Chapter 16 #2
“Fuck,” I murmur, chasing after her and Maisy as they chuckle loudly to each other.
She’s already managed to get in by the time I reach the church. I check the door; no broken locks. It must have been open. Thank fuck I don’t have to call Prez and tell him his daughter’s in a fucking police cell.
She stands beside the font, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Fuck, Storm, don’t,” I warn her.
A slow sly grin spreads across her face, and she reaches into her bag and pulls out a jar of Enzos’s homemade spirits. I watch as she empties the entire contents into the holy water.
I run my hand down my face. Fuck.
“You’ve just poisoned the holy water.” Maisy giggles as she stands next to a statue of Jessus, looking up at him. She frowns. “Do you think he will be mad at us?” she asks.
“No, I think he’s very forgiving. Now let’s fucking go before you do more stupid shit, that even he won’t forgive you for,” I snap.
Storm arches her brow. “Sounds to me like you’re chicken shit.”
I sigh. “I’m not a fucking chicken.”
“Bok-bok-bok,” Maisy taunts, making chicken sounds while clucking her arms like wings.
“Fuck, look, we need to go now before more fucking damage is done, and you two end up in a prison cell,” I state sternly. My cell rings and I answer it. “Yeah?”
“Storm with you?” Enzo asks, worried.
“Unfortunately,” I mutter as I watch Storm and Maisy push their faces in the holy water, which is now ninety per cent alcohol, and drink it like dogs.
“Where are you?” Enzo asks.
“The church, but if they carry on, we’ll probably end up in a cell,” I mutter.
“You reckon I could hurdle the pews?” Storm asks Maisy, wiping her dripping chin with the back of her hand.
“You can do whatever you put your mind to.” Maisy nods.
“No, you fucking can’t!” I bark loudly before hanging up the call.
“Don’t let him darken your light.” Maisy hiccups as she slumps on the stone steps.
“You’re right! I can achieve anything.” Storm nods, taking a stance like she’s about to leap. I move quickly and wrap my hand around her waist, pulling her to me.
“You try to leap over those fucking pews, you will smash your face in and re-break those ribs that have only just healed,” I warn in her ear.
She pouts. “You just have to spoil all my fun.”
Enzo walks in, a smirk on his face, shaking his head back and forth as he approaches us. “Time to go home.”
“Noo,” Maisy cries, hugging the base of the font.
“Try the holy water, bro, it’s delicious.” Storm snorts as her body relaxes against mine. with her back pressed to my front, I keep my arm around her waist, grazing my thumb along the bare skin where her top has ridden up.
“Maisy, fuck, I have more holy water in the truck,” Enzo lies.
“You promise?” she says, looking up at him.
“I would never lie to you,” Enzo states. She nods and takes his hand as he helps her up. She stumbles, nearly falling, so Enzo takes no chances and scoops her up in his arms and carries her out.
“Come on, BB,” I murmur, releasing my hold on her.
I lace my fingers through hers and start leading her toward the door. After a few steps, she stops. The sudden resistance tugs at my arm. I turn, expecting to find she’d stumbled over something, but she’s just standing there, watching me.
“What is it?” I ask, moving closer. My hands find her face instinctively. “Are you hurting?”
Her gaze locks onto mine. “Kiss me, Drix.” The words hit harder than they should.
My lips part. “I can’t.”
“You can.”
“You’re drunk.”
A small smile touches her mouth as she nods. “I am.”
“Then I definitely can’t.”
Her hands flatten against my chest. Warm. Steady. Before I can stop her, she rises onto her toes and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is soft at first. Testing. Waiting.
When I don’t immediately respond, she pulls back, just enough for her breath to ghost across my mouth. “Fucking kiss me, Drix.” The demand is barely above a whisper.
Then she catches my bottom lip between her teeth.
My restraint snaps. One second, I’m fighting myself, the next, my fingers are buried in the silk of her dark hair.
A sharp gasp leaves her as I tilt her head back, forcing her eyes to meet mine. I don’t kiss her. Not yet. I just look at her. At the desire burning in her eyes, at the way her lips have parted, at the uneven rhythm of her breathing.
