Her world becomes full of pain.
No. I swallow hard and lift the glass, draining what’s left in one go. I stand and walk down the hall toward the bedroom. Adriana is standing beside the bed in a silk robe when I enter, hair loose, expression wary.
“Jude?” she asks, noting the severity of my gaze. “Are you—”
I don’t let her finish. I cross the room in two strides and grab her, my hands firm on her waist as I kiss her hard enough that she gasps. It’s not a kiss of passion. It’s anerasure. Surprise flickers across her face when she pulls back.
“Wait,” she says, pushing me away. “You’re—are you okay?”
She’s worried.
The thought is almost fucking funny.
I kiss her again before she can say anything else, pressing her back against the wall beside the window. The cool glass presses against her shoulder. Her breath stutters into my mouth, a shaky rhythm against my own. My head is loud, frantic, a swarm of static and memories I’m forcing away.
Forget her. Forget her. Forget her.
I don’t feel tenderness, attraction, or even guilt. I feel nothing but the need to make the thoughts stop, to replace them with sensation, withthis. Her hands slide into my hair, her fingers tangling. But I feel her hesitate for half a second, her body rigid against mine.
Then she gives in.
Her mouth opens. Her kiss turns hungry, matching my force like she’s trying to reach me through it. I pull her from the wall and shove her onto the bed. The robe falls open. I don’t slow down.
I don’t want to think.
I settle between her legs, forcing them apart. I rip my shirt over my head and toss it aside. Her eyes rake over me, concerned. She raises her hand to my face, but I catch her wrist and pin it beside her head.
“Don’t,” I growl.
She freezes, her gaze narrowing on me for a quiet moment. My hand slides down between us, and when my fingers begin working, her head falls back.
I watch her face as I touch her. Watch the exact moment control slips. Her breathing shudders, sharp gasps filling the room. Her body responds even when her mind seems uncertain about my mood. She’s a beautiful woman.
And I feel nothing.
It’s crazy that I can stare at a woman unraveling so completely in my grasp and feel nothing. Most men would gladly fall to their knees and even crawl for a woman like her. But not me.
Because she’s nother.
She will never beher.
But I can never have her again.
I kiss Adriana because I want sensation, not meaning. I’ve experienced so much goddamn pain and trauma over the years thatanyamount of physical pleasure is welcomed. I’m fucking drowning, reaching out for a branch to keep my head above water. Drugs, skin, alcohol...I don’t give a damn anymore. I want the mindless, pounding rhythm of it. I want tofuckuntil I can’t think. Drink until I can’t speak. And inject until my veins give out. Do I hate myself for it? Absolutely. I want to rip myselfapart for touching someone who isn’ther. But I need something,anythingto take away the shit I’ve been forced to endure here. I can’t feel guilt, because…
I can never have her again.
I focus on my breathing to avoid thinking about the woman I love too much.
Adriana’s hips move against my hand, and I match the rhythm, watching her come apart beneath me with a blank expression. There’s no admiration in the way I’m looking at her. I’m just a cold, emotionless statue. Her release shakes her body, and I don’t stop.
The rational voice in my headscreamsthat this is the line. I ignore it. My chest aches in a waynothingcan touch. I shut my eyes, jaw clenched, and fumble with my belt. The metallic click is too loud, almost highlighting the reality of what I’m about to do.
Forget her. Forget her. Forget her.
Her eyes squeeze shut when I finally bury myself inside her. I’m holding myself up on my arms, muscles straining, watching her face. I’m not gentle. My body won’t let me. I’ve hate-fucked her so much over the years. And I suppose that’s more of what this is. Just using her for an outlet for my fucking rage and to remind myself that things can still feel good. My ability to feel is being robbed from me, day by day. I need this, even if I don’t want it. Even if I hate myself for it. Even if it makes me want to fucking die.
Her moans turn into broken sobs. I’m an animal now. Nothing more.
