Alex nuzzled my neck, lips brushing my skin. “You want to get out of here? Go find somewhere quieter?” His hand trembled just a little. It thrilled me, the power to make someone want me, to be the center of someone else’s hunger.
I felt Caiden’s eyes like a knife in the dark. He took a long pull from his beer, then scoffed, voice rough and careless. “Bet you think you’re the first, huh? She likes to be wanted. Don’t flatter yourself.”
The room went quiet for a heartbeat, then Shane laughed off the tension, calling Caiden an asshole, but the words hung there between us.
Alex stiffened beside me. He squeezed my thigh, more possessive than before. “Maybe I’m just the only one who knows what she needs.”
I let my head tip back, closing my eyes, letting the voices and the rain blur together. My skin burned.
But all I could feel was the ache. Alex’s safe touch, Caiden’s dangerous stare, the storm outside, and the storm inside me. And I knew, no matter how hard I tried, I’d always be drawn back to the dark.
I felt the need to escape before I unraveled completely. I mumbled something about needing the bathroom and stood, steadying myself as the room wobbled around the edges.
Alex’s hand slipped reluctantly from my thigh, his breath warm against my hip as I passed.
The hallway was dim and empty, only the pulse of the music and the storm pressing at the windows. I caught my reflection in the dark glass. A girl blurred at the edges. I pressed my palms to the cool sink, trying to catch my breath, but my skin buzzed hotter with every second.
As I opened the door to leave, Caiden was there. A wall of heat and shadow, eyes black and bottomless.
He crowded me back into the narrow space between the wall and the door, his hand slamming the door shut behind me.
The thunder outside cracked, and the house shivered with the force of it. My heart kicked up, dizzy from the vodka, dizzy from him.
He pinned me, rough and sure, his hand sliding up to cradle my jaw, thumb dragging across my cheek. His body pressed into mine, hard enough to bruise, his breath thick with anger and hunger.
“You like putting on a show for him?” he slurred, voice low, dangerous, each word scraping raw inside me. “Letting him touch you like that?”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I whispered, but my voice was weak.
His thigh forced my legs apart, his knee wedged between mine, pinning me helplessly against him. “You want it to be him?” His mouth hovered at my ear, the heat of his words boiling through me. “Or do you want it to be me?”
I hated how badly I wanted him, wanted to be ruined by his hands, wanted to carve this ache into my bones so I could feel something that lasted. “I don’t know what I want,” I managed, voice ragged.
He laughed, but it was a mean sound, his fingers digging into my jaw, tilting my face up until I was forced to meet his eyes.“Liar. You know exactly what you want.” He pressed closer, hips grinding into mine, every inch of him burning, possessive, desperate. “You want to be owned. You want to be marked so no one else even tries.”
A shudder ran through me. I could have screamed, could have pushed him away, but I didn’t. I let him see my fear, my hunger, my shame.
He bent and kissed me, stealing what little breath I had left. His hand slid under my dress, fingers rough and sure, mapping the heat between my thighs. He teased me through the thin fabric, making me squirm, making me beg with every whimper that slipped past my lips.
“Say it,” he ordered, voice dark velvet, all command and ache. “Tell me you want my hands. Tell me to ruin you.”
I wanted to resist, wanted to pretend I could say no, but my body betrayed me. I arched into him, my mouth finding his.
My skin prickled, every nerve tuned to his darkness. I wanted to say I didn’t want it, that I hated him for making me feel like this, but the truth trembled on my tongue: I wanted to drown in the tide of his jealousy, wanted the thunder of him to drown out the old ghosts.
His forehead pressed to mine, his breath shaking. “He doesn’t see you, not really. Not the way I do.”
The music from the living room was muffled, but I could hear the pulse of it. I felt untethered, slipping beneath the surface, swept into the undertow of everything I’d tried to bury.
He pressed closer, and I melted, my resolve gone, my body betraying me. His hand tightened in my hair, his thumb brushing my cheek as if he could memorize the shape of my ache.
“I hate wanting you,” he breathed, words rough and desperate against my lips. “But I can’t stop. I see you letting himin, and all I want is to tear him apart. All I want is to make you mine until you forget the rest of the world exists.”
I clawed at him, nails raking down his back, needing him to feel it. To know I could hurt him too.
But Caiden was always fire. I burned for him, burned with him. We’d both go up in smoke.
He caught my wrist, fingers digging bruises, and dropped my hand straight to his jeans. Even drunk, even wild, his cock was hard beneath the denim. Pure demand, all for me.
