“I know.”
“But for what it’s worth, it was… good. Fun.”
“Yeah.”
“But I can’t now. I don’t… I can’t… I have to hate you.”
His words feel like knives, but I nod. “You don’t have to hate me. I understand, but you don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I do, or I’ll—” He cuts himself off abruptly, rising off the bed and walking over to me. He kneels between my knees, his hands resting on my thighs. “This is so wrong. All of it. You’re a…”
“I know what I am, Bouche.” I push his hands away out of self-preservation. I can’t look into these beautiful, tortured eyes and not want to kiss it all away. “I wish it could be different, but I am what I am.”
“And you like it? It makes you happy?” His voice is tense now, angry. “You have no moral problem killing people?”
“No, I don’t.” I get to my feet as my own anger rises. “You can sit there and judge me all you want. I don’t have any control over what you think of me, but I’m not gonna apologize for being who I am. You may think it’s wrong, evil, disgusting even, but I serve a purpose in this cold, ugly, dark world, whether you like it or not.”
“Don’t stand there acting like you’re Mother fucking Teresa, okay? Serve a purpose? Really?”
“Most of the time, yes.”
“But not all the time. How many innocent people do you think have died by your hand? Or your brothers’? Have you ever considered that?”
“Fuck you, Bouche. If these people weren’t fucking around and getting involved in bad shit, I would never meet them. Your brother might’ve had good intentions, but he still chose to blackmail a dangerous fucking criminal. It’s not like I was walking down the street one day and picked him out of a crowd.”
Bouche narrows his eyes and I know my words hit a nerve. “He doesn’t deserve to die.”
“I’m not the fucking judge and jury of souls. If anything, you’re fucking lucky I was assigned to him. Anyone else and this would already be a done deal. I just happened to get distracted by a pretty fucking face and good dick.”
He scoffs. “That’s what I am to you? A pretty face and good dick?”
“What do you want me to say? That I’m in love with you? Get fucked, man. We’ve known each other for a few weeks.”
He nods, still glaring at me. “Yeah, you’re right. It was just easy dick. No connection, no attraction beyond the physical. Just fucking.”
Frustration builds in me. “I don’t understand what’s happening right now. You told me you have to hate me and nothing else will ever happen between us, but now… what? You want me to admit that there was something else going on between us?”
“It was starting to!” he yells, slamming his hand on the dresser. “Fuck you, Wraith. I know you felt it too. I fucking know you did.”
“And what if I did?! What fucking difference does it make now? You hate me, right?” I cross the room, getting up in his face. “And don’t forget what I am. You could never accept me from your high fucking hockey tower.”
“Fuck you.” Bouche shoves me hard, but I catch myself before I stumble.
Rushing forward, I grab his collar and shove him back. “Fuckyou.”
He takes a swing and he’s too fast for me to block it. His fist lands across my jaw, sending me backward, and he doesn’t stop. Bouche charges me, but I’m ready this time. I catch his cheekbone with a punch, but he’s got a few pounds of muscle on me and is hardly fazed.
Bouche tackles me to the bed, wrestling me and pinning my arms to the mattress. I knew he was strong, but fuck me, he’s got me completely overpowered. I struggle beneath him, quickly becoming aware of his cock swelling as we rub together.
His eyes heat, and in seconds, our mouths are crashing together, our tongues tangling in a battle for dominance. Bouche keeps my arms pinned as he humps into me, and a small moan escapes my lips. He gobbles up every sound I make as we kiss and grind.
I need relief, and I want to touch him. “Bouche,” I whisper.
“Shut up,” he grunts, reaching between us to unzip my jeans. “I fucking hate you for making me feel this way.”
But he doesn’t hate me. I know that. This is way more than physical attraction growing between us, and if that isn’t the most fucked-up thing that’s ever happened to me, I don’t know what is. I can’t have this. I don’t get to keep him. In fact, I better enjoythis because I seriously doubt I’ll ever get another taste once he comes to his senses.
Bouche shoves his hand into my jeans, stroking my dick, and I desperately want to be naked with him. “Gonna fuck you,” he grunts. “You’re gonna take it.”
