Chapter Three #2
I should tell him to fuck off and call it a day. But for some reason, I follow him all the way up the stairs until there’s no more up left. Sawyer opens yet another unlocked door, and we step out on a roof.
He walks first with me in tow.
It’s windy up here, the breeze tussling our hair. I’m sure it’s just my imagination, but the air seems somehow less polluted. Like it contains more oxygen.
Sawyer casually walks until he stops two feet from the roof’s edge, puts one foot on the parapet wall, inhales deeply and looks at the nothingness stretching in front of us.
I take a second to observe him. A part of me wishes I knew what’s going on in his head right now.
“So?” I finally say when it’s obvious Sawyer’s not going to initiate a conversation. “What’s the point of,” I motion my chin around, “this?”
Sawyer takes his time, as if enjoying the clear air for a few more breaths, before he says, “Does everything have to have a point?”
He kicks a piece of gravel off the parapet, my eyes following it down where it disappears in a narrow strip of empty space between two buildings.
I scoff and open my mouth to retort before my heart stops momentarily as Sawyer steps on the parapet with both feet and then jumps to the other building’s roof.
“Are you insane?” I snap the second both of Sawyer’s feet land safely on the other side.
He turns to face me. “I don’t know, Blake. Am I insane? Or are you just uptight?”
“What are you talk—” The rest of the sentence gets stuck in my throat when Sawyer stretches his hand toward me. “Oh, hell no.”
“Why not? Chickening out again?”
The audacity of his guy. “I’m not chickening out. Sorry if I’m unwilling to risk my life for your amusement.” The life-risking part might be a stretch since there’s only about three feet gap between the buildings. Still, that’s three feet twelve floors above the ground.
He lowers his hand, and the smirk on his face is nothing if not condescending. “Yeah. Didn’t think so.” He looks me over from head to toe while running his tongue over his upper teeth before he turns around, puts his hands in his pockets, and moves to walk away.
It’s like this invisible switch in my brain flips. Is it possible to be drawn to someone and wholeheartedly hate them at the same time? Because that’s exactly what’s going on. My shoulders stiffen and my nostrils flare as I yell at the top of my lungs, “You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that?”
Sawyer halts and sways from foot to foot before leisurely pivoting on his heel to face me, hands still casually resting in his pockets as if to signal his disinterest. “What was that, trust fund boy? I didn’t quite catch that.”
My vision goes white. I’m going to fucking kill him.
I barely register when my feet climb on the parapet and after taking a deep breath, which does nothing to oxygenate my rage-fueled brain, I take the leap.
It’s not until I’m on the other side, my feet steady on the ground and a tight grip around my biceps, that I realize what I’ve done.
“Don’t you fucking touch me!” I yank my arm out of Sawyer’s grip, my heart pounding a thousand beats per minute.
“You think you're so smug, don’t you? You think you’re the king of the fucking world, and the rest of us are your fucking servants?
Well, guess what?” I push his shoulders with my hands and advance on him the second he walks backward, a smug smile remaining on his face.
“You’re nothing but a fucking bully. A Peter Pan who’s decided he’s better than anyone else. An overgrown toddler that—”
“Hey!” A roar, I’m sure, is heard all the way down tears out of Sawyer’s throat.
It happens in a flash. He grabs my wrists in a vice-like grip, spins us around, and launches forward until my back hits a solid surface of a wall of an adjacent building.
“You know nothing about me. You hear me? Nothing. Don’t for a second think otherwise. ”
I yank my hands, but his grip is unyielding, the backs of my wrists getting scrapped by the wall.
My heart is racing, and cold sweat runs down my neck.
But despite my current position, one thing still fuels me—for the first time, I finally got a reaction.
I do my best to unclench my jaw. “Nah. I think it’s still your delusion talking. Making you feel like you’re special.”
He tightens his grip. “Watch it.”
“Or what?”
He offers no more words, but the expression on his face says it all—furious, wild, animalistic.
His chest pushes me into the wall and I can feel it expand as he takes deep, frantic breaths, hot exhales landing on my face, his lips an inch from mine. Close. Too close.
Then I catch it. It doesn’t last longer than half a second, but his eyes drop to my mouth before he looks me in the eye, his gaze challenging. He runs his tongue along his lower lip.
