17. Laura
17
LAURA
J ason’s fingers stayed locked around my wrist. His ironclad grip wasn’t something I could overcome, but I flailed to keep up with him as he hauled me up the stairs after him.
I just wanted to go.
To escape and run.
Seeing myself projected on the wall was too much. I’d come here just to see what it was like. My curiosity had been winning out ever since Jason taunted me about not having a life or knowing what it was like to live and have fun.
He was right about my not living. Just like Kristin was right, too.
I wasn’t living. I was passing through an existence of meeting others’ expectations, knowing I’d never measure up no matter how hard I tried.
When I first walked in, feeling like a trespasser who’d never belong, I felt exposed. Then, weaving through the crowds, seeking out Jason just for a chance to see him because he haunted my thoughts and dreams, I felt the stares on me and heard the laughter.
Coming into that other room where I was the star of the second-rate beauty contest, I couldn’t do anything but lock down into myself. That shell of numbness sheltered me as everyone laughed and cracked up.
Jason startled me, breaking the projector and shouting. He was supposed to laugh and join the others, pointing at me to further rub in the pain of humiliation.
But he didn’t.
Now, as he all but dragged me upstairs to what looked like his bedroom, he drew even more attention on me that I didn’t want.
Confused and desperate to keep up with this rapid turn of events, I tried again to pull my hand from his rough grasp.
“You were right, okay? Jason, you were right. I can admit it.”
He pushed me into the room, shaking his head and not even looking at me.
“You were right,” I repeated, anxious about how furious he seemed. “I’m not the kind of girl who parties. You were right when you pointed out that I don’t know how to have fun.” He slammed the door shut behind me, giving us privacy.
“I’m not having fun,” I stressed.
Shit. Wait.
He could take that as an insult, and with that volatile look in his eyes, like he wanted to roar and explode, I didn’t think it was smart to mock his party. I knew he took pride in being the legendary host on campus. If I ever made a comment about a dinner party not being fun, my mother would gasp. Stupidly, I was reminded of my grandma insisting that I take more of my mother’s Brussels sprouts even when I disliked them.
“I mean, not that this party isn’t fun. It should be. For other people. It looked like lots of people were having fun down there and?—”
“Shut up,” he warned, shaking his head again, then glaring at me.
I should’ve stopped, but I was on a roll. The adrenaline rush of being here tripped me into not knowing how to shut up.
“I’m not insulting you or putting down your party or?—”
“Shut up!”
I turned, letting my anxiety fuel me to the fight-or-flight instinct. As soon as I reached the doorknob to get out of here, he was there.
His big hand pressed flat on the wood until he slammed it shut again. In the same beat, he put his hand on my hip and spun me.
I let out a rough exhale. It was punched out of me as he shoved me back against the closed door.
Trapped there, with him breathing hard and staring at me so intensely, he kept me right where he wanted me. Gazing into the turbulent and stormy brown depths of his eyes, I swallowed hard and panted from this rush.
His hand stayed flat on the door and he lifted the other one to cage me in.
Oh, fuck.
I’d never been locked in place like this. Never forced to look at someone so dangerous and furious like him this close.
Now that he had me here like this, I warred with the dueling urges to stay here forever or flee.
“Jason, just…” I shook my head, willing my heart to slow down. It beat so fast he had to hear it. “Just forget about it. All of this. Okay? Please?” I licked my lip and furrowed my brow, wishing I could sound confident and smart like I had that one night when I called him pathetic.
As his gaze dropped to my lips, his nostrils flared and he stepped closer, further pinning me against the door. Heat flooded through me, and I refrained from a whimper.
“It was stupid for me to come here. It’s stupid of me to care about that beauty contest. And it’s not like they’re wrong.”
“Laura—”
“I know I’m not winning any contests. I’m not trying to win any contests, not for anything. Not for beauty or?—”
He growled, closing the slim distance between us to crash his scowling lips over mine.
The impact of his mouth colliding over mine burned through my veins. With a clarity that lasted just one second, I tried to accept that he was kissing me.
That this was happening.
This instant spike of desire and longing wasn’t part of another dream I didn’t want.
