I could break us both so we could finally walk away without constantly looking back.
“God, you taste amazing.” His tongue lashed against my throat, his arms banded tight around me.
For someone saying no, his body screamed yes.
I wriggled against him, rocking my hips into his. “You know as well as I do that we’re powerless against each other.”
He groaned, his hips answering mine with a slow, heavy grind that sent heat and wetness between my legs. “I’ll always be powerless when it comes to you.”
“That’s why we’re not good for one another.”
“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” His fingers latched onto my hipbones, jerking me harder against his erection. He winced a little from his still tender wound. “I’ve never wanted anyone else but you. Never loved anyone else—”
“Stop.” I cupped his cheeks, yanking his lips down to mine.
He growled low in his throat as I kissed him, stealing from him, all while offering him to take. This was war. This was a white flag of surrender even while I desperately tried to survive.
His tongue plunged deep; his body crowded mine. We rocked and clawed, slipping down the slippery slope of foggy desire.
Our lips crashed, teeth clacked, tongues danced a fiery battle.
Our bodies understood the goal, rocking and thrusting, seeking space to join.
I was too far gone to care.
Too drunk on lust to worry about consequences.
Too stressed and spiteful to stop trying to hurt both of us, all because I wasn’t strong enough to admit that there would never be anyone else like him, never be another boy I loved so deeply.
“Fuck me, Gil.” I kissed and licked him. “I need you.”
“Don’t do this, O.” He growled again, ripping his lips away and ducking to suck my nipple into his mouth. “I want to talk. This isn’t what I came here for.”
His voice said no. His touch already agreed.
My head fell back as he branded me with his teeth.
I clutched his head to my chest, crying out as he bit harder; he suckled, making wetness gush between my legs. “Finish it, Gil. We need to finish this.”
“I want to save this.” His hand dove between my legs, finding me drenched. “Goddammit, O. We can figure out a way to fix this.”
Yes, my heart screamed.
No, my mind cautioned.
I embraced sex to protect myself.
“It’s over, Gil. It has to be.”
“Don’t fucking say that. It’s not.” Even as he begged, he shoved my night shorts down and plunged two fingers inside me. “Don’t ask me to give you up.”
“God.” I buckled in his arms, my hips thrusting forward unashamedly.
“Fuck, you’re driving me insane.” His fingers pulsed inside me; his gaze shot black with need. “You’re pushing me too far.” His eyes closed tight, his brow furrowed and lips thin. “I’m losing control. I won’t be responsible for—”
“For fucking me?” I licked my lips, moaning as his fingers dove deeper. “I want you to. I need you to.”
“And I need to earn your forgiveness. Not fuck you like you mean nothing.”
That sounded delicious to my current delirious state.
I didn’t want sonnets or softness.
I wanted fast and brutal.
I need this over.
“Do it. Please.” I clawed at his shoulders, not caring I was naked and he was fully dressed. My eyes hazed as my hands dropped down his front and unbuckled his jeans. “Gil...”
“O.” He snarled as I shoved the denim down along with his boxer-briefs. “Fuck, stop.”
His cock leapt out and I pumped him.
His back bowed. His legs buckled. He drove his fingers deep inside me. “Goddammit.” His forehead crushed on mine, both of us stroking the other, punishing the other. “I’ll never be free of you.” He thrust into my hand as his fingers rocked against my G-spot.
“Me either.” I trembled, moaning, “And that’s the problem.”
“That’s our curse.”
I arched up to kiss him. “I don’t have the strength anymore.”
His lips slammed down to kiss me. “I never had the strength.”
Our tongues knotted.
Our bodies battled.
And he lost.
I lost.
We destroyed each other with a violent kind of lust that incinerated right and wrong, past and present.
All I wanted was him.
All he needed was me.
Sex.
The rawest link that could come with the strongest of love or the most painful of hate.
Gil had suffered both.
His body had been used against him. My heart had been used against me.
I was in the wrong to do this, but he followed me into despair because that was all our future held. Despair and complication.
Our kiss turned far too hungry.
Our patience snapped.
“Fuck, O.” Breathing hard, he tore his fingers out of me. “You’re trying to make me hate you. But you’re only making me want you more.” He hauled me up, imprisoning me against the cupboards. “You’re it for me. Always were.” The tip of his cock nudged my entrance.
I sucked in a breath as he swallowed a curse. Pain etched his features, his healing side adding another element of torture.
Our eyes locked and held.
Glowing and wild. Hungry and hurting.
“You’re mine. You always will be.” His voice sucked shadows from the room, a vow of irrefutable possessiveness.
And then, he thrust.
One.
Thick.
Long.
Blistering thrust.
One second, we were separate, the next, we were joined.
We froze.
Panting and moaning, stripped to our most basic core.
We looked at each other as if we couldn’t quite believe what’d happened. Shaking against the crack of our hearts and the thunder of our souls.
