Chapter 11 #2
With my body pressed to hers and our faces mere inches apart, we remain locked together.
I breathe in her breath, and she takes in mine.
I’m incapable of controlling the downward dart of my eyes to where her breasts are pressed against the wall of my chest. Gluttonous, hungry eyes study her, taking in the expanse of creamy, soft skin.
They crash shut as what transpired in the gathering room earlier flickers through my mind, making the blood in my veins heat.
My throat goes dry. She carries the evidence of that correction.
Inside her. She bears marks from hands, bruises from fighting back all over her body.
I want to lie her down on the crisp, damp grass and take away what we did to her.
I want to be with her again, but this time without the onlookers.
Don’t want anyone to tell me it’s wrong.
Don’t want to be punished for thoughts or actions.
But more than anything, I want Delilah to want the things we do to her.
Will she ever not hate me for my upbringing?
My cock hardens behind my zipper, weeping at the idea of having a woman who desires me, who doesn’t shy away from my touch.
Fuck my father. Fuck his rules and demands. Fuck the Collective.
Shaken to my core, I open my eyes and stare into hers.
She can’t possibly be aware of the path my thoughts have taken, yet her lips part and her chest hitches, a hard swallow working down the delicate column of her throat.
Her mouth hardly moves when she finally clarifies her earlier statement for me. “I heard what you said in the woods.”
It takes me a few seconds to realize what she’s referring to.
And we’re right back to where we were, her scowl quickly developing when I don’t immediately have anything to say.
I release a frustrated exhale and let my gaze bore into hers for a count of three before I let it track closer to the forest and into the darkness it holds.
“In case you forgot, I’ll remind you,” she whispers pointedly.
“You said you were looking forward to seeing how that disgusting man would—how did you put it?—oh yeah. Bring me to heel.” She clamps her lips shut and stares at me, furious indignation lighting her eyes.
“As if I were a dog to be controlled.” She’s so angry, tears have sprung to her eyes.
Why does that fight in her make my cock stiffen?
“Oh wait. That’s right. All the men in this compound think I’m just another bitch to manip—”
She never gets the remainder of her thought out.
In the blink of an eye, my mouth crashes over hers, and I press my body more firmly against her naked one.
Overcome by a base instinct, heat flames to life within my chest. While I grind my erection against her, I torture myself by nipping and licking at her lips, before pushing my tongue past them.
A lusty groan rips from my throat as I give in to the taste and texture of her and the way every little noise she makes has my body demanding things I shouldn’t allow.
If a single person were to see what I’m doing—
The rebellion feels fucking good. I almost wish we’d get caught.
It would be the end of everything I’ve worked toward, all the reasons I strive to prove that I’m good enough—even when my head teases and taunts and insults me by demonstrating I’m not.
I wish it were that simple. It’s not. They’d make Delilah pay.
The correction that would come her way would be worse than anything she’s already gone through.
Yet, my cock still strains to get at her, memories of the way it’d felt to be inside her pussy buzzing through my mind like an angry swarm of bees. A desperate noise bubbles from my lips.
The rush of frenetic energy between us whips like a gale force wind. Delilah is no less affected than I am. Her hands make a frantic bid to hang onto me, fingers clawing over my shoulders through my shirt, like she hates me. But also … like she wants me.
A low, rumbled groan escapes my lips. I’ve caught her off guard, caught myself unaware, too, and the simple intensity of her reaction to what we’re doing makes me want more.
Like a man possessed, I coax her tongue into a greedy, torturous duel with mine, then come up for air, only to go back for more, stealing every last gasp and muttered curse from her.
I can’t get enough. Anger and frustration fuel us in equal measure.
I’m ravenous as I hold her naked body with one arm firmly belted around her, the other diving into the hair at the nape of her neck, seeking to control the angle of our kiss.
I thrust against her stomach, my cock insistent and demanding.
The feel of her body giving in but also fighting me at every turn has me coming apart at the seams. Against my rib cage, my heart pummels me from the inside as if it’s trying to escape to meet hers somewhere in the nonexistent space between us.
I’m so wrapped up in our battle that I don’t recognize Cross has returned until he coughs.
At the intrusion, I wrench my mouth away, but don’t address him at all.
I’m not done. Gripping Delilah’s jaw, I boldly stare into the deep blue depths of her eyes before roughly gasping out, “I am not my father. No matter what you think.”
Her lips twist as she glances upward. “You’re no different than the apples that’ll eventually fall from this fucking tree.” Those plush lips of hers tremble as she delivers a stony stare.
And the horrible thing is, I can see where she’d think that looking at our compound from the outside. But I also thought she and I … well, I thought she understood me, if only a little. The fact that she doesn’t seem to—it stings.
“Hayze,” Cross grits out, narrowing his shrewd gaze on me, “if anyone decides to come back to have a look at how we’re managing this situation, we’re fucked.
” He juts his chin in the direction the Collective had gone earlier.
“Go. Seriously. Head them off before any of them come back this way. I’ll finish. ”
He’s not wrong. I have to report in soon, we both know it. I nod my agreement and, like a predator tracking its prey, my gaze unerringly finds Delilah and bores into her. If only she knew just how badly I want to crush my mouth to hers and forget everything else.
She remains rooted in front of the tree, breath coming hard and fast, even though nothing is forcing her to remain there except the weight of my stare. “Fine,” she bites out, bitterness bleeding from her tone. “Go ahead. Leave me. After all, that’s what you do.”
My nostrils flare at the agitation in her voice.
I can’t help but reach for her—to do I have no clue what—and in the next second, a loud crack fills the air.
It takes a moment to register what’s happened.
I blink, dazed, as the stinging sensation spreads throughout my cheek.
Holding my palm to it, my eyes lock with Delilah’s anger-filled ones.
“All this,” she huffs, “because I didn’t want their hands on me. Sick fucks.” There’s only a second of hesitation before she spits, “I hate you.”
Defeat roiling in my gut, I throw my arms out from my sides. I have to go. “Good luck, Cross,” I mumble, turning and walking away.
The way I leave her there causes a never-ending ache in my chest.