27. Levi
LEVI
I s there a special place in hell for men who pluck off a butterfly’s wings to keep her grounded? Make her fall in love and keep her at arm’s length so she’ll never want to leave?
How about the men who lie, cheat, and steal to get what they want? Do they deserve retribution?
Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. Maybe I’ve just officially lost my fucking mind.
My eyes ghost over the bed, taking in the soft form nestled into my side.
Ava looks so innocent when she sleeps. It’s hard to believe she’s here.
Her pouty lips, still swollen from my kissing, her parted lips slightly over her even breathing, and her lashes cast shadows over her cheeks.
Her hair lies across the pillow, frizzy from my hands.
The dark waves form a halo around her face.
Like I’ve corrupted an angel in God’s eyes.
Looking at her fucking hurts. Like gutting yourself open from the inside out and watching yourself bleed.
And now I sound like a fucking Hallmark card.
I can’t fucking stand her sometimes, but like hell I’m letting anyone else have her. She’s mine. My little porcelain doll to break. To fuck in every way I’ve been imagining since I laid eyes on her.
Toxic? Yes.
Do I really care? No.
If I’m toxic, then she made me this way. Now she gets to suffer the consequences.
As if Ava knows I’m watching her, she stirs in her sleep, rolling away from me and pressing her pretty little ass against me. Gently, I reach out, tracing the lines of the dimples on her lower back beneath the sheets.
I want to sink inside her just to feel her come for me again, but I know she’s not ready.
My cock’s hard thinking about her body molded against mine.
Her nails digging into my back, tugging the roots of my hair while I fucked her like I could engrain myself in every stitch of her DNA.
How fucking tight she was, and that throaty voice moaning my name while I fucked her harder than I should have.
A burn slides up my spine, and I shake the feeling off, slowly slipping from the bed so I don’t wake her. As much as I’d like to laze around in the cabin with her all day, I’ve got shit to do, and it would only blur the lines between us even more than they already are.
Fuck knows, I don’t need any help there.
I head to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of the scratches on my back, and my cock twitches at the sight.
Fuck. Me.
Cutting on the old shower, I slip under the hot water and place my hands on the shower wall, letting the warmth wash over my neck and shoulders. I’m stiff because I haven’t gone that hard in a long time.
I just needed to punish her for disappearing like that. For making me come find her.
She was right when she accused me of caring. I do.
And that’s exactly why I need to remind her that I’m not the guy she thinks I am.
When I emerge from the bathroom half an hour later, Ava’s sitting up in bed, the sheets wrapped around her as if she’s worried about me seeing her naked. As if I didn’t just fuck her raw last night in every position I could think of.
“Good morning,” she greets softly, her gaze following me when I cross to the dresser on the far side of the room and pull out some clothes.
I’ve got the basics here. A couple pairs of jeans and a few T-shirts.
I grab a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and toss them to her.
I know they’ll be too big, but they’ll have to do because her clothes are tattered from last night.
Ava’s cheeks flame as the clothes land in her lap.
“They’re clean.”
Her gaze cuts to mine, then slowly slips down over the low-hanging towel on my hips before sliding back up to the water droplets clinging to my bare chest.
Fuck .
“Keep looking at me like that,” I warn.
I drop the towel at my feet, and if I weren’t already in a foul mood, I would laugh at the way she quickly looks away.
“How are you feeling?”
Her gaze meets mine once I tug my boxers up my legs.
“A little sore,” she concedes. “Hungry.”
Hungry. If I had my way, I’d feed her in bed.
Spend the day lazing around and avoiding the rest of the world.
But I don’t have time for that, and shit like that breeds expectations.
I’m an asshole. One that doesn’t deserve any part of her.
I took it, knowing I should have cleaned her up and taken her back to bed.
I let her get under my skin, and now I have no fucking idea how to get her out.
“I don’t feed, Ava. I fuck,” I grunt, slipping the shirt over my head and turning away.
She goes silent, and I can’t look at her in the mirror because if I do, I know I’ll break. The closer she gets to me, the closer she is to the truth, and I know the moment she finds out what I did, she’ll leave. Why would she stay?
Finally, I force myself to look at her and find her watching me with a guarded expression.