This was reality. He had his demanding lips crushing mine with so much hunger as he silenced me that I swore my brain short-circuited.
My nipples hardened. My pussy ached. Deep inside me, an immediate spell of lust took charge.
After the initial gasp of his shutting me up with a kiss, I arched up to accept his dominance. Parting my lips and kissing him back, I reveled in the heady sensation of his owning me like this.
A growl ripped from him as he tilted his head to kiss me deeper. I whimpered then, a sound of need, not fear, as I welcomed his velvety tongue into my mouth.
With the distant sounds of the party thudding in vibrations on the door he pinned me to, he lifted his hand to clutch my throat as he devoured me. His fingers didn’t choke me. It wasn’t painful, just secure. From the tips of his fingers to the meat of his palm, he kept his hand on me like he wanted to ruin me with this kiss.
And I was all for it.
I sucked on his tongue, needing to show him that I relished it all. The heat. The lust. The danger of kissing my bully.
Shock strummed through me, aware that I’d never, ever been kissed like this before. This was what I’d been missing with Ethan. This was what excited me about the future when I’d make time for a man in my life.
This.
Him.
He pulled back, giving us both a brief chance to suck in air. His eyes glittered, so dark and full of surprise as he furrowed his brow and stared down at me.
Keeping his hand on my throat, he urged me to reach up to kiss him again.
Fuck.
Yes.
Please.
I was lost. Drowning under the pressure of kissing him, I followed his lead as he growled and dove for more. He licked and sucked. Nipped and panted. Again and again, he kissed me with a brutal urgency, almost furious with me or himself.
“I don’t want to hear that fucking bullshit from your lips again,” he threatened before kissing me harder yet. Beneath the sting of his lips on mine, I was drugged and addicted.
“I don’t want you to say another goddamn word about your not being—” He slammed his body against mine, kissing me as he ground his erection over my stomach.
I clung to him, holding on to his muscled shoulders as he rubbed the proof of his attraction against me.
“Not another fucking word about your not being beautiful,” he demanded.
He lowered his hand that he had on the door to slide it over my side. Possessive and greedy, he spread his touch down until he grabbed my ass cheek. Hauling me toward him as he ground me into the door, he ripped his lips from my mouth.
“Don’t ever fucking say it again.”
I swallowed, desperate not to pass out. Shaking my head weakly, I stared at him and couldn’t guess whether I was arguing with him or telling him I wouldn’t belittle myself.
“Not beautiful?” he snarled before returning his lips to mine. He dug his fingers into my ass, clutching me with a slight bite of pain that made me ache for him even more.
“How the fuck can you think that?” he whispered angrily as he kissed along my jaw. “How can you fucking think that?”
I whimpered, unable to speak. All I needed was for him to never, ever stop.
“Look at this.” He lowered his gaze, prompting me to look down too to watch him grind against me. The tank top I chose to wear wasn’t too revealing, but with him moving against me, the fabric strained and showed more of my breasts nearly spilling out of my bra.
“Look at what you fucking do to me,” he growled, pushing his hardness toward me again.
He possessed me, body and mind. I closed my eyes as he kissed me again, wanting to savor every second of this all-consuming and overwhelming heat that blanketed me. I was lit up, inside and out, all on fire and charged to need him now.
As he moved his hand to the front of my shorts, rubbing my pussy, I damned the layers of my shorts and panties.
“Look at this,” he ordered. “Look at how fucking gorgeous you are like this.”
I rocked my head back against the door, and he chased me to plunder my mouth again.
But the second he shoved his hand beneath my shorts and panties, swiping his long fingers over my entrance and feeling how dripping wet I was for him, he backed up.
Suddenly depriving me of his wicked touch, he jerked back and glared at me.
My arousal shone and glistened on his finger.
But he scowled, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
The wetness from his kisses cooled on my lips, but it was the aching need that had my pussy pulsing with desire that shamed me.
What have I done?
What the hell am I doing?
Confused and uncertain of what could happen next, I reached for the doorknob and ran.
I dashed away, frantic to leave this party because I was so uncertain and intimidated by what I wanted to happen next.