Chapter 19 #2
“He didn’t get very far,” she whispers. “The police showed up because of some anonymous noise complaint. The cop recognized me and took me to the station. I gave a statement. Told them everything. And my father…made it all go away.”
My blood turns molten in my veins.
“His solution to the problem was to send me here until the rumors died down and the case they were working on was over. To protect his reputation and avoid the inevitable scandal.”
Her shoulders curl inward slightly and I tighten my hold on her hand, because I don’t know what else to do with all the rage burning beneath my skin.
How the fuck did I ever convince myself that keeping my distance was the safer choice, when she’s spent her entire life feeling unwanted and being punished for existing?
I’m even angrier at Lane now. Knowing what I know—knowing what she endured—makes every shitty thing he put her through a thousand times worse.
“I’m sorry,” I say. My voice is low and useless, but it’s all I have.
“It’s not your fault. It’s whatever.” She tries to smile but it dims under the quiver of her bottom lip.
“For what it’s worth…the why doesn’t matter,” I tell her quietly. “The only thing that matters is that you’re here.” I squeeze her hand lightly. “Fuck, now I really wish I’d broken a lot more than just Lane’s nose.”
That earns me a soft laugh as she bumps her shoulder into mine. “You did more than enough. I’ve never actually had anyone throw a punch for me before,” she murmurs.
“Sadie, I’m serious,” I say, tilting her chin up with my knuckles until she’s looking at me again. “If I’d known everything that night, the outcome would’ve been…a lot different.” My eyes flick between hers. “You don’t deserve any of it.”
Her gaze drops to my mouth, slow and unmistakable. When she looks back up, it feels like she wants me—wants this—just as badly as I do.
“Your turn,” she whispers.
My thumb finds the edge of her jaw, tracing the warm, soft line of her. Her breath stutters, a tiny hitch that goes straight through me. I lean in, her breath mixing with mine. My tongue sweeps over my lower lip and I wish it was hers.
“I want to kiss you.”
She tilts her head closer, and the tiniest inch between us feels infinite. “Me too.”
Fuck it.
I close the distance. There’s no thinking, no deciding, just surrender. My mouth crashes into hers, and her lips part for me. I thread my hands into her hair, tugging gently, and she melts against me, exhaling a soft and desperate sound.
The kiss deepens, slow at first, then hungrier. She shifts closer, swinging one leg over my hips until she’s straddling me.
My hands brush against her waist, shaking with the effort of not pulling her in too fast. But she moves—barely, subtly, a soft grind, like she’s testing my reaction. The slow roll of her hips drags a low groan from my throat.
My restraint detonates, shattering into a million tiny fragments.
I cannot resist her any longer.
My hands slide down the curve of her waist, roaming farther until I grip her ass, pulling her closer and pressing my hips up into her.
She gasps at the pressure, but it’s nothing compared to what’s happening behind my ribs—this explosive, spiraling need that makes me feel fucking nineteen again and seconds away from coming in my pants just from making out with a pretty girl.
But she’s so much more than that.
A whimper slips out of her—soft, but so goddamn needy—and then her fingers tug at my shirt, pulling it up, over my head, casting it aside. Her palms skim across my bare skin, exploring, learning, and something ignites so deep inside me it feels prehistoric, like I’m a fucking caveman.
An insatiable hunger. A feverish need.
She trails kisses down my jaw, my neck, nipping lightly, and I bite back a groan so rough it vibrates in my chest.
Finally. Finally. Finally.
And yet, it still doesn’t feel real.
I’m not ready to show her how much I’ve wanted this, but with how hard I am right now, it’s impossible for her not to feel just how deeply I crave her.
This is a bad idea.
But that doesn’t stop me from lifting her tank top over her head.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
But I slip my tongue into her mouth and claim her anyway.
She deserves better.
But I’m too fucking selfish to stop.
I curl my hand into her hair and tug, just enough to tip her head back, to expose the soft, vulnerable line of her throat.
I run my tongue down the column of her neck, slow and hungry, tasting every pulse and shiver. I follow the dip between her breasts, teeth catching on her skin just enough to make her arch into me, breath breaking apart against my ear.
A sound slips from her, a quiet and desperate plea, like she’s caught between want and restraint. She trembles, one hand fisted in my shirt, the other sliding instinctively between us, her palm pressing against me through my jeans.
She destroys me.
I want to give her everything.
I want to be her remedy and her destruction.
I hum against her flushed skin, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, then another—completely ravenous for another taste of her. When I graze her with my teeth, her fingers dig deeper into my shoulder.
“Tell me,” I murmur against her skin, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. “Tell me what you need.”
Her whole body goes still—not pulling away, not leaning in, just…frozen. A breath catches in her throat.
Fuck.
A cold thread of dread slides through the heat still roaring in my veins. Something’s wrong. I feel it before she even moves.
She pulls back, pushing away from me, her chest heaving. Her eyes widen, pupils swallowing the emerald of her irises.
Fuck. I went too far.
She slips out of my lap, tugging her rumpled tank back over her head.
I watch her, pulse still racing, noticing the way her hair falls across her flushed cheeks, the way her chest rises and falls.
