Chapter 16 – Thomas
Chapter Sixteen
Thomas
Her hips nestle in my palms and I press her against the wall, wanting more than a kiss but knowing I can’t take it from her.
She’s not what I want. She’s too different.
She kisses too many men. She’s too wild.
She dances too much. She laughs too loud.
She’s American. She’s black. There are dozens of reasons why Clover Robinson is completely fucking wrong for me.
And then she says my name, her American accent all soft and high-pitched as she struggles to push air out of her lungs.
The strange energy between us lingers despite the pause after my first kiss.
Her hands press hard against my chest and I know she wants this to stop, but she doesn’t understand that I can’t fucking stop.
I knew I shouldn’t have come here tonight.
Bad news from home, a Halloween party to plan with Kit, and then the dreams about her. Ever since that night in the studio, I stay up all night with these horrible fucking dreams about hurting her. I know I can’t. I know I don’t really want to but… the dreams won’t stop.
“I can’t stop myself,” I murmur. “I’m sorry.”
But then she tilts her chin up before I kiss her and I tell myself that it’s just a kiss and it won’t hurt just to kiss Clover Robinson even if it will make everything mad and confusing and fuck things up between us massively.
I grab her face and kiss her again and she makes a soft little noise halfway between a whimper and a moan that stiffens my cock immediately.
I break apart from another kiss and my hand slips under Clover’s shirt.
She sucks in her stomach and regret floods my stomach.
I don’t want her sucking any of that in.
I want to touch her. I’ve watched her dance, moving her body and accentuating her curves.
I want to touch that body, not have it hidden from me.
I squeeze her hips more firmly and hold her against me before I kiss her again.
She can’t keep sucking her stomach in. Clover finally exhales, letting her body spill into my grasp as I kiss her and then move my lips to her neck.
It’s going too far, I know, but her lips are warm and raw from kissing already and I want to taste more of her.
She keeps her hands firmly pressed against my chest, not letting me get too close.
“You smell…familiar…” she whispers as my lips touch her neck. Yes. I smell familiar. I’ve come close to kissing you before.
I stop her talking with my lips and take her hands away from my chest, pinning them above Clover’s head.
She makes that whimpering moan again and every part of my body wants to stick my hands down her pants and feel her soaked cunt wrapped around my fingers.
My cock wants to escape my pants but… I can’t.
I pull away from her, just far enough that she can get free and she sticks her hands out again, looking away so her dreadlocks fall in a tangled mess around her gorgeous face.
“What are we doing?” she asks.
Does it fucking matter? That felt good. So good. I told myself I would resist the urge to touch her, the urge to do horrible fucked up things to her, but I’ve done the worst thing of all. I’ve lied.
“Ethics homework.”
“No,” she whispers. “We hate each other.”
I chuckle. What a Clover response.
“Yes.”
“We can’t… kiss.”
“You’re right.”
Not to mention I’m a sick pervert. I touched her. I could have hurt her. I help other men hurt her. I shouldn’t kiss her.
“What’s wrong with you today?” Clover says.
She won’t stop pushing me.
“Nothing.”
She knows I’m lying and I hate that I’m lying to her.
I don’t even know why. I could confess to her, but the words on the tip of my tongue won’t come.
I push my hair behind my ears. Words are hard.
Especially with girls. Especially with girls I hate, apparently.
Clover says we hate each other. I’ve done vile fucking things to her. I suppose I do hate her.
I still want to kiss her. I still want to take her to bed. I just can’t.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Sylvia hasn’t told you?”
It’s not that I don’t trust Sylvia, but I have a sister. I know they tell their best friends everything.
“Told me what? I don’t talk to Sylvia about you.”
I ignore the disgust in her voice. I don’t know what compels me to tell any of this to Clover Robinson.
There’s nothing about her specifically that says I should trust her.
I watch her plenty, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean I can trust her.
There are days when I truly think you can’t trust anyone.
I look at my mum and dad and well… there must have been trust there at one point.
It’s just too dangerous to throw it all on one person.
“I’m dealing with some shit.”
She scoffs. “What shit could you possibly be dealing with?”
Judging from her tone, she’s been party to the typical boarding college rumors about the family — that we own more property than anyone in England, that dad was so rich we didn’t grow up wiping our own arses, that our mansions are disgustingly decadent, that we have too many fancy dogs and dad bought his sons too many cars.
Just because we have the class to keep our problems to ourselves doesn’t mean we don’t have any problems. I stick my hands in my pockets, using my index finger to chip at the black nail polish on my thumbs. Fucking hell, why does she have the most intense eyes I’ve ever come across?
“Something from my past.”
“You won’t ever win awards for communication. We should… we should probably do the rest of this project via email. I’m going to go.”
“Wait. Don’t.”
Clover stops walking towards her things, but she gives me a puzzled look. Fuck. Did I frighten her off by kissing her? I certainly didn’t win her over considering she just said she hated me. She would hate me even more if she knew how close I’ve come to hurting her.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you to go.”
She smiles at me. For one fucking moment, Clover Robinson smiles at me. Then she shakes her head.
“You crazy, Thomas. I’ll finish the project. Just… don’t freak out about your past.”
“It’s not just that. Someone’s blackmailing me. I think.”
I sound so stupid saying it out loud. Why am I telling her this?
“Blackmail? What did you do that’s so dirty?”
She’s half-joking, because Clover is nearly always half joking.
“Nothing.”
“Oh fuck, you’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’ve had some experience with blackmail.”
Has she? Who would ever want to blackmail Clover Robinson.
“I see.”
“Keep your head up. It’s probably someone you know,” Clover says mysteriously. It’s not bad advice, but no one I know has even heard about Amelia.
“Thanks.”
“See you around, Thomas.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Why the fuck don’t I beg her to stay? Once she leaves, I flop down in the seat and bury my head in my hands.
I’ve gone and fucked it with her. Now the emails are getting worse and whoever’s sending them wants more from me than I’m willing to give.
I’m so fucked that I might have to go to Violet for help.
The last thing I want is to bring my sister into this.
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