My breath hitches in my throat, and even though I know he doesn’t really want to kiss me, that I’m imagining things, the threat is real in my mind all the same.
And suddenly, that’s more than I can handle.
I gather all the strength I possess in my tense muscles and use my foot to push off the wall. I must take him by surprise because a second later, my body pins his to the wall, my forearm pressed against his throat. A spark flashes in his eyes.
Better. Much better.
But Sawyer isn’t one to admit defeat and the smugness returns to his face momentarily. His voice is calmer and he arches an eyebrow. “Who’s the bully now?”
“Still you.”
He chuckles humorlessly. “You better get off me.”
“Or what?”
And there’s that asshole smirk again. “Fuck around and find out.”
He shifts from foot to foot, and I realize the full length of my body is pressed against his. A stir forms in my groin, and this time, I know exactly what it means. Because I’ve felt it before.
And I’m not gonna let him have this one.
It’s like this unfamiliar surge of adrenalin rushes through me, and as scary as it is, I know exactly what I’m going to do. The only way I can try to put him in his place. The only way I know how.
How do I know? Well, I’ve learned from the master that’s currently pressed against a dirty wall.
I slowly release my hold and take a step back.
Sawyer doesn’t move, save for his heaving chest. I ignore his smirk. I ignore how his eyebrow rises in amusement. By now, I know it’s nothing by a facade. And I’m here to make him realize it as well.
I jerk my chin toward his torso. “Give me your jacket.”
“And why would I do that?”
And now it’s my turn to smirk. “Fuck around and find out.”
He lifts his chin, and there’s no doubt in my mind it’s to look down at me.
Well, guess what? It won’t work this time.
He peers at me for a few beats, and I can sense the wheels in his head turning before he pushes off the wall. Our bodies almost touch again as he unzips his leather jacket and shrugs it off his shoulders.
I stand my ground.
He hands it to me, and I take it, using my other hand to push him back against the wall. Making sure to maintain eye contact, I unfold the leather and drop it on the ground between us. And as his eyes lower, so do I until I kneel before him.
I can pinpoint exactly when his expression changes, usual smugness replaced by uncertainty for the very first time. And although I’m on my knees looking up, it’s as though I’m looking down at him at the same time.
And it’s fucking intoxicating.
I take my time, suddenly hyper-aware of my surroundings.
Cold wind hits my heated cheek, and thunder breaks out somewhere in the cloudy sky.
I shoot him a one-sided smirk, mimicking his usual one, and slowly swipe my gaze down his frame, from his white V-neck wrapped snugly around his athletic torso to the front of his pants.
Something shifts underneath the fabric.
If you had asked me two weeks ago if I ever pictured myself on my knees in front of a man, bracing myself to crosse a line I never expected myself to get near, I’d tell you to get your head checked.
Yet here I am, my thoughts racing, and my senses sharpened as I reach out and marvel at the full-body shudder that goes through him when I slide my index finger along his progressively bulging pants.
And I love every second of it.
The sensation against my finger takes me by surprise. A hard, solid shape covered by soft, black fabric. Something I’ve never felt before.
It’s the sense of undeniable power that gets me the most.
I press my palm against his erection, wrapping my fingers around it the best the now too tight fabric allows me.
I could walk away now. I could leave him hanging, much like he did me, getting him frustrated. Confused. Ready to combust.
I won’t. And that’s my choice. Not Sawyer’s. Not anybody else's.
I’m choosing to stay.
I look up and my mouth crooks into an involuntary smile as soon as I see Sawyer’s face.
His head is pressing against the wall, and so are his shoulders. His mouth is ajar, and he’s almost fucking panting.
I’m making him pant.
Drunk on power, I reach to undo his pants and lower them just enough to expose his cock, trying to break free from his burgundy boxer briefs.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Fuck. Even his voice is raspy now.
I cock my head to the side. “Why do you care?”
“I—” His words die in his throat as I bring my head forward and run the tip of my nose up his sizable bulge.
That’s right. Even your words are mine now.
Musk, shower gel, a trace of cologne. And something unfamiliar. Maybe a man. Maybe Sawyer, in particular.
The muscles of his left thigh twitch.
“You better not collapse on me now,” I say against his groin.
The gasp that comes from above me serves as my response.
I take another lungful of his scent and my head spins.