Chapter Twenty One #2
I jerk my chin for her to come out. She slides the door open, stands with her arms folded, feet braced against the cold.
“Is it safe?” she asks, as if I’m in charge of the weather.
We stand there in silence, letting the smoke, the cold, and the tension sit on our shoulders.
Her tank top is threadbare, barely covering the gold of her skin.
Instead, I flick the last of the cigarette into the pond. “You should eat something.”
She shrugs, but follows me back inside. The kitchen is empty.
Since I never come to this house, I never thought to stock it with food.
I know Xavier had a few things sent over, so I dig through the fridge, find eggs and some pre-cooked bacon, and start frying with my back to her.
I can feel her staring at me, cataloging every move.
“You cook,” she says, almost surprised.
“I eat,” I counter, “so yeah.”
She slides onto a barstool, legs crossed, and watches me. “Are you always this jumpy, or is it just me?”
I crack an egg into the pan and watch the yolk rupture. “You’re not helping.”
She smiles, slow and feline. “I could.”
I freeze, spatula in hand, and look at her. “Yeah?”
She pats the stool next to hers. “Sit.”
I finish the eggs and plate them, then walk over, still holding the pan like a shield. She takes it from me, sets it on the counter, and pulls me down until we’re hip to hip.
“What are we going to do today?” she asked me.
“You are going to stay here with Lily. My mom will be here sometime later in the day. She’s not anything like my dad. She’s gentle and warm. The guys and I will head back to town and have a meeting with our crew to find out what they know,” I explained to her.
She grabs a strip of bacon and bites off half, chewing slowly. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. I just need to know that you are safe.” I watch her carefully.
“Why do you care so much?” she questions me with a narrowed gaze.
“Selena, do I have to spell it out for you?” I quip.
“I guess so,” she muses.
I stop what I’m doing and go serious. “Selena, you are the first woman I’ve ever taken the mask off for.
You are the only one whom I’ve cared enough about to ensure their safety.
You know about my life. And it’s not because you are bossy and stubborn as hell, but because you make me want to share my life with someone else.
I know we haven’t known one another for very long, but there’s something about you that I just… crave. I feel like I need you.”
“Why me?” She asks the question, but it stumps me. How can she ask me something like that?
I stomp over to her and cup her face in my hands. “Selena, because you are beautiful, smart, determined, and the fiercest woman I know. You didn’t back down. You aren’t afraid of me. I’m insane, and I know it, but I’m so in love with you,” I admit.
She smiles as her eyes go wide. “You love me?”
“Yes,” I almost shout.
She smiles then it falters. “But you said we could never be more than a hook-up,” she argues. “Look, I love what we are doing, but I don’t want to get my heart broken. Don’t play with my heart and mind,” she warns.
For some reason, this makes me smile. This is one of the reasons I love her. She’s brave and strong, and not afraid at all to stand up for herself. She knows who and what I am and still, she’s calling me out on my shit.
I fucking love it.
I fucking love her.
“Selena, you’re mine and I take care of what’s mine. I love you and I swear, this isn’t a game to me. As badly as I didn’t want to fall for you, I did. Your my weakness,” I explain.
She smiles. “Really?”
Instead of answering, I crash my lips against hers and kiss her with so much passion and force that she has to feel the intensity of my feelings for her. When we finally break away, we are both panting.
“All I want to do is be with you. You drive me absolutely wild. And fuck, I want to fuck you so bad right now,” I growl out. “And just know, I’ll burn the whole city down before I ever let anyone touch you.” I watch her face, needing for her to understand how serious I am.
She licks bacon grease off her finger. “So what are you waiting for?”
The words hit me in the chest. For a second, I think about all the ways this could end badly: with her dead, with me dead, with both of us as stains in the garden. Then I reach out and hook a finger under the strap of her tank top, slide it off her shoulder, and watch her shiver.
I want to do this right, but nothing in my life has ever been right. I grab her by the jaw, thumb pressing into the hollow under her cheekbone, and kiss her the way you’d kiss a curse. She tastes like smoke and salt and maybe a little fear, but she kisses back, hungry.
She climbs onto my lap, straddling me, and yanks at my t-shirt until it’s balled up between us. Her nails scrape down my back, and I want to see blood. I lift her, still kissing, and carry her out of the kitchen, bumping into walls, knocking over a glass that shatters somewhere behind us.
