Page 50 of The Sound of Us

Skye had a big heart, a soft heart. I could see the sympathy in her face. I could see her pain. She took a step toward me, and I held up a warning hand. I didn’t deserve what she was offering. I didn’t want her words or her touch or even the sound of her voice. I wanted to retreat to the shadows and get swallowed by the darkness.

“What was her name?” she asked softly.

“Sasha.” It fucking broke me, that question. It destroyed me, that question. It told me I’d finally been seen. So why wasn’t she running away?

“Why are you still here?” I shouted. “Why didn’t you go with everyone else? Why don’t you go back to the bar… to Ethan? Or are you so desperate that you came here because you thought I was a sure thing?” I regretted the words the moment they dropped from my lips, even more when pain flickered across her face.

“I came here because I could see you were hurting. I was trying to be your friend.”

“I don’t need friends,” I spat out. “I don’t need you. Just… leave.”

Skye turned and stumbled into the hallway. I heard the hitch of her breath, the fading sound of her footsteps, the rattle of the handle as she unlocked the front door.

My hands curled into fists as tight as the band that seemed to be squeezing my heart. Could I be more of an idiot? She’d come to support me and I’d hurt her. She was the best thing that had ever walked into my life, and I’d pushed her away.

“Skye. Wait.” I ran down the hallway, catching her just as she pulled open the door. “Don’t go.” I came up behind her, wrapped one arm around her chest and pushed the door closed with the other. “Please.”

She shuddered in my arms, and I pressed my forehead against the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t about you.”

For the longest moment she didn’t speak. I could feel her chest heave with every breath as she stayed motionless by the door.

I kissed her hair, brushed my lips along the slim column of her neck. “I need you,” I whispered, gently turning her. “I want you. Please stay.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE“I Wanna Be Yours” by Arctic MonkeysSkye

I want you.

I wanted a boy.

I need you.

Can we send her back?

Dante’s words sparked something inside me. I spun around to face him, my back up against the door.

“Skye…” His face was creased in pain, cheek bruised, temple bloodied.

“I can’t believe you would say what you said.” I slapped him, hard, across the face before he grabbed my hand and slammed it up against the door. Far from being alarmed, a thrill of excitement shot through my veins as his steel gaze held me in place. I wasn’t afraid of him, this broken, hurting man who had a protective streak a mile wide, because I was broken, too.

When his mouth slammed down on mine, all those feelings coalesced into liquid desire. Too much. Too intense. Light and dark. Hard and soft. Everything inside me embraced it, reckless and wild.

Dante grabbed my free hand and pinned it with the other over my head. My back arched to accommodate the stretch, my breasts pressing against his chest, sending a wave of heat through my body.

I heard a creak, the sound of footsteps, a howl, and then the first beats of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” filled the station.

“No one else is here. I have pre-recorded shows for emergencies,” Dante said in answer to my unspoken question.

“Is this an emergency?”

Dante parted my legs with his hard thigh and ground his hips against me, letting me feel the steel of his cock beneath his fly. “It is most definitely an emergency.” His mouth came down on mine again and I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but feel.

He was ruthless, relentless; hands, mouth, fingers everywhere. I sucked in a desperate breath, drawing in the scent of him. Sweat. Whiskey. Autumn leaves. It hit me in the belly, stirring something deep and dark that uncurled without warning.

I moaned my desire, and he spun me around, pushing me up against the cold, hard door. “This shirt…” His fingers trailed down my spine beneath the strings that kept it together. “Has been driving me crazy. Do you know what it does to a man to get a glimpse of something he shouldn’t see?” He unhooked my bra and slid his hand under my shirt to cup my right breast in his warm palm.

“So soft.” His rough fingers pinched my nipple, sending a shower of sparks through my veins.

Need sliced through me, hot knives of lust that threatened to consume everything that I was. Could I do this? Could I strip off everything and show him my scars in the light?

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