“Yes.” Her voice breaks on the word, raw and desperate. “Right there.”
Knowing she’s past fighting me, I release one of her wrists and snake a hand between us. Her clit is slick and swollen, and the second I touch it, she whimpers. Her free hand clutches my shoulder while the other stays pinned where I left it, obedient even in her desperation.
“Look at me,” I command when her eyes start to flutter closed, when she tries to escape into sensation alone.
They open, heavy-lidded and dark, pupils blown wide. And there it is—that connection I’ve been craving since the night she kissed me in my truck a year ago. That sense of rightness that shouldn’t exist but does anyway. She’s mine at this moment, completely mine, even if she’ll go back to pretending she hates me tomorrow.
“I hate you,” she whispers, even as her body moves with mine and she chases the pleasure I’m giving her.
“No, you only wish you did.”
“No. I do. I hate—” Her words are cut off with a gasp as I hit that spot again, harder, my fingers working her clit in tight circles. “Oh God.”
“This doesn’t feel like hate, sweet girl. It feels like you’re about to come.” I increase the pressure, and her body tightens around me, drawing closer to the edge. “Fuck, come for me, Saint. Come on my cock.”
She’s making these small, desperate sounds now, her body finally surrendering to the pleasure instead of fighting it.
“Calder—” My name on her lips while I’m inside her nearly breaks me, making my rhythm falter.
“Come for me, baby. I want to feel how much youhateme.” I circle her clit with my thumb, maintaining the rhythm that’s driving her toward the edge, feeling her body coil tighter and tighter around me. “Come for me. Come on my cock.”
And just like that she comes apart with a cry, her body clenching around me in waves, pulsing, pulling me deeper. The sensation pushes me over the edge right behind her, pleasure whiting out everything else.
I should pull out, but I’m far too consumed with the need to be inside her that I don’t even try. I explode, filling her with my cum, marking her in the most primitive way possible. For a moment, we just stay like that. Breathing hard. Tangled together. Connected in a way that has nothing to do with force or fear and everything to do with this desperate need between us.
I pull away carefully, releasing her wrists. Red marks bloom where I held her, and guilt twists in my gut.
“You’re bleeding.” I notice the smear of blood on her thigh, on the counter, on me.
I grab a dish towel and run it under warm water before gently cleaning her up. Thankfully, she doesn’t protest.
When I’m done, I take her into my arms and carry her toward the stairs. It aches like a bitch with my ribs still hurting, but it’s worth it to feel her soft and dreamy against me.
Sighing, she leans her head back against my chest. “Can you get the whiskey? I think we need to talk.”
As if I could refuse her after the moment we just shared, I turn, snag the bottle off the counter, and walk us both up to our bed naked. I ease her into the clean sheets, bring the blanket up, and snuggle in next to her so she rests her head up on my shoulder, then I hand her the bottle. If it’ll make her open up, I’ll take it.
“What do you want to talk about?”
She lets out a cute little hiccup, and I can’t help but grin. “I owe you an apology.”
I tilt so I can look into her face, sure I heard her wrong. “You owe me an apology?”
“I was upset, and I took it out on you. It’s just. I feel so helpless. It’s one thing after another, and just when I think maybe I can work through each new horror, another pops up.” Her words slur together a little fast but are clear.
“Saint—”
“No, please, let me finish. It’s pretty obvious we have no problem being together physically. But I don’t see how I can give you anything else with the threat of your father constantly hanging over us.”
I consider what she’s saying...and somehow come up with the fact that she’s thinking about feeling anything for me.After everything.It’s not like she is wrong. There’s no real future for Saint and me with my father in control.
I’ve been racking my brain, trying to think of a way to get rid of him, but I don’t have anything concrete yet. Of course I don’t tell her that.
I tilt her chin up. “I know, sweet girl. I know, but someday, it won’t be like that. I promise, okay? I just need you to give me a little time and trust me.”
Her eyes flutter closed, and she clutches the whiskey bottle to her chest like a teddy bear as she leans into me. “Don’t take toolong,” she whispers. “I don’t know how much more I can take.” I gulp down a lump in my throat and cuddle her close.
Fear wasn’t something I was used to feeling, especially when it came to feeling it about others, but for the first time in my life, I was afraid for someone else who wasn’t a member of my family. When it came to Saint, everything I had thought I knew about myself and what I wanted got flipped on its head.
