Page 48 of Dare To Fall

“Eli—”

“Don’t fucking Eli me.” I shove to my feet.

“Where are you going?”

“To do what I do best.”

He sighs but doesn’t stop me as I stalk across the room to where Arabella is sitting, alone, hunched over her food. I wrap a hand around her arm and drag her to her feet. Her drink spills, sloshing over the front of her top. I don’t stop, don’t speak, just drag her across the room to the sounds of catcalls and cheers from the watching students.

She struggles the entire way, twisting and turning in my grip. I ignore her, pulling her along beside me until I find the first available restroom. Pushing her through the door, I step inside, take a quick look around to make sure it’s empty, and twist to slam the lock, to stop anyone else from entering.

When I turn back, Arabella is glaring at me, fingers clenched into fists either side of her hips. I look her over.

“Want to hit me?” I lift my chin and tap it. “Right there. Take your best shot.”

Her swing is wild, and her fist glances off my jaw. I sigh, and grip her arm, bend it and then angle her wrist.

“Lock your wrist, tense your hand. Take your thumb out. If you leave it tucked under your fingers, you’ll break it.” I peel her fingers away and move her thumb. “That’s better. Now try again. Keep your wrist locked. And fucking aim, don’t just swing and hope.”

Her second punch is a little better, but still barely a love tap.

“Again.” I take a step toward her, she retreats. “Don’t fucking run away. Hit me.”

Her third attempt connects with my mouth and knocks my head sideways. I taste the coppery flavor of blood in my mouth, and smile. “Much better.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.” She swings for me again.

“I know.” I take another step closer. “Hit me again.”

“There’s no way you were acting.”

“I was acting, Ari.” This time when she throws a punch, I catch her wrist and twist it up behind her back, pulling her into my body. “Meet me tonight.”

“No. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

I dip my head to brush my lips over hers, leaving a smear of blood behind. “I’ll make you forget why you’re angry.” Adjusting my grip, I spin her so we’re both facing the mirror. My thumb wipes the blood on her lips, turning them red. “My blood looks good on you.”

I stroke along her jaw, down her throat, and slide a hand into her top, my eyes holding hers in the reflection of the mirror. Settling it over her breast, I squeeze, feeling her nipple harden against my palm.

“Look at the way you come alive in my arms,” I whisper against her ear.

My other hand finds the hem of her shirt. I pull it over her stomach, her ribs, and up until I uncover her breasts cupped in a lacy bra. My mouth tracks a line of kisses down her throat.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” I seal my lips around the pulse beating in her throat and suck, my tongue licking over her skin.

A sigh leaves her, eyes fluttering closed, and her head drops to rest against my shoulder.

“Touch me, Ari. Feel how hard you make me.”

She reaches backward, presses her fingers against my dick, and I groan against her throat. “I need your hands on me. I want your pussy sliding up and down my dick. Are you wet right now, Kitten?”

“Sin.” The nickname leaves her lips on a soft moan.

Turning her in my arms, I grasp her waist and lift her onto the countertop, then step between her thighs. I cup her jaw and tilt her head back so I can kiss her, my tongue slipping between her lips to tangle with hers. Her hands wind around my neck, her legs hook around my hips, and she pulls me closer so she can grind her pussy against my dick where it’s straining against the front of my jeans.

“When things get too much,” I whisper against her mouth. “Think about this. This is the reality, Ari. This is me, not the monster.”

“Open up!” Someone rattles the door and shouts, jerking us apart.

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