Page 122 of Keepsake

Holding onto him, one arm around his back and the other resting on his chest, he moved us to the locker room, the crowd parting as we passed.

No one stopped us, no one asked anything of him.

We moved in eerie silence until he locked us in and lowered me gently to my feet.

Out of breath, I paced, thinking about cleaning him up, but I halted to a stop when he said, “Logan.”

“You’re hurt.” I swallowed.

“I’ll survive.” He dismissed his own limitations.

He was stabbed today. And yet he didn’t even spare the dripping blood a glance. Maybe he was running on adrenaline. Maybe he was running on revenge. Either way, he was stalking toward me, his eyes full of hunger, and he didn’t stop until he had me against the lockers.

“Tell me you want me,” he commanded.

It was laughable. Wanting him was all I did, even when I shouldn’t. When made no—

He captured my chin before I kept shaking my head.

“You want this because you’re just as broken as me, Logan. You saw it. You try so hard to be perfect because you know if they get to see the real you, they will see the broken little girl. But I get you. I can take care of you. I don’t mind the parts that are cracked because they match mine.”

His mouth hovered over mine, his hand slowly making its way from my chin to my neck. His fingers closed loosely around it, enough for me to take a big breath and shatter when he asked again, his voice raw, low.

“So, tell me, Jefa. Tell me you want me as bad as I need you.”

I nodded first, my hands holding to his forearms. “I want you.”

His mouth descended on mine before the growl even left his lips. I dug my nails into his arms, pulling him to me, needing him closer, as close as I could get him.

I spent my whole life trying to be something I was not. Wrong, broken, needy, and full of anxiety, that was all I could give. But he saw it, and he thought it was enough.

My scars and his. My sadness and his guilt. We intertwined, growing impossibly close together as he kissed me hungry and fast, nipping my bottom lip, all-consuming.

His hand fell to my waist, and with one fluid move, he brought me up and locked me between the lockers and his body.

“I’m going to fuck you here, fast and hard. We can finish slow at home, ok?”

Home.

“So, you’re parking inside?”

He chuckled, his forehead resting on mine. “Yeah, I’ll park inside.”

We watched one another, a small smile playing on our lips. And then he kissed me like I belonged to him and only him. His rough hands snaked under my dress and up to knead my breast, playing with a nipple. I cried out in his mouth. I took his bottom lip in a bite when he played for too long, driving me wild.

His dark chuckle made my toes curl.

Alvaro didn’t even bother to remove my panties. Under my dress, his fingers went up and down my slit, taking a whimper out of me before he moved my underwear to the side, his forehead dropping to the locker behind me. He took a sniff from my neck and followed with a bite.

“You always taste like mine, nena,” he whispered in Spanish.

My fingers flexed, carving on his skin. He covered his mouth over mine the same moment he thrusted, groaning when he made himself at home. He held us together, my knees turning to liquid, my voice going hoarse again as he buried himself to the hilt and took me.

Tonight was his night. He took, and I gave. He was right. I was his from the second we met.

I threw my head back. Alvaro’s hands controlled our movements like I weighed nothing. His chest on mine, his mouth on my ear. “You feel so good, Logan. I’ll be fucking you just like this for the rest of your life.”

My palm reached for his cheek. “Yeah?” I asked.

---