Chapter 13 – “Talk” - Hozier #2
She must’ve heard the slam of my door and the shower. She must know I’m home now. Though I’m not sure she realizes I’m standing right behind her as she moves to the soft music, dipping pretzel sticks directly into a jar of peanut butter while the kettle on the stove finishes boiling.
My cock throbs in my sweatpants as I stare at her.
“I know you’re standing there, Augustus,” she says nonchalantly, a catlike purr to her tone that boasts no trepidation.
She’s riding a post-orgasm high and has no idea that I heard her while she found it.
“Do you not own a pair of fucking pants?” I mutter, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a soda from the top shelf.
“I didn’t think you’d be so offended.” She laughs snidely. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
She’s like a demon. No goddamn mercy, torturing me with her lush body, her endless eyes, and her siren-song of a voice.
“I’m surprised I still have such an effect on you, considering you hate me now,” she murmurs. I can’t tell if she intended for me to hear it or not.
The kettle whistles, and as she takes it off the stove and pours her tea, I slam the fridge door. “I don’t have to like you to—” I stop myself, realizing the comment I’m about to make can’t lead anywhere good.
Spinning on my heel, I intend to leave the kitchen, but the rattling chime of ceramic on quartz has me halting. Elena stands beside me, gaze narrowed as she leans over the steaming mug on the counter in front of her. “No, please go ahead and finish that sentence.”
There’s a taunting tone to her sultry voice, and a challenge inside her fuck-me eyes that screams show me rather than tell me.
My fingers flex, flesh blazing with need to bend her over that counter and show her exactly how I feel about her attitude, her bare legs, and the way she moans my name.
I thought we’d had a moment a few weeks ago, some brief unspoken understanding of where we stand. The pain we may have mutually caused, the blame and guilt we both carry, and the silent agreement that neither of us can be asked to hold the other’s burden.
I don’t understand her sudden insistence on messing with me. It was a broken girl I allowed into my home, whom I offered that room, but the ferocity standing in front of me now is all too familiar to the spitfire I fell in love with.
Though, I can’t help the deep satisfaction that rushes through me at seeing that spark in her, even if it’s been ignited by her instincts to drive me to the brink of fucking insanity.
Regardless, my fractured soul must be spared.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
I give her a once-over, forcing a look of boredom on my face before I pass her. Our shoulders brush briefly, igniting flames across my skin.
She lets out a breathless laugh. “Everyone thinks you’re so soft and fragile, that I’m crazy and reckless...but I know you better.” That has me pausing, and she waits a beat before continuing in a faint voice, “Deep down, you’re just as spiteful as I am.”
Spiteful? When she barreled back into my life in need of rescue, I did that.
When she showed up on my doorstep drenched in rain, I offered shelter.
I allowed her to wreck my heart and soul until I was nothing but shattered fragments of a human being, and still, I opened my door for her when she came knocking after years of silence.
I’ve given her every piece of me, and it seems as if that’s still not enough.
Those flames across my skin spread to my head and my heart until I’m raging. If she wants my spite, I’ll give her that too.
I whip around and step in front of her. She arches her back against the kitchen counter, looking down at the place my chest now presses into her crossed arms. I grip her chin, forcing her head upward until that deep brown gaze is locked on mine.
“You say that like you want me to show you how spiteful I can be. You say that like you want to be punished by me, Elena. Is that what you want?” My voice comes out a near growl.
I’m at my breaking point with her fucking games, reaching the limit of her teasing, unable to stop myself from throwing it back.
Her lips pout, eyes erupting with challenge as those long lashes flutter, and her pert nose scrunches in vexation. She’s so goddamn beautiful it fucking aches.
“Go fuck yourself.”
I smile, knowing that’s the response she offers when she’s been cornered, when her clever comebacks run dry.
It’s what she does when she’s flustered and bested by her opponent.
“Like you did earlier? Your toy between your legs when it was my name you were moaning?” A flash of surprise in her eyes gives her away, though she tries to quell it.
“I got home early, and your room is right above mine.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I…” Her lashes flutter as she looks around the room, anywhere but at me. “I was thinking about someone else.”
“You’re a terrible fucking liar.” I laugh.
“You know how I know you’re lying, Elena?
” My hand still on her chin, I turn her head again, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“Because you say my name differently when you’re coming.
It’s breathier. Raspier. Deep. It’s fucking primal.
” I drop my mouth, allowing my breath to skate across her cheek as I purr, “You don’t say anyone else’s name like that. ”
I tilt my head, my nose just brushing against hers as our mouths align.
We’re close enough to share the rapid breath leaving our lips, and if I stood still, I’m positive I’d be able to feel the tandem pounding of our racing hearts.
Her gaze rapidly flutters between my lips and my eyes, and I can see the desperation building in her dark irises.
I lift my thumb, brushing it across her bottom lip, savoring the feel of its softness. “I see the way you still tremble beneath my touch.” I watch her mouth part in anticipation as I whisper, “But you’ll never feel it again.”