Never His Girl (Kings of Cypress Prep #2) - Rachel Jonas Page 0,43
willing to go to some pretty drastic lengths to convince me, but… what if I let him inside my head and it blows up in my face again?
Yes, everything he’s saying sounds good, but I’ve been burned by him before.
He’s closer now and, without permission, he gently takes my waist. Instead of stopping him, I soak in that look he casts down on me, letting his green stare lower from my eyes, to my mouth, and finally to my breasts.
He’s so intense. The only thing that keeps me from burning up in his atmosphere is the slow breath I draw into my lungs. Being honest, I feel weak for him, but the hurt is still pinned to my flesh like a badge. One I’ll wear for however long it takes the wound to heal.
“Say it,” he groans, allowing the rawness in his voice to be heard. “Say you’re ready to let me show you it’s real.”
My head spins and, at first, I’m unsure what that means. A thousand different scenarios run through me, but none of those ended like this—with my feet being lifted off the ground. With West gripping my ass as he draws my body flush against his.
On instinct, my legs encircle his waist, and there’s no barrier between us where his once loosely tied robe has fallen open. Without letting me go, he slips it off one arm at a time, until he’s completely naked, and I feel him in ways I’ve tried to forget.
I hate that sadness is the prevailing thought in my head, but it is. Even more than I want him, I’m grieving the idea of letting this happen again.
What’s wrong with me?
Why can’t I just get him out of my damn system?
While I’m certain he doesn’t deserve me, there’s a piece of me that craves him and even I don’t understand it.
I’m addicted.
There’s no other explanation for what I fear I’m about to allow. No other reason I’d let a lavish hotel room, a few dozen roses, and a seemingly heartfelt speech get under my skin.
Not after what he did.
His lips are at least as hot and soft as I remember. They move against my mouth, but I don’t kiss him back. Not like I want to, anyway. I’m too angry I’m kissing him at all. Too angry my fingers are tangled in his hair. Too angry that I’m already wet for this ruthless bastard.
The hatred inside me bleeds from my pores and I’m only certain he feels it when he speaks again.
“I swear to you, Southside. I’m trying to fix it.”
This is the promise spoken against my ear. It’s whispered just before I feel his tongue against my neck, and then there’s the dizzying sensation of feverish sucking. I’m certain he’s leaving his mark, and I’m also sure that’s intentional.
He’ll fix it. That vow is one that should go in one ear and out the other, but instead, I want him to prove me wrong, want him to show me he means it.
He places me on the sheet and my robe’s already fallen off both shoulders. I slip out of it completely and there’s enough heat and tension in this room to suffocate. And as for what I’m feeling, I’m doused with equal parts hatred and need.
Both aimed straight at West, and he takes it all.
Staring down my body, my eyes land on him, where he stands naked at the foot of the bed. Every breath I take is ragged, labored. His chest moves rapidly, and I bite my lip until it aches, literally feeling his gaze as it lowers to my stomach. Half a second later, his hand lands there, moving over the piercing in my navel, then between my legs. Air rushes into my mouth, hissing through my teeth.
Why are you here?
Why are you doing this?
Why can’t you stay away and let me hate you in peace?
The mattress shifts when he climbs on top of me, kissing me so slow and deep my eyes roll back in my head. Both heels dig into the backs of his thighs, encouraging him to enter me, and I’m so far gone I don’t even consider protection. I’m never that impatient. But when West doesn’t budge, I assume this is the reason he’s hesitant.
Those powerful, inked arms of his keep him hovering above me, as our mouths move in perfect sync. As his tongue does a series of skilled pirouettes over mine that have my need for him surging even more.