Asshole.
“Ithink you should keep your hands to yourself,” I retort, a bite to my tone.
He hums, scrutinizing me in a way that has me shifting my weight to the other leg and my hand flying to my necklace. I glide it back and forth along the chain as I bake beneath his burning stare.
I'mveryuncomfortable.
Except my nipples harden and my stomach fills with the same heat radiating from the inferno in his eyes before slowly sinking between my thighs.
“Why did you run from me?” he asks quietly.
“I didn’t run from you. I ran from what comeswithyou.”
His jaw clenches, but he stays silent, waiting for me to explain.
I turn my focus straight ahead to the wall. “If you didn’t post that picture of us, no one would’ve thought for a second it was you in my room. She probably wouldn't have recorded it all.” I shrug a shoulder. “Or maybe she would've, but she probably would’ve just sent it to you to use against me. People only care about me because of you.”
Still, he stays quiet, studying me.
“Now, we’re all over the internet, and because of our past, the world is having a goddamn field day theorizing how we came to be. People are questioning why the fuck we’d want anything to do with each other, and the worst part is,Idon’t even know the answer to that.”
I huff out a humorless laugh, returning my attention to him and finally releasing my necklace to toss my arms out to my sides. I feel almost defeated as I say, “I mean, seriously, Dread. What the fuck are we even doing? I don’t know what your end goal is here—to fuck me until you can get revenge on my father and then…” I struggle for words and then throw up a frustrated hand as I question, “We break up and go our separate ways? So all of this is for, what? What’s the point in dragging me into the public eye, declaring me as your girlfriend, and fucking me, only to eventually let me go, anyway? Just to torture me some more?”
His brows jump up on his forehead, sounding genuinely shocked as he asks, “You think I’d let you go?”
I shake my head, at a loss for words for a few beats.
“I suspect you'll eventually meet some girl you'll want to marry and breed with, no? I'm pretty damn confident she won't be okay with you continuing to terrorize another woman for the rest of your life. I mean, graduation is in three months, Dread.”
He releases another humorless chuckle, as if I’m a silly child who just doesn’t get it.
My heart dips and my spine snaps straight, prickling at the condescension and ready to pop him in the mouth.
He casually prowls toward me, each thunderous step rattling my bones like they belong to a hundred-foot giant. He comes to a stop before me, his chest brushing against mine and agitating my sensitive nipples. I inhale, letting my head fall almost all the way back as I glare up at him.
I jolt as he softly brushes my bangs out of my eyes, his gaze almost reverent.
“Why would I marry someone else when I can marry you and have you right by my side to torment forever?”
My mouth pops open, confounded by his audacity. It takes several seconds to find my voice again.
“Like I'd ever marry you,” I say, spitting out the words like they're rotten. “Why would I marry someone who only wants to hurt me?”
He smirks as he pinches my chin and leans down until barely an inch of space remains between our mouths.
“Because it makes you so fucking happy when I do,” he rasps quietly, gravel lining his throat. “You make those sexy little giggles and give me such a big smile, right before you come so fucking hard for me.” He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, a pleased hum vibrating his throat as he glances between my lips and eyes, settling on the latter before saying, “The day I never see that again will be the day you bury me six feet under wearing a black dress, my mourning little widow.”
Chills roll down my spine, and my abdomen contracts around the boiling pit within.
Even if I had something to say to any of that, my voice box is out of order, no longer in operation.
“I'm all you’ll ever have, Reverie. I would never claim you to the entire world just to let someone else have you,” he says, as if I'm just a silly little goose.
I recoil. “So this is just about possessing me? So no one else can have me? You hate my guts, but I’m a fun toy to play with, is that it?”
He smirks. “Not a toy, baby. You’re my little violin, remember?”
It’s my turn to laugh, except all I feel is fury and something akin to hurt.
