However, I don’t really believe in that shit.
What I do believe in isher.
She’s my crazy, my addiction, my deliverance, and damnation.
She’s my bedlam.
And as she drags her teeth along my bottom lip, my heart seems to explode in burning confetti.
“I wanted it to be you,” I breathe.
Gemma stills. She pulls back, her lashes lifting. And when our eyes meet, she tightens her arm around my waist.
“What?” she breathes.
“I wanted her to be you,” I repeat. “My stalker. I wanted you to be the same person. I even fantasized about it. I thought… how fucked up is that? How damaged am I to want my stalker to be the person I’ve been falling for every day since DeathFest… The person who makes me feel like maybe letting someone in is worth any pain I might feel later. Because I knew I’d never be able to getherout of my head. And I wanted…”
I release an uneven breath, gaze darting over her face.
“I wanted it to be you. So. Fucking.Badly.”
Gemma’s tongue darts out over her lips as she brushes a stray strand of hair from my eyes. My chest is pounding so hard I wonder if she can feel it.
“You’ve always had me, Bonnie,” she whispers. “I’ve always been yours.”
Yours.
When our lips meet this time, my entire world sets on fire.
Words can’t entirely describe every way that my body weakens, the way my heart warms and sinks, how my hair stands on end and my toes curl. Yet, somehow, it all happens. All at once. In an overwhelming, completely encompassing spiral that I want to drown within.
If I believed, I’d say this was the moment when our halves realized they were once more whole.
But we’re just two shades of fucked, two people desperate for love, for someone who sees our madness and doesn’t run.
Someone who fights for us.
I groan into her mouth when our lips part, tongues sloppily gliding against one another, and Gemma’s own moan vibrates the hand I place on her throat.
“God, do that again,” Gemma breathes into me.
And as the kiss deepens, as the world turns to acid and disappears around us, I forget I’m even supposed to be angry with her.
Fuck the noise.
Fuck the past.
Fuck what’s “good” for me, and what isn’t.
I don’t care.
I just want this.
I just wanther.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
GEMMA
