“Probably.” I reach for her face, thumbs brushing away tears. She doesn't pull away. “But I don't fucking care anymore.”
I tilt her face up, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Why are you here, Venom?”
As quickly as they came, her tears have gone. Vanished. As if they never existed. “Because I'm weak when it comes to—”
“—Wanting me?” I test.
“Needing you.” The correction destroys something in both of us. “And that's so much worse.”
My heart pounds against my ribs. “Ivy—”
“Don't.” She presses her fingers to my lips, and I taste salt from her tears. “Don't make this harder. Please. I'm trying to be smart about this. I'm trying to protect us both.”
I kiss her fingertips, watching her face fracture. “What if I don't want to be protected?”
“Then you're a fool.” But her hand slides into my hair, betraying her words.
“Tell me you don't feel this.” I press closer, eliminating every inch of space. “Tell me last night meant nothing. Tell me you can walk away and forget.”
“I can't.” The admission breaks her. “But I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because if I don't—” Her breath hitches, something dark flickering over her eyes.
I grab her by the chin, cutting off her words. “I'm done. Done letting him have you when you're supposed to be mine.”
“I'm not yours.” But her body says otherwise, arching into mine.
“Keep telling yourself that.” My mouth hovers over hers, fueling the fire she started inside of me the first time we met. “Maybe one day you'll believe it.”
“This is wrong.” Her hands fist in my shirt, tits brushing my chest. “This is so fucking wrong.”
“Is it?” I brush my lips across her jaw, feeling her shudder. “Are you sure?”
“Asher, please.” She's begging now, but I don't know for what.
My thigh presses between her legs and her breath catches. “I'm done waiting for you to decide if I'm worth breaking that perfectly constructed script.”
Her body tenses, and seconds pass.
Yeah, you gonna catch that or let it go?
Her mask slips back into place. “It's not about worth. It's about survival.”
“Venom,” I beg, and it feels like eating dirt. I don't beg. I don't ask. I take. But with her, everything's different. “Let me fucking help you.”
“You can't help me.” She sounds defeated. “No one can.”
My lip curls. “Watch me.”
“You're fucking stubborn.” her hips move, as if she meant to rub against me.
“And you talk too much.” My mouth claims hers and she melts into it as if on command. I bury my fingers into her hair, pulling it tight and using my grip to bend her head to the side and deepen the kiss. Her tongue plays with mine in that intoxicating way that makes my chest tighten.
I pour every ounce of frustration into the kiss, teeth catching her bottom lip hard enough to make her gasp. Her nails rake down my chest through my shirt, and that's all the permission I need.
My hands find the zipper of her coat, yanking it down with enough force that the metal protests. She shrugs out of it, already pulling at my shirt, buttons scattering across hardwood.
