Page 65 of The Rebel

I want this all the time.

I want him all the time.

Not just because of how he makes me feel, like no other man can ever fulfil me this way, but because I deserve this.

I deserve him, no matter how damn unworthy he thinks he is.

His mouth covers mine in a soft kiss that defies the way he’s pounding into me. In and out. So hard. So good. Over and over until I’m climbing again, winding higher and tighter, ready to come apart.

My thighs tremble and he changes the angle by bending his knees a little. It’s enough to push me over the edge as I groan into his mouth. It drives him a little nuts as he thrusts into me so hard I’m now standing on tiptoes, my head clunking the wall.

I don’t think it registers because he’s devouring me with his mouth and a second later he comes, wrenching his mouth from mine to stare at me like I’ve given him the greatest gift.

It’s disarming, the intensity of his stare. I can’t get a read on it and as we stand there, with him still inside me, our bodies slick with sweat, our chests heaving with the effort of dragging air into our lungs, I don’t know what confuses me more. His fearful expression while his eyes are adoring and tender, or my terror of discovering that in following my heart, I may have lost him regardless.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hart

I’m hanging onto sanity by a thread.

I never should’ve allowed Daisy to lead me astray.

Fuck, I sound like some naïve kid. What a joke. From the moment I laid eyes on her at the airport in Melbourne I wanted her with a ferocity that shakes my belief system to the core.

I deliberately chose a hotel near the Cross so we could walk to the skate ramp afterwards. But now that the time has come, I’m reluctant. I’d rather stay in this hotel room forever.

Which is enough to propel me out of bed, into the shower, and out onto the street faster than I can blink.

Daisy knows I’m running. She hasn’t called me on it because she’s too high on loved-up endorphins. But she will, and I’m dreading it, the moment I finally reveal my true self when she’ll be let down like all the rest and she’ll bolt.

I’m counting on it.

‘Is it far?’

‘No.’ I’m monosyllabic and have been since we left the hotel on foot five minutes ago.

‘Do I get a clue about this great revelation?’

‘No.’

‘A man of few words. I like it.’

I shoot her a scathing glare and it bounces off her like the rays of sunshine glinting off her hair. It’s been a long day and dusk will fall soon but she looks as fresh as a…well, as a daisy. Shit, even my thoughts are turning corny.

‘Does nothing I say faze you?’

‘No.’ Her cheeky grin is infectious. ‘There. How do you like a one-word answer?’

‘Love it.’

‘Liar,’ she says, and takes my hand. I let her. While I want to drive her away permanently, if I can make this as painless as possible for her, I will.

We round the corner, walk another block, and we arrive at a grungy skate ramp tucked into the back streets of Australia’s seediest suburb, renowned for its pimps, hookers, and drugs. King’s Cross always draws a crowd, from curious tourists to bucks’ parties looking for a good time. But its faux glitz hides a multitude of sins and I’ve seen them all.

The kids that hang out here are hiding from something or running from something or both. I was.

We stop on the outskirts, behind a half-collapsed chain-link fence. Not much has changed. There’s a rectangular patch of cracked concrete to the left, with one basketball hoop at the far end, and a bunch of ramps of varying heights to the right. Kids cluster around both ends. Some are on skateboards, some are passing a basketball back and forth, all wear the same wary expressions with darting eyes and permanent scowls.

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