23. Talon
twenty-three
Talon
I felt when her mood changed. She’d been fine one moment, prattling on about random Wyoming facts she’d found, and the next moment she was quiet and it felt somehow colder in the small space. Misely had gone rigid where she lay stretched out across from me, her eyes going a little glassy.
When she laid her phone down, staring up at the LED lights that lit the ceiling above her, I knew something was wrong. Maybe it was the way her expression looked just as lost as it had when I caught her in the woods the other day, but I hated it. Setting down my book, I nudged her with my calf.
“What’s wrong, Blondie?”
She shook her head but didn’t say anything, didn’t move to look at me.
I nudged her again. “It’s all over your face so you might as well spit it out.”
In the week that I had shared her company, I had become very familiar with Misely’s emotions. She never hid what she was feeling and it had made me wonder if she even knew how. Whether she was furiously pissed off at me or blissfully happy or nostalgic like she had been earlier when talking about her best friend, it was all right there on her sleeve. But whatever this was, I couldn’t get a read on it.
“Misely?” I asked softly, placing my hand on her ankle.
She blinked, finally looking at me.
“Is there something wrong with me?”
The question caught me off guard, momentarily leaving me speechless. For the first time since I’d met her, Misely seemed like she had shrunken in on herself, like she was small. I should’ve responded with something snarky and mean to keep up appearances, but I couldn’t. Not when she looked so hallow.
Before I could answer, she was shaking her head again. “Why am I even asking you? It’s not like you have anything nice to say.”
“Why are you?” I asked and when she looked at me again, I cursed myself. There were tears in her eyes and I hadn’t been the one to put them there. Unacceptable. “What’s going on?”
“It’s stupid,” she said, her voice like a whisper. I could hear the way she held back more tears. I hated how it put me on edge, my muscles tightening at the sound. I hated how the idea of anyone making her feel lesser than filled me with a visceral, violent rage.
“Try me.”
Her eyes, the whites turning a pink that made the gray in them turn stark blue, darted to where my hand still lay on her ankle. Where my thumb had begun rubbing circles against her skin without any permission from my brain.
“My ex…” She rolled her eyes when her voice shook, and when she spoke again it was clear. “A little over a year ago we broke up—or, I should say, he broke up with me—because he couldn’t ‘ commit ’ yet. Couldn’t give me what I wanted.”
“What did you want?” It didn’t matter. This guy was obviously a fucking idiot.
“Everything,” she whispered. “Marriage, a home, kids. The dream.”
She said it like it was a joke, like wanting those things—perfectly normal things—was foolish. The bitter edges in her expression told me that she really believed that it was.
“He didn’t have time to share those things. Between school and work, it ‘ wasn’t fair to me. ’ But he’s engaged now, so I guess he had the time all along. Just not for me.”
“Misely—”
“And you know what? It’s not just him. Fuck , it’s everyone. Everyone who was ever supposed to care about me. Like it’s too much effort, or maybe I’m just not worth the effort it takes to have a meaningful relationship with. My fucking family. Every friend I’ve had besides Birdie. James. So, it’s gotta be me, right? I'm the problem.”
I wasn’t sure what came over me, but in the span of a moment, I was crossing the short distance, leaning over her, and gripping her face in my hands.
“Misely, shut up and listen to me.” Her eyes widened but she obeyed, her mouth snapping shut audibly. “It’s not you, it’s them . They are all fucking idiots. If they don’t see what a treasure you are, then that is a shortcoming on their part. Your ex was a total fucking moron for letting you go.”
Her brows dipped. “You’re not supposed to be nice to me.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, well they were. Maybe it’s not about what we’re supposed to do. Maybe it’s about what we want to do. Do you know what I want to do right now?” My gaze dropped to her lips, so soft, so perfect.
Her head jerked once in a small nod. “I think so. But I need you to tell me.”
This wasn’t the confident woman who’d stripped down and climbed into my shower, demanding I meet her needs. This was not the woman who spit in my face and told me to get fucked. This woman was vulnerable and more than a little bit sad. And for whatever reason, she was looking at me like I could change that. Like I could take that hurt away. Like I could reassure her that she was wanted and worthy.
And damnit, against all better judgment I didn’t want to prove her wrong.
“I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you for days but you weren’t talking to me. And now you are talking to me but you’re so sad and I really don’t like that. So right now, I want to fucking kiss you and make you forget all about the stupid fucking idiots who didn’t treat you like you were enough.”
