Page 85 of Forbidden Lessons

So, yeah, when Kai calls me a fucking slut and wants to walk away like he’s dusting his hands of me…I get mad.

I get so mad, I don’t even know what I’m doing until it’s done.

Jerking his ankle, sending him sprawling to the grass, getting even more stains on his expensive white sweater.

Scrambling over to him on hands and knees like a crazy person.

Clawing at him. Possessed.

He probably thinks he looks so hot with his sleeves pushed up like that.

And he does.

He looks fucking gorgeous in white.

And that just makes me furious.

I think of every letter I sent that he never answered. How my heart would flutter when I got to the mailbox, and how my stomach would sink when I found it empty.

“Fuck you, Kai!” I wail in a strangled, choking voice. “I hate you!”

I think he was too surprised to react when I pulled him onto the grass, but now he’s coming back to reality.

His green eyes glitter with malice as he knocks away my clawed hands. “Stop!”

“Fuck you!” I don’t know if I’m sobbing or howling or what the fuck is going on with me. It feels urgent, raw, so fucking deep.

Likeinside my souldeep.

His arm comes up to block me, and I clamp down with my teeth. He tries to shake me off, yelling when I don’t let go.

I taste blood, can feel hair between my teeth. And that just makes me clench even harder.

“Jesus, fuck!” He kicks, rolls, our legs tangle. “Get off!”

Still I hold on.

It’s only when my back slams into something, and my jaw unlocks for a gasp of pain, that Kai can rip his arm free.

His face contorts with rage as he pushes to a stand, towering over me again.

Always fucking dominating.

It was a tree I hit. My fingers scrabble against the bark as I scramble to my feet so I can punch him, kick him, fuckinghurthim.

But he’s not waiting for me to attack anymore. He’s going on the offensive.

Kai grabs my hair and yanks my head up.

The pain is effervescent.

All I can manage is a whimper. My hands latch onto his wrist, the rest of my body following meekly as he slowly forces me to stand.

“Fuck me?” he whispers, his eyebrows darting up at the fucking audacity. “Fuckme?”

He twists his fingers in my hair, and I’m on my toes with a yelp. Tears leak out of my eyes, but if he sees them, he doesn’t fucking seem to care.

“Nah.” He laughs quietly. “Fuckyou.”

---