Not him.
No.
“Go away. Leave me alone. All of you, leave me alone.” I don’t want him here. I don’t want to feel him. I don’t want anything from him. It hurts. Hehurts me.
“You can fight all you want, but I’m not going anywhere. No chance, Goldilocks,” he growls, dangerously calm, which only enrages me more.
His scent and presence overwhelm me completely. I’m electrified.
I want him. I don’t want him.
“I hate you. I hate you so much,” I hiss, and my blood boils. I want to hurt him. Want him to suffer like I am.
My breathing is ragged, and I feel his breath on my face. His eyes lock onto mine, and I drown in them, dragging him down with me. Desire, raw and unfiltered, flares there just like pain.
Suffering. I want him to suffer.
A tear runs down my cheek as he answers, “I know. Damn it, I know.” And his lips crash onto mine. Not gently. Not tenderly. No. We’re a storm, a tornado tearing everything down.
I bite his lower lip, tasting the blood as he groans. That sound ripples through me to my core, and I press myself closer against him.
He tastes like freedom, like life, and I hate it. My heart races, and though I don’t want him, I want him closer. I clutch his hair as he lets go of my hands and lifts me up. My legs wrap around his hips, and my back crashes against the wall once more.
Doesn’t matter. Closer. More.
His tongue dances with mine. He devours me, and I devour him. It hurts, and it keeps me alive.
My hips press against his, and I feel him, want to get rid of this pressure, this craving between my legs. He feels it, his hand pulls me tighter to him so I can grind against him. And, oh God, my body catches fire. It tingles and I moan into his mouth. Thousands of butterflies erupt in my stomach. At the same time, a thousand needles prick my skin, slice into it, dig beneath, and I want more. Always more.
Nic gives me what I want as his rough hand glides up my thigh. Eagerly strokes over my skin, making me tremble all over. He traces my lower lip with his tongue, and when his hand reaches its goal, he pushes my panties aside. His fingers slide over my hot, wet flesh.
A whimper escapes me, and I press into his hand. Want to extend this intoxicating feeling, this high.
More. I want more.
“Hmm, so wet for me, Goldilocks. So greedy,” he hums against my lips, catching my moans as he slides two fingers inside me. As he starts to thrust them in, slowly but deliberately.
God. It feels so good.
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
My legs tighten around him, and I’m lost in a haze. “Harder. Please. I… Please,” I beg incoherently, and he chuckles softly before kissing me again. Before his thumb circles my clit, teasing it. Before he thrusts harder. I fly, I fall, I’m free.
Nic groans as I clench tightly around his fingers and climax so hard I feel dizzy. “Fuck,” he curses hoarsely and rests his forehead against mine. Our breaths are heavy as he slowly withdraws his fingers. As the haze and fog begin to leave my brain. As I feel the cold wall of the crypt against my back again. And as the cruel reality hits like a bomb.
I let Nicolas, Prince of Harlington, finger me at his brother’s grave. My dead friend’s grave.
My stomach twists instantly as a tsunami of regret crashes over me and I feel unbearably sick. Nicolas notices the change right away and leans back slightly, his piercing gray eyes fixed on me, but I can’t meet his gaze. I turn away instead and gently but firmly push him off.
His face goes expressionless in an instant, and his eyes turn cold and hard. And it’s my fault. “So, this is the part where you tell me never to touch you like that again?” His question is fair, but it hits me like a freight train.
Wrong. All of this is wrong.
But Nicolas didn’t do anything wrong this time. I was the one who made the mistake. My hands clench into fists, and I have to stifle a hiss. My gaze drops to my knuckles, and I realize with shock how far I’ve lost control. The pressure on my chest becomes unbearable.
“I… that… no… I’m… I’m sorry,” I stammer, overwhelmed, then give in to my flight instinct. I step aside, nearly tripping over my own feet, and run. I don’t look back as tears stream endlessly down my face.
“Dude, what’s going on with you today? You haven’t ridden that aggressively in ages.” Ced brought his bike to a stop next to me and flipped up his visor, his blue eyes sizing me up.
