Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Well, you never know.” I gave her one last tug, and then we were at my door, going into the house, and I was shutting it behind us, pressing her up against it.
I looked into her big blue eyes and said my truth then.
Said what I should have said months ago.
I cupped her face, my forehead touching hers as my thumbs flicked her bottom lip. “I need you.”
Her little gasp was all the invitation I needed as I pressed my body against hers, and then my mouth, sliding my tongue past any protest she may have had.
And taking.
Stealing.
Keeping.
“Mine,” I whispered. “Mine.”
I pushed my hands under shirt and then very slowly ran my fingertips down her sides, breasts, nipples. My tongue lined the outside of her ear, and I held her close and murmured, “I’ll stop when you can’t take it anymore, and then… you get your present.”
“This isn’t it?”
A dark chuckle was the only answer I offered.
“You don’t have to, you know…” she whispered. “You don’t owe me anything—”
I pinched her nipple, and she threaded her finger into my hair then tugged.
“You still don’t get it. I want you. I need you.” I studied her eyes, looking for… I didn’t know what. Because I was terrified she would tell me no.
She searched my gaze; it was like she was raking through the mess that was my soul like she would know all my secrets.
I didn’t care.
“Then take me,” she murmured.
She didn’t have to say it twice.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“No one gets out of here alive.” —Jim Morrison
Annie
He was claiming me.
Kissing me.
Hands in my hair, mouth sliding against mine, his lips massaging gently, beckoning me to open.
And I hated it.
I hated all of it.
Because he was being gentle on purpose—as if that was what I wanted.
I hated myself now too, because I should be jumping for joy, but instead, I wanted to slap him across the face and ask him to treat me like—like he had.
As if I was Claire’s ghost.
Oh, God.
Sick to my stomach, I pulled back. “Ash…”
His eyes flickered to my swollen mouth and then back up again, and something shifted.
“You don’t want this.” He stumbled back.
“I want this. I just don’t want it like this,” I said stupidly.
His grin was almost cruel again like I’d offended him, which I probably had. “Then how do you want it, perfect little princess? It’s cute that you think this is really up to you, that you get a say.”
I glared. “Amazing, is this your first time getting turned down?”
“Is this your first time getting turned on?” he countered.
“You’re an asshole!”
“And you’re a fucking liar!”
My hand went flying. He caught it midair and flipped me around, pinning my chest against the wall, his body pressing me there, his breath hot on my neck. “If I remember correctly.” He had both hands prisoner above my head, while his other hand cupped my ass and squeezed.
I let out a little gasp, my body bucking against him.
“Sensitive.” His chuckle was dark perfection.
My body shuddered.
“Run,” he whispered in my ear before tugging it with his teeth. A sharp pain sliced through my skin as his nose trailed down my neck. “Run, but remember… finders keepers.”
“Ash—”
“Annie.”
“I don’t think—”
“Ten, nine, eight—”
“Crap! Ash, let me explain. I just meant that—”
“Seven.” He gripped my ass again and then pulled away, leaving me still straining back toward him. “Six.”
Slowly I turned.
His gaze raged.
His posture was rigid.
His jaw clenched.
This was Ash.
This was my Ash.
This was what I needed.
What he craved.
“Five.” His eyes flashed.
And I ran.
I missed the doorknob about seventeen times, and then I was running as thunder sounded overhead. Rain started to pour from the one dark cloud? Really?
I nearly slipped as I sprinted around the pool.
Four.
Three.
Two.
I knew he was coming.
Could feel him at my back.
Was too afraid to look over my shoulder.
And then I was tackled into the soft grass near the hammock.
“Down we go…” He didn’t give me any time to process what he was doing as he slid my dress up past my hips then hooked my legs around his neck.
Anyone could see us.
Anyone!
His smile was possessed as a rough hand slid up my thigh, jerking my legs apart harder, exposing me to him before deft fingers ripped my underwear.
Rain poured.
His chest heaved as water dripped from his jaw down onto my body.
I lifted my chin in defiance.
And then he lowered his head in reverence.
Followed by worship.
His tongue was hot against my skin, almost too hot as he spread me wide.
And partook.
My body shook as memories of that night flooded my vision like the very raindrops cascading down both of our bodies, cleansing us from the inside out.
Maybe the rain was washing away my one unholy act of taking what wasn’t mine to take, for giving a gift that wasn’t mine to give.
I had sinned.
My loneliness was my punishment.
And his tongue was my jailer.