We made it to the first guest bedroom. The sheets are cold, and the mattress is too stiff, but neither of us cares. She tears at my shorts, laughs when the waistband fights her, then bites my neck hard enough to leave a mark.
I grab her wrists, pin them over her head, and lean in close. “You want this?” I ask, just once.
She nods, breathless. “Do it.”
I slide a hand up her thigh, slow, until I feel the heat of her. She’s already wet, and I let her see how much I like it. She arches against my hand, grinding, and it’s so fucking good I almost lose it right there.
But then she says, “Don’t go easy,” and the whole world tilts.
“You sure?” I need her consent right now.
“Yes, I trust you.” Those words send my brain into a whirlwind.
I let go of her wrists, reach for my gun, a small Glock that I keep in my waistband. I watch her face as I lay it next to us on the bed.
She sees it, and her eyes go wide. For a second, she doesn’t move.
Then she grins, slow and feral. “You want to scare me?”
“No,” I say, voice gone dark. “I want to show you what you do to me.”
She grabs the gun before I do. She holds it in both hands, the barrel resting against her chest, and I can see her pulse in her throat.
She runs it along her perfect tits, and I almost come in my pants at the sight.
I take it from her, slowly, and press it against the inside of her thigh, just above the knee.
She gasps, but doesn’t pull away. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, and kiss her again.
I slide the gun up, dragging the cold barrel over her skin until it hits the seam of her underwear. I press the muzzle against the cotton, and she shudders, hips bucking up. She looks at me, waiting to see if I’ll blink first.
I don’t.
I hook my thumb under the waistband, pull her panties aside, and run the barrel up between her legs, slow, circling her clit. She’s panting now, legs spread wide, and the sound she makes when I press just a little harder is better than any drug.
"Just the tip," I say, licking my lips. She watches me, her eyes wide and hungry for more.
I slide the tip of the gun into her and watch with a delightful smile as her eyes roll into the back of her head.
She moans as I rub it along the inside of her, coating it with her juices.
She grabs my wrist, hard, and uses it to push the gun in deeper, right where she wants it. “Do it,” she says, voice raw.
I slide the barrel in, just the tip, slow and careful. She moans loudly and rocks her hips until the whole thing is inside her. I watch her face, the way she loses control, the way her eyes roll back, and her lips part.
I fuck her with it, slow at first, then faster, and she clings to me, nails raking down my back, legs shaking.
When she comes, it’s like watching a live wire short out. She grabs the sheets, gasping, and I have to hold her down so she doesn’t hurt herself. I keep going until she’s begging, then pull the gun out and toss it onto the floor.
I pin her down and fuck her the old-fashioned way, hard and rough and desperate. She wraps her legs around me and pulls me in, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.
When I come, it’s with her name in my mouth, over and over, until the world goes white.
We lie there after, sweating, tangled, the sheets a mess. The gun is still on the floor, but neither of us cares.
Selena turns to me, eyes heavy, lips swollen. “Have you ever done that before?”
I shake my head. “Only in my head.”
She laughs, the sound low and dangerous. “You’re a freak.”
“So are you,” I say, and kiss her again.
For the first time in my life, I don’t feel empty.
I feel whole.
Later, I find Selena in the living room, curled on the couch with Lily, both of them watching reality television. They look up when I walk in. Selena’s face is unreadable, but her hand finds mine when I sit beside her.
She waits for me to say it, whatever it is. I squeeze her hand, hard.
“We have to go into town. Talk to my father. It might get ugly.”
She nods, no fear in her eyes. “Are you coming back?”
I want to lie, to promise. Instead, I say, “I’ll try.”
She pulls me in for a kiss, brief but hard, and Lily wolf-whistles from the other end of the couch. “Get a room, you two.”
Selena smiles, but it’s brittle. “Should I be worried?”
“No,” I lied.
Damon and Xavier are waiting by the door, impatient.
I grab my jacket, and as we walk out, Selena calls after me. “If you die, I’m writing your obituary myself.”
Damon grins. “At least someone will say something nice.”
Xavier rolls his eyes, but I see the flicker of worry. He’s always been the most afraid of dying last.
We pile into Damon’s car, and the engine roars to life. The world blurs by in a rush of speed and cold, and I can’t help but think this is exactly what my father wanted all along: three sons, riding out to war, no one left behind to clean up the mess.
But maybe this time, we’ll finish it our way.