“I know you’re well aware of where to find the Bexleys. If you truly wanted to know why they haven’t taken your cousin up on his offer, you would’ve gone to them and asked or, more likely, snuck in and tried to find out yourself.”
My lips snapped shut. He was right and we both knew it.
My heart rate ticked up as the silence settled between us again and I waited for the accusation that would be my undoing.
“Which can only mean you’re here,” he started slowly, taking another step in my direction, “for me.”
His step brought us nearly face to face. Warmth flooded me as I realized he was only inches from me now. I could feel the ghost of his breath against my skin and knew he could see me. Even in the dark, he was close enough to capture every twitch of my expression which I fought to maintain as neutral. He was near enough to notice the way I wasn’t breathing, how I leanedsubconsciously toward him, and the slight flush working its way up my neck and into my cheeks.
I thrust both hands out against his chest and shoved him hard, backward, away from me. He stumbled back a step but righted himself too easily, too quickly. His lips spread into a wicked grin as the moonlight caught the gleam in his eye.
“That's all you’ve got, First Ring?” he taunted as he approached.
“Fuck you,” I snapped.
“Promise?”
He leaned in, closer than before, and dipped his head. I reared back, doing everything in my power to maintain that disgusted expression, to eviscerate the butterflies taking flight in my stomach. He watched me still, eyes sweeping over my face, searching for something. I wasn’t sure what. But he waited. Lips parted only a breath away from my own, he stalled. He was going to make me do it. He was going to make me admit I wanted him. He was going to make me beg for him.
Asshole.
When he moved, I should have expected it. His eyes had given me every clue as to his intentions. I should have turned away before this, should have taken my leave and left him in the apartment I’d only wanted to see his safe return to, should have reminded him of why I’d been avoiding him, of all the reasons he shouldn’t do exactly what he was doing. But I hesitated and that would be my downfall.
His lips crushed mine in a searing kiss that scattered my brain and sent all thoughts of escape flying from my mind. His hand found the back of my head and held me there, fingers tangled in my hair. He pressed his body against mine, neck craning down to reach me, and I couldn’t fight the fire igniting in my veins. It was a perfect fit. Every curve of my body fit flush against his. Ashis lips worked against mine, I savored the taste of him on my tongue, achingly familiar and utterly new.
He kissed me hard, but I didn’t mind. The bruises on my lips felt like they belonged there, branded into my skin where they would remind me of this moment, of him, for days after. He pushed me back several steps until my back collided with the wall so hard a painting came half unhinged, swinging back and forth against the plaster. I bit his lower lip and he groaned before pushing himself even closer to me.
I had a brief moment of panic when my brain managed to connect two thoughts together long enough to realize we shouldn’t be doing this. Everything I’d ever known, ever been taught, had warned me against this. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t understand me. He couldn’t love me. But love wasn’t what fused our lips together and had us nipping at and shoving one another. There was a rage simmering beneath the surface, a confused mixture of lust and hate for everything the other stood for. He’d watched someone from my ring behead a boy from his. He’d been hostile toward Milo’s effort to build a friendship between our friends, our families. He hated my ring and everything it stood for but, like me, he couldn’t stay away. I knew there’d been something drawing me to Harrison. Now that his lips were on me, trailing from my mouth down my neck to my collarbone, I could see what that was; pure sexual tension.
I placed both hands on his chest and shoved him back, hard. He separated from me with a grunt, stumbling back a few steps before catching himself. His blazing eyes shot to mine and darkened. Breathing hard, I rushed him, pushing him back a few more steps until his legs hit the back of the couch as I reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. His lips were on mine again before I’d even dropped it, hands holding my face against his as his tongue explored my mouth. I ran my hands uphis abdomen to his chest, nails scraping against his skin, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t stop kissing me for a second.
This is a bad idea. This is such a bad fucking idea.
We were both vulnerable, both hurt, both angry, and both so irreparably impulsive. What happened between us wasn’t a slow burn, it was an explosion. A stick of dynamite lighting a match. We were each other’s destruction and neither of us had the presence of mind to fear the ruin.
When my hands found his belt, his gripped my shirt. I heard a rip as the material left my body, tossed somewhere in the dark behind us and forgotten the moment it left my chest. I fumbled with his buckle while he squeezed my breast and trailed kisses in a line below my ear.
No, he didn’t know me, but he didn’t have to. I didn’twanthim to. The only thing I needed Harrison Fletcher to know about me was where to touch and when.
Buckle undone, I pulled his belt from his pants and dropped it to the other side of the couch. Before I could reach for him, however, his hand shot out and gripped my wrist, hard. My gaze snapped to his face to find him watching me, jaw tense.
“You sure you want to fuck a Third Ringer?” he asked, eyes flashing with that anger I could feel burning the air between us.
In response, I yanked my wrist out of his grasp, popped the button of his jeans, and reached for the zipper. But he grabbed me again, grip tighter as he pulled my hand away and used the momentum to spin me until I was the one against the couch. I fought against the urge to yelp as I found myself pinned between his long legs and the sofa, my face nearly brushing the cushions as he bent me over. A thrill shot through me, straight to my core, as my knees wobbled with need.
He reached for the waistband of my jeans and pulled down. I wasn’t aware there was a breeze in this small, dark apartment until it hit my ass. I squirmed at the cold but was stunned tostillness a moment later when it was replaced by the warmth of his hands, kneading the muscles there as he stepped on the center of my jeans to lock my legs in place. I heard the zipper next and started panting.
Everything stopped. His hand left my ass and I could feel him there, still standing beside me, his gaze raking over my naked body bent before him, but nothing happened.
“Tell me now if you want me to stop, beautiful,” he said. His usual playful tone was gone, replaced by a devilish snarl that had my toes curling in my boots. “Because in about five seconds, it’s going to be too late.”
I blew a strand of hair out of my face in frustration.
“Har–”
Before I could get his name all the way out, he slammed into me. I cried out in equal parts surprise and ecstasy as he filled me and pulled back out. His hands found my waist, and he held on for leverage as he thrust hard against me from behind.
I’d had my fair share of partners in the past. At first, I’d gone after boys my own age but found dissatisfaction in their inexperience. So I’d gone older and found men who didn’t seem to know what I meant when I saidrough. They either took it too far or not far enough and that was after a lengthy conversation about boundaries and preferences. Harrison knew. We’d hardly said a word to one another. I hadn’t even meant to kiss him. But somehow, he knew.
