Page 44 of Tormented
No rubbing, not even a slight squeeze. He just places it against my flesh as though I’m a wild animal he’s trying to earn the trust of.
In a way, I guess I am.
“It still doesn’t change the fact that dredging up the past doesn’t help my future.”
He shakes his head slowly, mouth turned up on one side. “But it does.” A fire ignites in his eyes, and for a second I come to believe that it’s not him, but the devil in his head that looks back at me.
I draw steady deep breaths, reminding myself of how calm I felt mere moments before as his thumb tracks over my cheek. My lips suddenly feel dry, and I wet them with the tip of my tongue. Sawyer’s gaze falls to the movement, and something flips. His previously lax hand goes rigid, almost painful as he takes hold of my neck, his thumb at the pressure point of my jaw.
My heart races, my muscles on fire.
“I don’t know how to take it slow,” he says, as though it’s an apology for what he does next.
The back of my head slams into the chair as he lunges forward, his massive weight crushing me the same as his mouth does mine. I can’t deal. It’s too much. There’s too much of him on me and I feel as though I’m going to implode. But deep down inside, somewhere in the empty chambers of my heart, I know this is what I need.
I’ve avoided the triggers to my past, escaped the things that’ll spiral me back ten or even fifteen years for too long.
It’s time I faced those demons head-on and showed them I’m not afraid to fight any longer.
He widens his mouth, accepting my tongue as I tilt my head and deepen the kiss. His free hand shoves painfully behind my back, and with a jerk, he slides me down the chair so my body is even more aligned with his. There’s no denying how I affect him, not when the evidence is painfully pressed into my thigh.
“You say one thing with your mouth,” he whispers, laying a gentle kiss on my nose, “but your body tells me the truth.”
“My body is a liar,” I say, placing both palms against his chest awkwardly.
“Nope.” He chuckles, arching his back to he can press his forehead to mine. “Your body knows the truth. It’s your head and your heart that are at war.”
“You can’t fix me.”
“I don’t want to.”
He grinds his hips against me, and like the harlot I am, I moan.
“What do you want then?” I tilt my head to the side so he can press a kiss to my neck.
I shiver when his tongue traces a path to my ear instead.
“I want your jagged edges to match mine. I want to combine our dark and ugly hearts into something unbreakable.”
“I’ll never be your match.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to accept that this is who I am, yet you already have.”
“Because I know there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He drags his bottom lip over mine, sucking it between his teeth to hold the flesh captive as he talks. “Let go.”
My most intimate parts ache, my nipples hard. I know what my body wants—I simply refuse to give in. Because if I agree to what he’s telling me, that he really does accept me as I am, then I have nothing left to hate. Nothing left to be resentful for. And without that, what am I? Who’s left?
I don’t know who I am without my anger.
“I can’t,” I say, pushing with my hands. “I can’t start this.”
“You started it a long time ago, Abbey.” His grip hardens.
“Let me go.”
“No.”