There’s so much I should say. So much she should hear, but the fire scorching my veins cremates my words before they ever have a chance for life.
I have her. She’s back in my arms and as desperate to feel me as I am to feel her, so I push the questions aside, drowning in the moment. I need the high only Hailey can ignite.
My tongue skims her bottom lip, teeth grazing the soft flesh. My hands fill with her hips, and that fucking kiss is more than our reunion. It’s a battle, a showcase of who craves who more.
I think I’m winning when the softest moan flies past Hailey’s lips into mine.
I think I’m the king of the world as I grip the hem of her hoodie, pulling it over her head.
I’m fuckingshakingas I dive back for her lips.
“Whose are you?” I whisper, palming her ass.
She’s wearing a night dress, if this flimsy piece of spaghetti-strapped silk can warrant the name. Her skin is on fire against mine, blown pupils almost completely swallowing that gorgeous shade of blue, her body trembling softly in anticipation.
“Yours, Nash,” she whispers, weaving her fingers through my hair to keep me in place when I try kissing a line between her perky breasts, her nipples so hard they’d cut glass. “As long as you’ll have me.”
Instead of the expected adrenaline rush those words should ignite, a cold chill zaps my spine. It’s not justNashthat hits me like a slap. It’s her tone that doubles it down, the resigned, uncertain note I catch there.
That’s not how she sounded when she said she was mine at Lakeside. Back then, she was certain I was hers too. She knew we were both swallowed by the same intense feelings. She knew I was hers as much as she was mine.
It’s different now. That certainty has been replaced with resignation, worry, and hurt. So much hurt.
She’s mine for the taking but... I’m no longer hers.
I rise on my elbows, searching her pretty face, my heart pounding, my cock so hard it’s not far off bursting through the zipper. I want her. All of her...mine. Always mine.
But something is very fucking wrong.
“Hailey, look—”
The words die on my tongue when my gaze involuntarily roves her body, devouring every soft inch of her.
I memorized every line of that milky skin, every mark on her body, and this is new.
“What the fuck is that?” I grit out, peeling myself off her.
I sit back on my calves, my mind in riot mode, every muscle battle-ready. There’s a bruise curling around her right collarbone, stretching over her back to disappear under the night dress. My temper flares in an instant. It sweeps over me like wildfire, propelling me upright.
“Turn around,” I demand, cuffing her wrist to help her out of bed. I’m not thinking clearly. Every fiber in me is consumed by pure wrath. The anger gunning through me is so potent it almost kicks my legs from under me. “Now, Hailey. Turn around.”
She shakes her head, fear clouding her eyes. “I’m fine. I promise, that’s nothi—” She bites her lip, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken. “Don’t push me away.”
“Turn around,” I seethe, barely keeping from manhandling her so I can follow the bruise’s path.
She shakes her head again but her shoulders sag and she forfeits before the battle properly starts.
Clever girl.
She knows there’s no fucking way I’ll back down.
With visible reluctance, she turns, and I stumble back.
Literally stumble when she reveals her injuries. Pure, scorching wrath burns my veins, skyrocketing my pulse. It’sravenous, this need to kill. To slowly, painfully torture whoever hurt my girl.
Every inch of her skin that’s on display is bruised in various shades of green and yellow with pale purple lines running every which way as if... as if...
Fuck... my mind soars, heartbeat intensifying so fast it knocks the breath clean from my chest. It feels like an armored gauntlet punched my stomach. Words get lost, tangled somewhere on the way out and... I can’t fuckingthink.