Every joining felt like this.
Like the earth shattered and the skies cried and the only place we belonged was with each other.
He was right.
We are a curse.
Softness slipped between our passion, covering me with goosebumps and the poems I hadn’t wanted. His gaze whispered that he would never let me go, even though he would always do what I asked. His cock throbbed with fury that I belonged to him, even while he accepted that he’d lost me.
All of that emotion. All of that pain.
It punched us in the chest and we buckled beneath it.
His hips rocked.
He broke the spell.
And I was immensely grateful.
Clinging to his shoulders, I bowed into his control.
And he began to move.
To fuck me.
To eradicate the agonising moment we’d shared.
His mouth captured mine, his hands held me prisoner, his hips were the polar opposite of his lovesick gaze, punishing me, pistoning quick and deep inside.
Wordlessly, he fucked me exactly like I wanted.
He ignored his injury and showed no mercy.
He treated me with no kindness.
The countertop wedged into my spine.
My breasts bounced.
My core clenched.
And an orgasm spindled out of nowhere.
I kissed him violently.
He kissed me brokenly.
We rode each other as if the world would end in twenty-eight heartbeats.
I didn’t try to slow it down.
I didn’t nurse the idea that this was it.
That I’d made this happen because I wasn’t strong enough to hear his secrets after weeks of begging to know.
I was weak.
But this made me strong.
This is goodbye.
“More. Gil, more. More!” I dug my nails into his neck, riding him as he rode me, our skin sl
icked with sweat. Pain radiated in his eyes. Agony lived in his kisses. And the finality of farewell added a sharper, sinister flavour to our release.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
I exploded.
My insides ricocheted with broken bliss.
He roared into my mouth with fractured feeling.
We shivered and convulsed in each other’s arms.
And then, his phone rang.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
A sense of déjà vu struck me. Whenever something momentous happened between us, the phone always managed to ruin it.
At least this time, there was nothing to ruin.
I’d done that.
And it was over.
Gil winced as he pulled out of me, his cock glistening and angry. Hoisting his jeans up, he pressed a hand against his injured side, and ripped his phone from his back pocket. Breathing hard, his face lined with fear. “Shit.” Pressing accept, he held it to his ear, his eyes locking onto mine. “Justin. What’s up?” His breathing was tattered and torn.
The faint voice of Justin echoed in the silence.
Gil’s cum trickled down my inner thigh.
I made no move to dress. No move to hide.
“Okay, I’ll rush back straight away. Tell her I’m coming. I’ll be as fast as I can.” Gil hung up, shoving his phone where it belonged and buckling his belt. “I have to go.”
“I understand.”
“Olive woke up. She expected to see me but found Justin instead. She’s broken down and barricaded herself in her room crying.” He backed toward the door. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. Go to her. I hope she’s okay.”
“Will you be okay?” His eyes cast down my nakedness, focusing on the remnants of the explosive, hurried sex we’d shared.
I nodded, forcing a smile. “I’ll be fine.”
Unlocking the door, he paused as he opened it. “I don’t feel right leaving you like this.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“But...this. What happened between us—”
“Was closure.”
He winced. “Closure? That wasn’t fucking closure, O. That was...I don’t know what that was.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Most of it was way too fast and sudden, and I feel guilty as fuck for taking you when we should’ve talked, but it’s far from over. We’re not done here. Not by a long shot.”
“We are. We have to be.”
He stalked toward me, his hands fisting by his sides. “And if I don’t want this to be over?”
I hugged my breasts, cursing the goosebumps covering me. “It’s already happened.”
“It hasn’t. Nothing’s happened apart from the realisation that I was wrong to stay away. I thought I was doing the right thing letting you walk out of my life, but fuck, it was totally the wrong thing. I’ll do whatever you need to make you trust in this, trust in me. I’m not going to quit, O. I’m going to fight to keep you—”
“I don’t belong to you, Gil.” I rested my hand on the door handle, growing weaker by the second.
This was what I wanted.
This was what I needed.
I needed him to fight for me.
To prove he cared above everything.
Above court dates and murder trials and a life he might have to abandon.
But just because I was cruel to need his undying declarations didn’t mean they’d throw me back into his arms.
He wasn’t mine.
He was Olive’s.
And soon he’d be locked out of my reach.
If we didn’t choose for this to end now, his prison sentence would do it for us.
His face waged battle between calm and furious. “I’ll come back. We’ll talk about this. Talk about everything.”
“No.” I locked my knees from trembling. His body still summoned mine. The crackle of electricity, the sharp serenade of desire. Even though we’d just had sex, the lust between us never died.
And that was why this had to end.
Now.
Here.
Forever.
Because...I couldn’t be his friend.
And I couldn’t be his lover.
Because I would give everything, over and over again, and I would never have enough left over for me.
