“I used to enjoy watching you get pissy; I might keep doing it.”
She slaps my chest, and I catch her hand in mine as the most earth-shattering smile graces her lips. “Used to? I kinda feel like you still do.”
Bringing her hand to my lips, I press a kiss on her palm, hearing the snag in her breathing.
“There’s nothing about you that I don’t enjoy, darling, and I know there’s a lot more I’ve still to learn.”
She might think the old her is gone, but I know it’s still in there; she’s just had to adapt because of what she was subjected to, to protect herself.
I’m here now. She doesn’t have to battle those demons.
I fucking own them.
Her hands wrap behind my neck, and I hike her further up me, to the point she’s flush with my chest. Her familiar scent wraps around me, and fuck do I want to drown in it.
Death by Indie, that’s the only way I’ll happily go.
“Saint?”
“Mhm?” I rub my thumbs against her ribs, remembering her tattoo.
It coaxes a devilish smile from me, because I’d never in a million years imagine her getting one, and the script she has couldn’t fit her more perfectly.
“I really, really fucking missed you.”
Her whispered confession has the vertebrae in my chest contracting with her words.
I’ve never been angry at her for asking me to leave, only at myself for listening.
I could have stayed, kept my distance, and let myself live in torture.
Happily.
Allowed myself to physically watch her from afar.
But if I did that, we might never have got here. She might not evenbehere.
Life could have taken a worse turn if we both didn’t go our separate ways.
“Indie?”
“Yes?” I can feel her ribcage expanding beneath my palms. Her breaths quicken, her blue-fire eyes locking with mine.
“I haven’t been able to fucking breathe without you.”
This time she slams her lips to mine, and I greedily eat her up.
Our kiss is hungry, desperate, and driving me to the brink of fucking madness.
I stand as she wraps her legs behind me, walking us over to the desk to drop her down on it.
Her impatient little paws fumble for my belt, and the metal of the buckle clinks off the floor as she reaches for the zipper.
Fuck. Maybe I should stop her—
The warmth of her hand wrapping around my cock forces me to bite back a guttural groan.
She works her way up and down my length, swiping her thumb over the tip, and I can’t help but grind into her hold.
