Page 92 of Always Be an Us

"I don't want to be a burden."

"A burden?"

"Yeah. It's not like we're dating or anything," she says. "You shouldn't have to take care of me and my drama. So I called the police instead."

It's not like we're dating or anything.

Oh, the bitter irony.

Of course. It was what I implied to her, after all.

And the gentle matter-of-fact tone makes it worse.

And the very worst part is that this is all my fault. I made her feel like she was a burden with my callousness.

"You could never be a burden to me, Emma," I whisper. I don't have the words to make it better, or to make her understand just how much she has come to mean to me, so I lean in and kiss her instead.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Emma

My mind and soul whirl as Declan kisses me. He picks me up effortlessly by the waist and places me on the counter by the sink. I wrap my hand around his neck accepting the ferocity of his kiss, even though I’m not sure what’s going on.

All I know is that something about this kiss is different from all the other ones.

There’s an edge of desperation to it, as if he’s fighting with himself. I’m riding the same edge too. Because at the back of my mind, I still feel the fear that pumped through me when I got to my house and saw it destroyed.

Someone broke into my home and destroyed our possessions.

It's crazy to think about, especially given how paranoid I was sleeping alone there.

A part of me assumed that my fear had just been childish and foolish. Perhaps some leftover trauma from living in not the safest part of California and experiencing multiple break-ins.

But this is happening here in my own Laketown, a place that I've always called home, a place where I know pretty much everyone. That added an extra sting that made everything so much worse.

I was thinking about it the whole way back, about who could have done this. I was thinking about it in the bathroom too, before I spaced out.

'Was' being the operative word. I'm not thinking about it anymore.

Right now, I'm not thinking about much but the press of Declan's heated lips on mine, and the hot brush of his tongue.

The taste of him drowns all the bad thoughts out, and I can only focus on the way he makes me feel. Which isreallygood andreallyhot.

His skin feels like it’s boiling under my hands as he makes sounds in my mouth. I can feel the heat of his hand on my waist through the shirt. Pretty soon, he sweeps that out of the way too, his touch complete on my skin making it feel like a billion bees are buzzing underneath it.

And then suddenly he drives my thighs wide open, stepping in between them and pressing his erection roughly against my pussy.

It’s my turn to moan in his mouth.

It’s my turn to press against him wildly and kiss him like I know no bounds, like an animal. But then he’s tearing his lips away, his hands hastily trying to peel my pants from my skin, his hot lips on my neck.

"Dad?"

Everything freezes. It takes a second for my mind to reorient to my surroundings and I realize that I’m in the bathroom on the sink. The sound is coming from the other side of the door and it sounds like Amelia.

Shit.

My panicked eyes meet Declan's much steadier gaze. His face is grim, but desire still swims in his eyes. Somehow, he still has the presence of mind to call out.

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