mind registers is him, much to my annoyance. His eyes narrow on me, as if he knows what’s going on in my head, then he runs his calloused thumb over my bottom lip, making me gasp with wanton need. Then the next thing, the air was too thick for either one of us to breathe.
I still want him. Even after what happened out there, I still want him.
But he doesn’t want me.
“Get out.” I whisper-cry.
Angry eyes met mine, but I look away. I knew he wanted to say something cruel, but he just locked his jaw and left me to stew in my self-hatred and lust for him.
I stay in my bed and hate the rest of the world like it’s the reason why I’m not wanted. When you find out you’ve been a charity case right from the start, it does more than just sting your high-quality pride like the one I have. It demolishes it.
I don’t know what time it is when I creep up the private stairs, something unknown, dark and sinister beating at my chest as I go.
I know I should go back to my room. I know this is a bad idea, but when I try his door, it opens just as easily as it did the first time.
He’s seating on his bed, completely naked. I guess he sleeps in his birthday suit. When I step through the threshold, he doesn’t react. He’s not shocked to see me standing there in nothing more than my skimpy sleep shorts and shirt, my hugging my shivering body, tears running down my face.
Instead, he gets up in all his naked glory, walks over to me, holding my devasted gaze with his intense, solid one. For a moment I think he’s going to throw me out, but when he reaches me, he closes the door behind me, then like a frightened child or a bride, he lifts me up in his arms and takes me to his bed.
I can’t look away from him. I can’t allow myself to feel anything else other than his silent strength and comfort.
Pulling back his covers, I look at him and decide to respect his bed. So, I sit up straight and strip down to my own birthday suit. I’m wet and my pussy is throbbing. I can see the answering arousal in his eyes and his dick is hard against my thigh.
“Baby…” he gruffly says, and I shake my head. I want that, but not tonight.
“Just hold me, Julian.”
So, he does.
We’re connected skin to skin. There isn’t a part of my body that he doesn’t caress and pat, like a lion in its prime, grooming me so sensual.
Then, we’re kissing. He hovers over me while I’m flat on my back, feeding me his taste that mixes with the saltiness of my tears. I feel so lost and empty sure, but when he stares down at me like I’m a sight to behold or like he can’t believe I’m in his bed, I feel so hot, my blood simmers.
He kisses me until I’m so wound up, I grind and hump against his thigh a few times and come with a strangled scream that he lets me have without covering it with a kiss.
When I want him to fuck me, he presses a kiss to my forehead and whispers, “You’re not ready for me,” in my ear, then he leaves.
The next thing I know, the shower’s running in the bathroom and I’m so frustrated, I can’t move.
But when he comes back, he tucks me on my side, then he spoons me, sheltering me, in the eye of my storm.
And now, it’s Monday. It’s graduation week at Clintwood and at St. Jude High and I’m just so…numb.
“Which one of your faces will you be wearing today?” Liam hollers from his ‘favorite’ kitchen stool, a big bowl of Fruit Loops in front of him. I spin around and pin him with a hard glare that only makes him smile, his eyes glinting with evil mirth.
The gorgeous fool gets on my nerves, and he loves that, but even when he annoys me to death, he’s got nothing on his brooding older brother. Liam studies me from the top of my hair, to my heels, tilting his head to the left.
“What’s your problem?” I snap, folding my arms, getting ready for a confrontation.
“Something’s up with you,” he murmurs, observing me like he’s trying to figure something out as he waves his spoon in circles at me.
“Well, everything’s up with