Chapter Eighteen
Cade
I yank Sky through the door to the roof just as I spot a slipper cresting the stairs, my heart hammering in my chest. I’ve never been so afraid in the face of getting caught before. I couldn’t typically care less, but there was something in Sky’s eyes that unnerved me. And that comment about getting her lip split? I’m thinking about flaying someone at just the thought of her being harmed.
I push her up the three steps to the level section of the pebbled roof, and immediately groan when I notice she doesn’t have shoes on.
“Did they see us?” she asks, all wide eyed and breathy.
“No.” I stare down at her bare feet as she wobbles this way and that. Obviously trying to take some of the pointy pressure off.
“Do you think it—“ she starts, but gasps as I pick her up. Her legs instinctively wrap around my waist.
“Cade!” She scrambles as she latches her arms around my neck, clutching for dear life as if I would drop her.
But I’m not like her sorry excuse for a roommate.
“What are you doing?” she hisses. Her cheek is pressed right against mine, and her whisper sends shivers into my ear.
“Holding you,” I tell her, even though that part is obvious. I’m at a loss for anything else.
I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to feel the softness of her skin, or know what her breaths feel like against my ear. I don’t want to have her pussy clenched around my stomach, warm and close and tempting. But I couldn’t stand it a second longer. I couldn’t watch her suffer on the pebbles. And it makes no sense. Because I hate her for distracting me, for luring me in when I know she’s not who I think.
It makes no sense because she’s as good as dead, anyway.
“I can see that, but why?” she persists.
I turn my lips toward her, my face burying itself in her hair without hesitation.
“How about you tell me why you’re so afraid of getting caught,” I grit against the intoxicating scent that is just her. No artificial fragrances or falsities, just Sky.
I’m agitated with how much I like it, but at the same time, I can’t resist. I nuzzle farther, breathing it deep.
“Because we could get expelled,” she says, and I note that her voice is a little weaker, a little softer.
“That’s a lie,” I say, my lips grazing her ear lobe.
She suddenly goes stiff in my arms, and now I feel it. Her pulsating against my stomach, her ache .
She. Wants. Me.
And jesus christ, I want her too. I want to feel her grow wet, soak through her shorts, and have it seep through my shirt. No, fuck that. I want it on my lips. I want her to fucking drown me in it. I want her to pin me in the gravel and straddle my face.
“I don’t…” She swallows. “I don’t want to lie to you.”
“Then don’t,” I tell her, but I can’t remember exactly what I don’t want her to lie about.
She pulls back to look at me, really look at me. The weight of her gaze is like the morning sun dissolving the night’s fog. I’ve spent so long as a ghost that being seen feels wrong, like just her perceiving me is an affront to who I am. And yet… I need it. I need her to see me because I want to exist again, for her and only her.
She tentatively unclasps her hands from behind my neck, and I know what she’s going to do. I know and resolve to let it happen anyway. I want this no matter how wrong it feels. I brace myself, clench my teeth, and wait for her to absolutely break me.
And then she pushes my hood back.