Page 50 of Bad Kind of Love

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Becca

Two days passed since mine and Wes’s kiss and I still felt the tingling sensation across my lips. Every now and then, I’d brush my fingertips over the top of them, trying to remember the feeling of him, but I never could get it just right.

I went to bed that night and closed my eyes, hoping to replay the kiss in my head. I wanted to savor the memory, the way his lips brushed against mine softly, like butterfly wings, and the way he caressed the back of my neck as he tasted my mouth. It was a dream worthy kiss that any girl would swoon over for days, but I guess I wasn’t like the other girls.

Mr. Fitz entered my fantasy, wreaking havoc on my memory. His dreary eyes clashed with mine, and a hurricane of emotions flooded my system.

Wes was gone, the air in the room shifted and Mr. Fitz’s frame loomed over me.

“Where’s Wes?” My voice cracks as I peer around the living room for any sign of him. It was like he disappeared out of thin air.

“Gone.” His hungry eyes trace down my body causing me to pull the blanket further up my chest.

“He was just here?” I snap angrily, glaring hard into Mr. Fitz. Dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, his hair was hanging down, falling in waves over his shoulders.

“Well, now he’s gone.” He grips onto the back of the couch, leaning the upper half of his body down towards me. My body instantly recoils away from him, surprised by his boldness. “Don’t tell me you're scared of me now?” He arches a brow.

Taken aback, I shake my head. “The devil doesn’t scare me.” I admit, zoning in on his lips.

His mouth lifts in amusement. “Am I the devil?” He cocks his head to the side, revealing a set of sparkling white teeth. “Because if I am, I’m sure you could have come up with something better than that.”

Confused, I watched closely as he dropped his head lower, so we were now at eye level. “What’s worse than the devil?” I ask in a low mumble.

The dark specks in his eyes seemed to morph into something devious, a dingy color of black that made him appear unhuman. My heart began to race, and my mind began to swirl with questions.

“I am.” He growls.

His hand drops from the couch and I watch in fascination as he reaches out for me. It almost appears like he wants to grab the blanket that's over my chest, but the minute I feel his cold fingers brush against my neck, all the air leaves my body.

Speechless, I sit there frozen in place, while his whole hand wraps around my neck. My eyes bulge out as I wait for him to squeeze, to take my very last breath, but the moment never comes. His breathing shallows out and his lust filled eyes greedily take in my vulnerable state.

I don’t tell him to stop.

I don’t push him away in disgust.

I wait patiently for his next move.

I could sense he had dark desires that he stowed away inside of him, and right now, they were ready to come out and play.

My heavy breathing matched his, and he seemed to notice the sudden intrigue in my eyes. “Keep lookin’ at me like that O’Connor and I might never let you go.”

My heart jumped at his words, because at that moment, I didn’t want him to let me go. He was finally beginning to see me, and I was finally seeing the real him.

Dropping my gaze to his lips, I start to wonder if he tastes differently than Wes. If he’d move his lips in the same way or if it would be an entirely different sensation. But I had a feeling he’d be nothing like Wes.

My tongue darts out, wetting my dry mouth and Mr. Fitz…. Jack catches the movement.

“What did I tell you?” He pulled me back hard and my back was now flush with the couch, while my head was caged in with his hand still wrapped around my neck.

His eyes peered down at me while I stared up, eager for his lips. My back began to arch off the couch but Mr. Fitz held me in place. A snarl ripped through his chest as I tried to wiggle out of his hold, and he quickly moved his other hand onto the back of my head, tugging hard onto my hair.

“You wanna know the real me?” He mocks inches away from my face. “Here I am, angel.” He jerks on my hair causing a moan to slip from my lips.

The ache between my legs was throbbing, desperate for his touch. His roughness was intoxicating, and I wanted more.

“Becca?”

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