“Get ready. I’ll take you back to the house. I’ve got stuff to do.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but falls silent instead.
Carefully, she slips from the bed, dragging the sheet with her and keeping it tucked protectively around herself like it’s a shield.
I fucking hate it because I know I’m only pushing her away, but what good is it trying to convince her to stay?
She’ll always want to know more. She’ll want a glimpse into my mind.
She won’t be able to handle the nightmares or the truth of who I am.
A fucking monster that takes and takes because someone took from him, and now, I can’t stop.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly when she stops at the door to the bathroom.
Fuck.
I run a hand over my face, my muscles tense.
I definitely need to shoot something. Break something with my bare hands.
I don’t deserve her worry. Her concern.
She still cares about me, even after everything I’ve put her through. Everything I’ve said to her.
“We both got what we wanted, Ava,” I snap harshly, hating myself even as the words leave my mouth. They taste like battery acid on my tongue, but I force myself to fucking say it anyway because I feel like I’m losing my mind. “I don’t know what else you think you’re going to find.”
“Right,” she nods and turns away like she can hide the tears in her eyes.
Something in me cracks, and I suddenly hate her for her concern.
Why can’t she just hate me? It would make it so much easier to let her go.
If she didn’t look at me like there’s something good left inside that can be salvaged. Like I need to be saved.
My chest burns, my teeth threatening to crack behind the force of my jaw as I clench them tightly.
I grip the dresser in front of me when she goes into the bathroom and shuts the door, casting a dark cloud over the rest of the cabin in her silence.
When the shower cuts on, something cracks in my hand, and I look down to see that I broke the edge of the dresser with the force behind my grip.
Something cracks in my hand, and I look down to see that I broke the edge of the dresser with the force behind my grip.
The thing was a piece of shit anyway.
Looking down at the splintered wood, though, I can’t mistake the irony hidden in the broken surface.
Ava wasn’t made for me.
Eventually, she’ll see it, too. God fucking help me when that day comes.
“Came alone tonight, I see.”
Cherry slides a beer across the counter to me when I sit down on an empty stool at the bar. The place is less crowded today, given it’s early, and I can’t decide if I miss the noise or not.
Can’t have everything we want, can we?
“Got work to do,” I answer stiffly, ignoring the question surrounding Ava.
Truthfully, I don’t know why the fuck I’m here. I don’t want to fight. In fact, I just want to go find the little ghost staying in my house and drag her back to my bed until she doesn’t look at me like she hates me.
“Never thought I’d see the day Black fell in love,” she smirks. “The girl seems sweet. In a Care Bear kind of way. Let me guess . . . kindergarten teacher?”
So, the animosity I’d felt in the air the night I’d brought Ava here wasn’t just a part of my imagination.
“Never thought I’d see the day that Cherry was jealous,” I counter, tipping my beer back.
“I’m not jealous, Black. I told you I want you to find someone.”
“Just didn’t think it’d be this soon, huh?”
She shoots me a look, scrubbing the top of the bar.
“I never said that. I just figured you could do better. But hey, if you’re into that whole sweet and innocent act, then by all means.”
Any other time, I wouldn’t care, but now I’m finding myself wondering if anything was said to Ava, and if that’s not why she practically jumped my dick the moment we got home. I can’t lie and say I’m not grateful, but I also don’t want someone putting ideas in her head.
“What happens between me and Ava is no one’s business.”
Cherry rolls her eyes, vigorously wiping a spot that’s already clean.
“Yeah, whatever you say, Casanova.”
She stalks off to the other side of the bar, and I sit with my beer, thinking about last night.
The sheer fucking panic I’d felt when I couldn’t find her, only to spot her in the overgrowth by some stroke of a miracle.
I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I hadn’t found her, and I also don’t want to think about what the fuck that means.
Do I care about her?
Sure. As much as any human being.
Am I in love with her?
Absolutely, fucking not.
It doesn’t mean anything.
Needing to see her doesn’t mean anything. The guilt I feel for the way I treated her this morning doesn’t mean anything. The ache in my chest when she laughs doesn’t fucking mean anything .
I’m not in love. Love is simple.
This feeling is anything but.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
I stiffen. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s my brother. He has that effect on people—the kind that creeps in just before the storm breaks.