I have a front-row seat for the moment the lustful fog clears and reality settles in the air around us.
“I didn’t mean—fuck. I’m sorry.”
“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “It’s okay. I wanted it too.”
Wanted. Not want.
Just another random moment of temporary insanity.
We’ve had so many almosts.
It’s always been me pushing her away. Drawing the lines. I thought I was protecting her from the inevitable heartbreak when she leaves, but maybe I’ve just been protecting myself.
Because this is only temporary.
When summer is over, she’ll get on a plane and go back to her life in California, and I’ll still be here—stupid enough to fall for someone who was never going to stay.
“What if…we made a pact?” Her voice is soft and hesitant.
“A pact?”
“Mhm.” She nods quickly, like she’s convincing herself at the same time. “Yeah. Yes, let’s make a pact.”
My pulse thumps. “What kind of pact?”
“A just-for-the-summer, no-strings-fling kind of pact.”
I cough, choking on air. What the fuck?
My eyebrows practically jump off my face. “No. You’re not a fuck-buddy kind of girl.”
She crosses her arms, defensive. “I’m sorry, weren’t you just saying how I’m not the kind of girl you thought I’d be?
It’s not…fuck buddies. It’s a fling. A summer fling.
Those are light. Airy. Cute.” She waves her hands, completely casual and unbothered.
“Calling it fuck buddies makes it sound so…filthy.”
I smirk despite myself. “Good sex is at least a little dirty. If we’re taking away all the feelings and emotions, that’s all that’s left.”
She tilts her head back and forth like she’s still considering this asinine idea. “What if we laid down some rules so that we’re both on the same page? Clear up any confusion about what this is and isn’t.”
“How do you manage to make the prospect of a…fling sound so formal?”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I just thought it would be smart to lay out our expectations. That way nobody is disappointed.”
“I wasn’t worried about you being disappointed.” I grin.
Her eyes widen and she smacks my still-bare shoulder with the back of her hand, but I see the hint of a smile peeking through.
“Hey, all I’m saying is that wouldn’t be an issue. It would be a very…mutually satisfying arrangement.”
“So you’re considering it then?”
“I didn’t say that. In fact, I’m pretty sure I already said no.”
“Well,” she says breezily. “You should think about it. Maybe it would help with all of”—she gestures vaguely at my face—“this.”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“Nothing. You have a lovely face. It’s the constant brooding and scowling that’s the issue. Perhaps a sex pact is exactly what you need, Wesley.”
“Ah, so now it’s a sex pact.”
She groans. “Can you not be difficult for, like, five minutes? I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”
I raise both hands in surrender, but inside, everything is coming apart.
Holy shit.
She wants this.
She wants this with me—even after everything.
She makes it sound so easy and simple. Nothing about her is simple for me.
I want her. I want her so badly my chest aches. But I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to cross a line that can’t be uncrossed.
Every warning flashing in my head can’t drown out how much I want her.
But this is her idea—and she’s not the girl I thought she was.
What if I say no and she asks someone else? I won’t survive another Lane situation.
She’s watching me, lips parted, eyes wide and waiting.
Fuck it.
This is either going to be a massive disaster or the greatest summer of my life.
“Alright,” I murmur. “I accept your proposal.”
“Really?” Her eyes light up and she bites into her lip.
I nod. “Really.”
“Okay. I think we should establish some rules and boundaries.”
“Naturally. I’m fine with whatever you’re comfortable with.”
She rolls her lips between her teeth. “Okay. That’s a lot of trust. What if I was really into pegging or CBT or something?”
“What’s CBT?”
She smirks. “Cock and ball torture.”
I nearly choke.
“Yeah, fuck that,” I breathe. “Okay, so maybe I have one or two hard limits.”
“Thought so. Okay, rule number one: This has to be a secret. I don’t want to disappoint Heath again, and there’s no point in telling anyone since it’s just a little fling.”
I nod in agreement. “That’s valid.”
“Rule number two: I think we should be exclusive. If you want to hook up with other girls, I totally get it, but—”
“No,” I growl before I can stop myself.
She blinks.
I clear my throat. “I mean, it’s not a concern. But okay. We’re exclusive.”
“Rule number three: We both reserve the right to call this off for any reason, and we have a firm expiration date set for when I leave.”
I ignore the twist in my stomach and force a nod. “Okay.”
“Rule number four: This should go without saying, but absolutely no falling in love. This is strictly physical.”
“That’s kinda what the no-strings part of being fuck buddies means.”
“Fling,” she corrects.
“Semantics.”
She rolls her eyes. “Do you want to add anything?”
I think about it for a moment before responding. “If at any point you’re uncomfortable or don’t want to do something, tell me and we’ll stop.”
Her eyes hold mine before she nods and whispers, “Okay.”
She blows out a breath, her gaze drifting toward the wildflowers swaying in the darkening field. The silence settles around us, gentle but heavy.
When the last of the sunlight disappears, the chill slips in, and I pull my shirt back on.
“So we’re really doing this?” she asks quietly.
“If that’s what you want.”
“I do.”
I look at her—really look—and something inside me lurches, raw and unrelenting. Irrevocable.
“Then yeah, Princess.” My voice drops. “We’re really doing this.”