Chapter Nine
Theodore
I’m fed up with this woman running her mouth.
Seven weeks.
I had seven weeks of quietude, but now she’s back to irritating the living hell out of me, distorting every word with her I’m-a-fucking-queen accent.
Her eyes widen as I swallow the distance between us in two, quick strides.
At the last moment, she holds up her little fists that wouldn’t dent a piece of bread.
She can’t be serious. I’m not going to fight her with my fists.
I take her with my mouth. The instant our lips meet, she sucks in a breath so big I’m shocked her tiny lungs hold that much air.
Anger boils in my veins. I need to stop. I’ve made my point—she doesn’t want this. She can’t want this. Why the hell doesn’t she move? Push me away. Slap my face and tell me to fuck off.
The warm body I can’t tear my fucking mouth from falls limp as my hands cup her face.
This is by far the dumbest thing I have ever done.
Her hands cover mine, clawing into my skin like she’s trying to release my grip on her, but her hungry mouth begs for me to keep going.
Why is she kissing me back like she’s trying to crawl inside of me?
I hate that her taste quenches something hidden deep in the dark shadows of my soulless being that’s been starving for so long. I hate that her warm touch feels like a jagged knife stabbing the pain I’ve tucked away for the day when I can avenge it.
If we don’t stop, she could awaken something that cannot be brought to life. Not ever.
I hate Nolan for planting her in my world. I hate this life.
I really. Fucking. Hate. This. Life.