“If the only way to love you is to drown, then I won’t hold my breath, Reverie. I’ll inhale you and keep you safe inside me.”
The reminder of those words has my stomach flipping wildly. It’s not a bad feeling, but it’s extremely overwhelming and intense andoh God—I’m already descending into a panic attack.
Clearing my throat, I pull out my hand from his for a second time and promptly ignore his burning stare as it sears through the side of my head. I’m trying to calm my heart rate down, but that’s really fucking hard to do when the dickhead is juststaringat me.
His empty hand slumps on my thigh, so I give it an awkward little pat. “Thanks for your service.”
And then, I turn toward the window, because I’m really fucking embarrassed now, and I hate myself and my life.
He chuckles but removes it from my lap so he can start the car. The tension is thick as he pulls out of the overgrown driveway.
We have forty-five minutes of this, and I don’t think I’m going to survive.
I mean, the man told me he loved me, for fuck’s sake. In front of hismother. And I came really close to saying it back, because I’m weak, and he’sstupidlyfucking gorgeous and so good in bed, I’m genuinely worried for my heart and blood pressure health. But also because I do share those feelings, except I can’t say I’ve forgiven all he’s done to me, so I refuse to let myself fully acknowledge them. I’m aware of them floating in the recesses of my heart, but that’s as much attention as they get.
He hasn’t apologized for what he’s put me through, and, frankly, it hasn’t been that long since he pulled his bullshit on me, so until amnesia becomes a symptom of loving someone, I can’t just… forget it all. I can’t act like it never happened and move on to professing our love while having really hot sex.
Youarehaving really hot sex with him, you dumb whore.
But that doesn’t mean I need to partake in the former as well.
My thumb flies to my mouth, and I bite down on it. I reallyshouldstop having sex with him, though. It’s not healthy for my mental well-being, and if it wasn’t already putting me at risk for internal bleeding, it definitely is for a stroke or heart attack, so my survival instincts are ordering me to put the dick down and walk away slowly.
“So where’s my apology?”
His deep voice scares the shit out of me, sending my said at-risk heart flying into my throat. I startle, hand clapping over my chest as I stare at him with wide eyes. But then, his words sink in, and I’m immediately irritated.
In a matter of seconds, my blood pressure rises, only affirming that if his dick doesn’t kill me first, his stupid mouth will.
My brows knit, and I give him a dirty look. “Pardon?”
Amusement colors his pale eyes as he glances at me, one side of his mouth curling until a dimple threatens to poke through at the top of his cheek.
“You accused me of being behind the black box. I wasn’t. So say sorry.” His smile widens, prompting him to bite his bottom lip.
My lips part, and for several moments, I can only stare blankly.
He’s joking.
He has to be.
Yet, he continues to wait, though his mirth grows with each passing second.
“Global warming could unleash upon hell and lead to the Ice Age taking over before eventually blooming into a jungle where dino-demons roam, and Istillwouldn’t apologize to you,” I say slowly. “Not after everything you’ve done to me. Whichyounever apologized for. So where’smine?”
Grinning, he peers over at me over his right arm, his wrist hanging casually over the steering wheel as he drives, black strands falling over glimmering eyes, the sunlight catching the silver hoop in his ear. He props his left elbow against his door, though his fingers have dropped to his chin.
Truly, it’s devastating how beautiful he is.
“I have a lot of different ways of apologizing in mind, darling,” he drawls wickedly, seduction dripping from his words. “I intend to give you far more than your sweet little body can take.”
I narrow my eyes despite how I instantly feel that promise between my legs. Heat forms in the pit of my stomach, warming my insides until I burn with desire. There’s no point in going to hell when it feels like, with just two simple sentences, he brought hell to me.
“How about you use your words instead?” I say, attempting to ignore how easily my body responds to him. “Ya know, like a big boy.”
His answering chuckle is dark and sends a shiver rolling down my spine.
The second his fiery stare clashes with mine, I swear, I see a spark ignite in the air from the corner of my eye. It feels like I’m inhaling water and exhaling electricity—a dangerous combination bound to kill us both.
