Page 49 of Our Ruined Beginnings

“And you think that’s enough? You think one apology six months later makes up for what you’ve put me through?!”

“I know it’s not, but you act as if you’re the only one living in hell. As if you’re the only one this has affected.” Her eyes turn into glaciers as they lock on mine, and every single muscle in my body freezes at the pure devastation etched into her expression. “He was my best friend. I’ve been struggling too.”

Her words spark a fire inside me, sending heat coursing through my veins as I fight the urge to turn away—to hide from the rage and destruction that seems to leak from her pores, sinking into every inch of the room.

I want to bite back, to tell her she’s wrong … but I can’t.

That’s the one thread I’ve managed to avoid picking at this whole time. The thread that, if allowed, will unravel the careful walls I’ve spent months erecting in my mind. This whole time, I’ve warred with myself over what she’s saying. I know. Iknowwhat he meant to her, but that doesn’t change the factheractions took him away from us both.

But hearing it from her lips, the stark reminder of what she lost too… My chest heaves, and I press my hand against my throat, struggling to choke down the lump lodged there.

Harper sighs, pushing off the counter and stalking toward me.

For a moment, I think she’s going to stop, but she barely glances at me as she pushes her way past.

I should let her go. I shouldwanther to go. But at the last second, my hand whips out, curling around her wrist and spinning her until she’s backed against the doorframe, her eyes wide and cautious as they land on my face.

She says something, but I don’t hear her over the roar of blood rushing to my ears as I lean down, my forehead pressed against hers. I breathe her in, the familiar scent flooding through my senses and bringing a comfort I doubt either of us deserve, but the thought isn’t enough to stop me.

Harper

I don’t think he registers my words—not that it matters, because they die on my tongue as his lips forcefully claim mine.

He tastes sweet and salty; hatred, anger, and sorrow pouring out of him in this kiss, sinking into me, but I won’t back away. If anything, it makes me kiss him back with equal fervor, my arms folding around his neck as he devours me with his lips. It’s different this time, more explosive.

The first time felt romantic, thoughtful, even if we were both only pretending for the night. This, though—he has no problems showing the hatred that lingers stubbornly inside, and neither do I. It’s a battle.

“How do you do this to me?” he asks. It rips from his throat like he’s in pain, and I’m so sick of hurting him, me, everyone. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard; we made so much sense. It was meant to be Madden forever, and I hate that all I get from him now are these fleeting moments where he’s not strong enough to stay away, even though he wants to. So I let him kiss me with vehemence and aggression, and I lap it all up. Let’s be honest, I’ll take whatever he gives me at this point. The fact it’s backed by such passion lets me pretend this isn’t the worst idea in the world.

His large hands move from my waist to my ass, encouraging me to jump into his arms and wrap my legs around his hips. If last time was all sweet kisses and relishing in closeness, this time it’s fast and dirty, and I love it just as much.

He flattens me against the wall, grinding his hips between my legs and making stars flash behind my eyes. My body is a live wire, played masterfully and oh so effortlessly by him, and I arch into him with abandon.

When he drops his hands from under my thighs and steps back to let my feet drop back to the floor, I nearly whimper, but I don’t have time before he’s spinning me so his chest is pressed to my back, turning us both until I’m facing the counter.

Then he pushes me forward at the waist so I’m bent over the top, and even the murmured “stay” doesn’t piss me off. I barely register it, because his hands are at my hips, pushing my underwear down and the oversized T-shirt up until I’m completely bare to him.

“Is this all for me, Lily?” He groans as he traces along my seam and feels for himself how wet I am, pushing a finger lazily inside of me as I clench desperately around him.

“Please,” I blurt out, but I’m five seconds away from embarrassing myself and properly begging. I don’t need to, though, because he steps closer to me, and I feel the large head of his dick pressed teasingly against my entrance.

“Say my name,” he whispers, his lips against my ear, and I shiver in anticipation.

“Madden.” It’s very nearly followed by a scream as he thrusts into me in one hard, punishing stroke, but he clasps a hand over my mouth before much sound can escape.

“Hold on, baby,” is all the warning I get, and honestly, I think it only makes me wetter. Which is good, because Madden proceeds to fuck me senseless. He’s a man possessed, using long strokes that make him leave me completely empty one second and full to the hilt the next. It’s fast and carnal, and exactly what I need.

His hands grip into my hips, pulling me back to meet him as he thrusts into me and hitting just the right spot every time that has pleasure building steadily in my stomach. Something unintelligible falls from my lips, and Madden wraps his fingers around my throat, pulling me back slightly so he can kiss the side of my neck even as he flattens me to the marble.

“Shh, Harper. Don’t want to be caught now, do you?”

Involuntarily, I tighten around him, and he groans against my skin, his grip on my throat tightening deliciously and sending me straight over the edge into oblivion. It’s not long before he follows me over, his teeth clamping down on my shoulder as he keeps himself silent.

We stay like that as we catch our breath, me trapped between the solid surface and Madden’s warm body, and I cling onto the dream that this is us. But soon enough, he pulls away, slipping out of me as I wince slightly, and pulling his top off to clean me up roughly.

I brace myself, because this is it. The moment he turns back into an asshole. I’m sure he’s going to turn and abandon me again any second, and I’m working really fucking hard on building the walls up around my heart as quickly as possible to try and lessen the hurt I’ll inevitably feel.

Instead, he clasps my hand in his and leads me silently to his bedroom. I have no idea what to make of the way he moves us both to his bed, settling in with him cocooned around my back, but I’m too afraid to ask, sure that any words will break whatever spell he’s under and he’ll send me straight back to my commandeered room. I don’t want that. I want to continue lapping up the crumbs he offers me, even if I know for sure that every little moment will make the inescapable fall ten times harder.

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