Every ounce of control I have is hanging by a thread.
“If you’re waiting for me to beg,” she says, her voice rough and defiant, “you’re going to be waiting a long fucking time.”
A slow smile pulls at my mouth. “Oh, sweetheart,” I murmur. “I’m not interested in simply making you beg.” I pause, watching her throat bob as she swallows. “I’m interested in making you forget every stubborn thing you were about to say.”
For the first time, she falters. Only for a second, but I see it. “I’ve never begged for any man.”
The challenge in her voice only makes my pulse pound harder. I brush my mouth against hers. Once. Twice. Never fucking enough. Her shiver is immediate.
“That’s okay,” I whisper against her lips.
My hand tightens slightly in her hair. “Because I’m not just any man.
” Not giving her a chance to respond, I crush my mouth to hers.
The second our lips meet, every shred of restraint I’ve been clinging to evaporates.
I kiss her hard; possessive, demanding. I’ve spent too long denying myself this.
A soft sound escapes her, and it nearly fucking undoes me.
She kisses me back without hesitation, matching every ounce of intensity I give her. Her fingers curl on my chest as her nails lightly graze my skin.
The world narrows to her breath, her touch, the taste of her.
Nothing else exists. Nothing else matters.
I pull her closer, unable to stop myself, needing her nearer, even when there’s barely any space left between us.
My pulse pounds violently in my chest. One kiss.
That’s all it takes with her. One kiss, and my entire body is at war with itself.
The rational part of me is screaming to stop, but the rest of me is already lost. Her hands slide lower, slow and deliberate, but the instant they reach my waist, reality crashes back into me.
I break the kiss—hard—and it’s like tearing myself away from an addiction.
I stumble back a step, dragging in a sharp breath.
She just stares at me, bewildered and breathless. Her lips are swollen from my kiss as her chest rises and falls too fast. Desire burns in her eyes, bright enough to bring me to my fucking knees.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
I rake a hand through my hair and turn away for half a second, desperately trying to regain control, to remember why stopping is the right thing to do, because every instinct I possess is demanding the opposite.
Every glance. Every touch. Every shaky breath she takes.
It’s all pushing me towards the edge, and God fucking help me, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold myself back.
She lets out a soft giggle and shakes her head. Strange reaction. I don’t think I’ve ever been laughed at after kissing someone, especially a kiss like that. “You aren’t going to touch me, are you?” she asks, looking up at me with sadness in her eyes.
“No!” I rasp, forcing the word out.
“So, what is it? Is it the fact that I can’t be touched? Or is it because you’re scared you will hurt me?”
“You’re not ready,” I tell her honestly.
She nods, not saying anything, just looking down at her hands. “And when will you deem me to be ready?” she snaps, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She blinks rapidly, lifting her chin defiantly.
I move to her, taking firm hold of her chin.
I catch the slightest flicker of fear in her eyes.
I force her to look at me, to see that I want her, that I mean every fucking word.
“When the fear is no longer in your eyes, when you no longer flinch if one of the brothers shouts, and when you stand toe to toe with me fighting back.” I pause, my thumb brushing lightly across her bottom lip.
“When you want me, my touch, my fucking patch.” She sucks in a shuddery breath.
“When you aren’t just using me to forget.
I will help you find yourself, BB, but I won’t let you do something that will be a regret.
” I press my lips to her temple, a soft lingering kiss.
“Drix.” She says my name with heartbreaking saddness. An underlying guilt maybe?.
Unable to bare to hear that in her voice, I move towards the door. I stop and look at her over my shoulder. “Get in the damn truck, BB,” I order.
She blinks, stunned slightly at the switch in conversation.
“Move it, BB. I don’t have all night,” I goad, wanting that sadness, that awkwardness, gone.
She frowns and folds her arms across her chest. “Alright! There is no need to be an ass about it,” she snaps.
I smirk as she stomps past me, still swaying slightly on her feet.