“Not true,” I whispered, holding tight to his waist.
“Liar. I can feel how badly you want me, Tinkerbell,” he said, a bare inch from my mouth. Then he leaned forward and took my lower lip in his teeth, biting down. The metallic taste of blood hit my tongue, and I was sure he was going to leave a scar. Then he licked the small wound he’d given me and gave me a look of deep satisfaction. It was as though he wanted to carve his name into me, to leave some obvious claiming mark on me.
You are mine,his eyes proclaimed.
You are nothing to me,his words told me.
And I would probably never know for certain which sentiment won out, though I was sure he thought he was making it clear to me.
“I don’t like it, though. I don’t like it when you don’t kiss me and won’t let me connect emotionally with you at all. It’s all too cold like that; I prefer you engaged,” I said softly. I slid my hand beneath his sweater to rub the base of his spine. His muscles tightened when my fingers touched them, and I delighted in the smooth warmth of his skin.
Even just touching his muscles gave me a hard jolt in the bottom of my stomach.
“And I prefer you naked, Tinkerbell. Naked and needy underneath me.But only when you’re not driving me crazy,” he whispered into my ear, and I flushed.
How did he have such an insane talent for planting the obscenest images in my mind? If someone had told me in the past that I would one day become so thoroughly wicked, I never would have believed them. Still, I tried to demonstrate a little self-control and put my hands against his hips to push him away from me.
“I need to shower and eat,” I told him. Just then, my stomach let out a growl as if to confirm my words. Neil gave me a tiny, cryptic smile and a long, scrutinizing look. He was probably pleased to see how thoroughly he’d exhausted me. “You can take a shower in the guest bathroom, if you want,” I said, putting a little stress on “guest bathroom” to eliminate the possibility of him trying to worm his way into my shower. I didn’t have his endurance. I was sore all over, and I couldn’t let him get his hands on me again when my mother might walk in on us at any time.
“Okay,” was his only response. Then he walked off down the hallway, and I could breathe again.
Once I was confident that I was alone, I tried to process exactly what had just happened.
Neil had steamrolled me, shifting moods on a dime and never explaining any of his feelings. I suspected he had gotten jealous, though he’d never straight out admitted it. I decided not to dig into that issue again, though. With Neil, the line between discussion and argument was very thin. Sometimes I found it so hard to understand him: His mind was terra incognita, his soul was impenetrable, and his character was a complete mystery.
I shook off those thoughts, however, and went up to my room to clean up. As I got undressed, I saw that marks on my fair skin had definitely multiplied. Fortunately, my clothing would cover enough of them that no one—most especially my mother—would get suspicious. They were bruises left by a man at the peak of pleasure, and for that reason I was glad I had them. It felt flattering, having something of Neil still on me.
After showering, I put my hair up in a ponytail and pulled on my leggings, covering them with a thin sweater that fell just below my butt. I stepped into my fuzzy slippers, well aware that they weren’t remotely sexy,and walked back to the kitchen. Neil wasn’t there yet; undoubtedly, he was still relaxing in the hot shower, so I decided to make us both something to eat. It was late, but I was starving, and I figured he’d probably skipped dinner too.
I grabbed a pan, deciding to make grilled cheese. Something easy and fast. I glanced at the kitchen doorway as I settled the pan on the burner.
There wasn’t even a hint of Neil’s presence.
What if he just ran away?
It wouldn’t have shocked me; he was unpredictable, after all.
I chuckled at the thought as I opened the bread and put two buttered slices in the pan. I grabbed a couple of slices of cheese from the fridge and layered them on top of the bread, focused on my culinary efforts.
All at once, the air was thick with the strong scent of bath gel. I breathed it in, getting drunk on it, and like a moth determined to light herself aflame, I turned to face Neil. My eyes went wide and my lips drew tight when he sauntered into the kitchen shirtless, the toki on his right bicep fully visible, and the pikorua on his hip only partially hidden by his dark jeans. I could vividly recall where the design ended, right at the root of his…
I cleared my throat and scrutinized instead his damp amber skin, his wet, tousled hair… I could not help but appreciate the sheer magnificence of his body. His magnetic eyes met my gaze with identical desire, and I shivered from a wave of heat that I could not control. Neil sat down on a stool, his abdominal muscles contracting with the movement. Once again, I thought about what a profoundly masculine form he had. He seemed to me like some otherworldly creature with an untamed appeal sent by God to make women—me included—fall at his feet.
None of us could escape his lure.
He furrowed his brow at me until he noticed the way my eyes were locked on his pecs, then he gave me a self-satisfied smile.
Suddenly, I felt a wave of sadness come over me as I thought about how it would feel on that inevitable day when I lost him for good. I knew it was coming.
Neil was far from perfect. He wasn’t some prince you’d be happy to introduce to your friends or take home to your parents. Being with himmeant walking through hell, but somehow, it felt better than heaven when he was with me.
I might have done anything, even lost my mind completely, if he were actually gone from my life. Yet, I was the one who kept saying that we needed to stay away from each other even if I didn’t have the guts to actually put any distance between us.
“I think it’s burning.” His voice shocked me awake, and for a moment, I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I figured it out almost immediately—the grilled cheese!
I immediately turned back to the frying pan, where the sandwiches had turned from nicely golden to almost charcoal.
“Dammit,” I muttered awkwardly. I scooped the sandwiches up with the spatula and transferred them to the plates, burning my thumb in the process.
