Bastards and Scapegoats (Twisted Legacy Duet #1) - CoraLee June Page 0,61

ass and pulled me closer, his movements slow and tentative. I’d never experienced this side of Hamilton. It was like something now was holding him back. I didn’t understand it. Was he uninterested now because there wasn’t a chase? Did he only like things that run?

“I’m going to get that coffee and shower. I want you, Vera, but not while my dick smells like airport. And you need to rest. I came here to take care of you.”

I pulled away, my eyes heavy as I licked my lips. “And why is that? If you’re as selfish and detached as you claim, why are you here?” I boldly questioned him.

He let out a sigh and averted his dark gaze from mine. “I don’t know.”

He finally pushed away from me and went to make himself a pot of coffee. I watched his back, with Little Mama at my feet as he went through my cabinets, searching for coffee filters. “I’m going to try and sleep,” I whispered. We weren’t going to get anywhere at this time. He was here, though. He was really here. That had to mean something. All of this had to mean fucking something.

“Good. You look like shit, Vera. Seriously. You need some rest.”

I rolled my eyes. “Keys are hanging by the door if you leave. The couch pulls out into a bed.”

I padded away from him and to my door, pausing when I heard him curse under his breath. I turned to see what had him worked up and frowned when he pulled out his cell phone and angrily answered it.

“Stop calling me. I’m done.” He ended the call and slammed his palm down on the counter.

What the fuck was that about?

I couldn’t sleep. My phone kept going off with texts from my mother, and knowing Hamilton was in my apartment but so emotionally distant created a dissonance in my mind. There was so much against us. Our families. Public opinion. My desire to do right by my mom. His own issues with relationships. At first, it was easy to put him into a category of chemistry and physical needs. It’s easy to justify something if it’s just carnal acts to get off to.

But he showed up today. He kept showing up.

I heard my door open. My heart raced. The mattress dipped beside me. Warmth slipped under the duvet covers, and strong arms wrapped around me. “You done pretending to be asleep?” Hamilton asked. He smelled like my citrus shower gel. It was oddly feminine on his impossibly masculine body.

“Are you done pretending you’re selfish and that this is only fucking?” I asked.

“Oh, so we’re fucking now?” Hamilton asked in a whisper, his lips hovering over my ear as he shifted his hand and moved to cup my breasts. I let out a gasp when he pinched my nipple and lightly twisted it. Arching my back, I pressed my ass against his groin.

“You know what I mean,” I choked out.

“I don’t think I do, Petal. Tell me.”

I reached behind me and grabbed his hard cock through his sweats. His bare chest pressed harder against my back as he let out a startled hiss as my long fingers wrapped around his girth. I felt powerful in that moment. I had him by the dick. “We have chemistry,” I said before stroking him. He continued to knead my breast while kissing my neck. “I want you, Hamilton. We could fuck right now. Get the tension out of the air and go back to living our individual lives.”

He stopped kissing me and grabbed my wrist, pulling me away from his hard cock. I waited for him to say something, but instead, he flipped me on my back and straddled me. I looked up at his sharp expression, like a knife cutting through the tension. He grabbed both my wrists and pinned them to the mattress above my head. “You think we can just fuck each other out of our systems, Petal?” he asked, his voice a dangerous, low timbre.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

He leaned over and scraped his teeth along my collarbone. “Why do we have to be anything, hmm?”

“Because I could very well lose my only family if we cross this line.”

“So, what? You want me to fuck you and leave?”

“I want you to be worth it, Hamilton,” I whispered. He stalled and shot up to stare at me.

“You don’t think I’m worth it?” There it was. The crack. The break. The thing that kept Hamilton trying. That tragic need