mine. “Sure, it’s part of the reason why I turned to liquor, but it’s not the only reason.”

I bite my lip as he places his hand back on the edge of the table and leans in, his forehead touching mine. “Nights spent with nightmares does something to a person.”

“Oh …” I swallow, trying to ignore the sadness I’m feeling because of his troubles.

“I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I can’t even fucking drive a bike.” He shakes his head, and I can feel his grip tightening on the table as he’s almost lifting it up from the floor.

“And now this … you, with that guy.”

“You have to let it go, Chris.”

“No, I won’t,” he growls, frowning. “I’m not letting you near that dude again.”

“It’s not your choice.” I lean back, but it only makes him lean in more. “I can do what I want. You can’t stop me.”

“Watch me.” Something about the way he says it, the roughness in his voice, warms me to my core.

“I think you’re just jealous,” I say.

His lip twitches. “Fuck yes, I am.”

I suck in a breath, my pussy thumping from those words. I don’t know why my body responds to his voice the way it does, but it’s making me want to do things I shouldn’t be doing. God, why is it so hard to resist?

His gaze grows more intense with every passing second. “Do you know how hard it’s been for me to watch you prance around in front of me, shouting orders, pretending you don’t like me, when all I’ve wanted was you?”

Oh, god. It’s happening, again. No matter how much I want to say no, it’s becoming impossible with him all up on me, in my face, breathing down my neck … just thinking about it gets me hot and bothered.

“Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about putting my hand over your mouth, turning you around, and just banging you against this table until you scream my fucking name?” he murmurs. “I come home with a fucking hard-on, and my cock is still stiff by the time I go to bed. All I think about is you, and the worst part is that I can’t even do anything about it anymore,” he growls, grabbing my arm, pinning me to the table. “I used to be able to fuck around, forget about you, and do whatever the hell I damn well pleased. But now? Now all I can think about is how I can bend you over, and it’s making me want to drown myself in alcohol.”

His words sting and I’m not sure whether I want to smash my lips on his or smash his skull in for saying that last bit.

“I’m sorry you can’t fuck around anymore because of me,” I hiss. “But you know damn well it isn’t good for you and your reputation.”

“Fuck, Em! I don’t fucking miss it. Not since I have you back in my life.” He runs his hand up my arm, creating goosebumps everywhere. “I didn’t want to do it in the first place, but when you want someone you can’t have, you turn to other people to relieve your stress.”

“You mean to give you what you need. So is that all you want? Sex?”

“No, yes, fuck yes,” he mutters, still half-drunk. “But more. Everything.”

“So that whole part of wanting me as your PR lady was just a trick to get near me?”

“No … yes …” He shakes his head and grunts. “I need help in the media department.” He looks up at me with puppy eyes that make my heart wrench with guilt. “But I also need you. Even though you don’t want me, I still want you. Every fucking day. And it’s eating me up.” He lets out an exasperated breath.

“So that’s why you’ve been drinking …” I mutter.

“I drink to forget, and after yesterday, I need lots of forgetting.”

“I’m sorry I make you want to forget, Chris.”

“I don’t want to forget!” He slams his hands on the table. “But you want me to. I do it because you need me to.”

I smash my lips together, not knowing how to answer.

“It’s been so hard to keep from ravaging you, from taking what you don’t want to give to me. When I fucked other girls, I thought of you. And now that you’re here, I can’t even do it anymore. It’s like I’m betraying you.”

“You’re not betraying me, Chris,” I say.

“I don’t want anyone else but you,” he says, licking his lips in such a sexy way it makes my heart beat in my throat. My lips are already parted, desperate to let him kiss them. God, why do I find him so irresistible?

“I don’t want to scare you off, which is why I’m trying to take it slow. That’s working out well, as you can see.” He tries to laugh it off a little. “I’m fucking wasted.”

“I’ll take away all the bottles and keep you away from alcohol for a while. Until you’re okay again.”

He grabs my other arm too now. “No, I mean I’m fucking wasted on you.”

His lips are so close; I only need to lean in and I’d be kissing him. Sweet, deliciously sinful kisses teasing my senses.

“I can’t fight it, Em. I need you. I want you,” he murmurs, his hot breath warming my lips. “I can’t fight it any longer.”

I bite on my lip, which makes him groan. “When you bite your lip like that it makes me want to be the one biting your lip,” he growls. “I can’t fight the urge anymore. I have to have you.” His hand cups my face, tilting my head. “Yesterday wasn’t enough. I need more. So much more. I wanna taste you, kiss you, lick you, fuck you, god, how much I wanna fuck you.”

I should push him away, but my body lets him move closer instead, welcoming his seductive touch and greedy lips.