He backed over the threshold. “I’ll come back. Once Olive is settled, I’ll come back and we can try this again.”
“I think it’s best if you didn’t.”
Frustration etched his face. “This isn’t over.”
“It has to be.”
“Stop saying that. It doesn’t have to be. If you feel anything for me then we can talk and—”
“I do feel something for you.” I allowed brutal truth to break us. “I love you, Gil.”
His eyes flared, he moved to touch me. “Then let me fucking fix this.”
I held up a hand, praying my voice stayed steady. “I love you, but I can’t be with you.”
“But—”
“Please...don’t make this any harder than it is.” I clutched the door, ready to close it. “It’s done. It’s over. We just ended it.”
“So...that’s it? You don’t want to know? You no longer care?”
I shook my head, fighting the sudden tsunami of tears. “I no longer want to know. I no longer care.”
Pain that I’d never witnessed burned deep in his gaze. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? For weeks you wouldn’t stop badgering me to tell you what I kept hidden, and now that I’m finally free to tell you everything, you suddenly have no interest to hear me out?”
I locked my fingers together, keeping my curiosity buried.
I wanted to know.
I wanted to know all of it.
But...if I knew, I wouldn’t have the power to put myself first. I would risk everything because I wouldn’t have the strength to walk away.
“I wanted to know so I could protect you.” I shrugged sadly. “Now, I don’t want to know to protect myself.”
Our gaze caught.
My heart hiccupped.
He froze as he finally heard what I said. Finally accepted what I wanted. “You truly mean it, don’t you?” His voice roughened. “You’ve had enough of me.”
“I’ve had enough of lies and deceit and feeling as if I’m cheating myself out of happiness by being too weak.”
“You were never weak.”
“You make me weak.”
He swayed on my doorstep. Anger and hurt blazed in his green gaze.
A loud beeping noise came from his ankle, dragging his attention to his foot.
He growled like a beast.
He nodded.
He stared at me one last time, trying to figure out a way to stop my stubbornness.
His ankle beeped again.
His shoulders fell. “If that’s what you want.” Looking at me one last time, he whispered, Goodbye, O.”
He turned and vanished down the staircase.
Chapter Eighteen
______________________________
Olin
A WEEK PASSED.
Every day, I struggled not to hand in my notice at work.
Every night, I struggled to sleep.
Every time I went into the kitchen, I stared at the spot where we’d had sex, and a wash of regret and relief filled me.
The regret was the hardest—full of tears and heartache and the overwhelming sensation that I’d made a massive mistake.
The relief was a gentle balm—doing its best to heal me and remind me I did the right thing.
I’d done the only thing.
No matter how hard it’d been.
But it did mean I could no longer stay here and postpone my decision.
The money my parents had deposited into my bank account remained untouched, even though my salary wasn’t enough to carry my weekly bills and pay off the debt I’d accumulated while looking after Olive.
I didn�
��t want to owe them anything, even though their funds would be greatly appreciated right about now.
They’d tried calling again two days ago. I’d ignored it, unable to discuss the latest news articles and the ever-growing unrest about Gil’s involvement in the body painting murders.
Maybe I’d go visit them on their travels.
Maybe I’d vanish like they had.
Either way, tonight, I had a plan.
Placing a spinach and feta pizza into the oven—unable to stop my mind from thinking of Gil calling Olive his little spinach—I carried my decrepit laptop to the dining room table and turned it on.
This time, I wasn’t looking at job sites.
Clicking on the website I’d found last week that compared international airfares and found the cheapest, I hovered my fingers over the keyboard.
Birmingham to...
I bit my lip.
Hong Kong?
Vietnam?
New Zealand?
America?
Where could I find a fresh start?
Where could my mind find peace from Gil?
I deliberated while my pizza cooked and made a list of pros and cons while I ate.
I finished two glasses of wine—very aware I had the potential of becoming an alcoholic if I kept up my alone-time drinking—and decided to let fate choose for me.
Fate had messed up my life, so perhaps, it could fix it too.
Clicking on the icon that listed last-minute sales, I held my breath as one for Brisbane, Australia popped up. Warm, friendly, lots of beaches, and tanned locals. They spoke English so I could get a job. The temperate weather would be good for my ruined back, and it was too far to rush home if I feared I’d made yet another mistake.
I inputted the parameters, chose a date two weeks in the future to give me time to end my lease, hand in my notice, and sell my few pieces of furniture, and pulled my tired and battered credit card from my purse.
I peered at the faded number.
My phone vibrated across the table.
Not again.
No.
I refused to let a phone destroy every big moment of my life.
I locked my attention back onto entering my credit card details.
It vibrated again.
And again.
God!
How was I supposed to move on if so many things kept yanking me back?
Snatching my phone, I swiped it on.
The Living Canvas (Master of Trickery, #2) Page 18