It was too much. I knew it was too much as it was coming out of my mouth, knew it could blow everything, but I couldn’t help myself. My eyes were locked on hers, waiting for her to shove me off, to see right through the bad-boy-bullshit-facade. But she didn’t. Misely’s distraught gray eyes shifted, going from sad and lost, to heated and determined. Her hands fisted in the front of my t-shirt, pulling me in closer.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Kissing Misely was otherworldly. Kissing her allowed me a brief reprieve from the song that had been playing on repeat from the first moment I tasted her. The one that said, ‘ I’m so fucked ’ over and over and over because I could not get kissing Misely out of my head. Or touching her. Or smelling her. Or listening to her ramble or bitch or yell. Or those cute little sounds she makes when she’s eating something sinfully sweet.
I knew what was happening and even feeling powerless to stop it, I knew I had to try. Because against all odds, I was really beginning to like the girl. And maybe ‘like’ was far from a strong enough word but I wasn’t brave enough to admit that yet, after only a few days in her presence. And getting her tangled up in my web would be the worst thing for her. Look what getting involved with a member of the MacArthur clan had done to her friend; forced to pack up and ship off across the country under an alias, completely upending all of their lives.
I couldn’t do that to Misely too. Everything I’d already put her through was more than enough, and this was all assuming she was dealing with a similar affliction as I…which I highly doubted she was.
So, I resigned myself to taking what she would give me now—a physical connection to blow off some steam for the duration of this trip. Once it was over and I had secured my brother, we would go our separate ways and I’d never darken her doorstep again.
Misely bit down on my lower lip hard enough to break the skin, forcing my attention to remain on her. I groaned, my eyes shuddering closed as lust flooded my senses. Her nails, manicured and sharp, dug into my scalp. Her grip on my hair pulled me tightly to her. This didn’t feel so much like a kiss as it did a battle. She thought she was fighting for dominance but I recognized it for what it really was. The never-ending war for control. In life, in bed, in all things. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d been fighting the same battle for years and was only just beginning to accept that it’s a losing one.
In fact, meeting her had been the catalyst to that awakening. There was no control to be had where she was involved. Only chaos. Like a damn tornado. Like the absolute terror she was.
I said as much, moving my mouth to her neck, whispering into the shell of her ear, “You are a terror. A complete terror .”
“Maybe,” she whispered, her husky voice the definition of arousal and sex. “But I get the feeling that you like it.”
Fuck , I did. I liked it so much I could hardly contain myself as I shifted, pulling her over me to straddle my lap. It was a tight fit on the van’s small futon bed, but we’d make do. Without missing a beat, Misely pulled her sweater over her head, and then we were fumbling to remove every last scrap of our clothing, tossing it haphazardly.
When we’d finally thrown the last sock to the side, she climbed back over me, her eyelids hooded and cheeks flushed pink. I was thankful to see the bruise that had marred her cheek over the last week had faded to nearly nothing, but the love bites along the length of her neck were bold and claiming.
I had done that. And unlike the other marks I’d given her, she hadn’t tried to hide them under her perfectly applied makeup. Even her hair was tied into a loose knot, leaving the hickeys on full display. I grew impossibly harder at the sight, and the next words that left my mouth were unbidden.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
Misely’s eyes lit as she looked down, her body crawling over mine. She settled her knees above each of my shoulders, giving me a perfect view of the perfectly pink flesh between her legs.
Lips quirking at their edges, she lowered herself down onto my mouth. “I do.” I would’ve laughed, thrilled with the return of her confidence, but I was lost to the taste of her. Sweeter than any candy. If I thought that kissing her was otherworldly, then sinking my tongue into her tight heat was catastrophic.
When her hips began to glide over me, taking her pleasure from me like it was owed to her, I had to grab my cock and squeeze tightly to stave back the orgasm that was already shooting like lightening down my spine. Over and over again she slid over my mouth, using me for her pleasure and I was gone to it. With every slide of her hips, she grew wetter, her moans overpowering the roaring winds outside. I kept my gaze fixed on her as I devoured her, lost in her ecstasy.
She came with a hoarse scream, her hips shaking so hard I had to grab them to keep her fixed to my mouth while she rode out her orgasm, my tongue diving inside her to relish every drop of her sweet release. I needed to have her, to be inside of her, to feel her everywhere.
Throwing her down, I crawled over her again, pressing wet sloppy kisses to her mouth. She groaned when I slid two fingers inside of her, stretching her and readying her to be filled. “Nothing has ever felt as good as you.” It was a near silent confession that I hoped she hadn’t heard, but if she had I didn’t give her time to respond before sinking into her in one harsh thrust.