Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Not like I want, anyway. I don’t know how much time passes, but it isn’t until my arms grow weak with exhaustion and the fight partially leaves me that he finally says something.
"Are you fucking done now?" His tone is granite, his jaw just as hard.
Am I done? Are you serious?
I stare down at him through a mop of coffee-colored hair, and then I slap him one more time for safe measure. "Am I done? You tell me to stop behaving like a child, but any time I don’t do what you want you throw a fit and lock me in a room or tie me to a bed.” I grit my teeth, feeling the heat of my actions on my cheeks. Sebastian looks distraught, a complete and utter mess, and shame coats my insides for how I’ve treated him. “I’m sorry for my behavior but you don't get to make decisions for me all the time. That's not what this is...we aren't even...together," I tell him, looking away.
"We aren't what?" he hisses, leaning forward and getting into my face.
I’m only briefly aware of our position, me straddling him, him gripping onto my hips. Even with the anger so evident in his eyes, I see how much he’s hiding from me. How much feeling he’s refusing to share with me. I can also feel his longing, the length of his hard cock that presses against my belly.
Shit. Damn it.
How did we get here?
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I try to move off of him, but his hold becomes impenetrable.
"Oh no, you don’t. I let you say your piece, and now you’re going to let me say mine.”
Oh no. Now that I feel him beneath me, really feel him, it's all I can think about, the anger from earlier twisting into something hotter, something sharper. I might be angry, but there’s no denying how much I want him. How much I need him.
Like a crazed man, he grabs me by the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him. Our faces are only a couple inches apart, and his hot breath fans against my lips. I want to kiss him, but I also want to punch him in that beautiful mouth.
"We are very much together. And I don’t care if you believe it or not, it’s fucking real in my eyes.”
I don't respond; I can’t. There is no response to that, not when all I can think about is his lips against mine, his cock sliding deep inside me. Huffing out a breath, I try to remind myself how bad he is for me, how wrong it is that we’re together, that he’s a killer and a liar, but none of those things seem to matter, and I’m tired of fighting. Tired of fighting against this man that I love.
Without warning, I lean forward and press my lips to his. This kiss shatters the safe little box I’ve put myself in. His lips on mine feel like how I imagine the first rays of sunlight feel as they fall onto the seed of a flower that's waited all winter long to grow. I want to grow, and I want him to be the thing that breathes life back into me.
He doesn't hesitate, meeting my kiss with an equally searing one. We’re teeth and lips, and it’s so intense tears behind my eyelids, but then his tongue slips into my mouth, and he strokes it against mine, and all I can do is moan into his mouth.
Pleasure consumes me, and while I kiss him and he kisses me back, I find myself grinding my heated core against his length, wishing it was inside me.
No need to wish, Elyse. He’s right here. Take what you need.
It's such a selfish thing to want, but I need this moment. To think about something other than death and how much I hate myself.
Breaking the kiss, I scramble backward on his lap, giving myself enough room to undo his belt. I reach for the button on his pants, and that’s when he grabs me by the wrists, his hard grip dragging my attention back to his face. His eyes are smoldering, revealing his own desire to fuck me, but beneath that lust is something softer, something that I can’t pinpoint.
"What did I say, Ely?"
The reminder of his words come back to me and I grit my teeth in frustration. He wants me to beg him. And I want him so badly that I’m almost okay with that.
I swallow, then look him in the eye and give him honesty. “Please…Sebastian. I need this. I need you inside of me right now. Fighting off the darkness, reminding me that I’m still alive, and that I’m more than what happened.” I look away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. I hate how vulnerable and raw that confession makes me feel.