Page 27 of Wicked Devotions: Part 2

“Enjoying the view?” His voice is gruff as he continues to land punch after punch.

“I am, yes.” I smirk at him. “I like you better when you’re not talking.”

He shoots a glare at me, but it lacks any real heat. His chest rises and falls deeply as he turns and stalks toward me. I don’t know what to expect. He tears the gloves that had been on his hands off and drops them unceremoniously as he approaches me. His eyes never leave mine, their deep emerald depths churning with warring emotions.

I suck in a breath as he reaches me and his fingers fist my ponytail, dragging my lips to his. The kiss is a brutal clash of lips, tongues, and teeth. I feel his anger in every stroke of his tongue and meet it with my own.

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?” His lips brush against mine with each word while he rests his forehead against mine.

My chest tightens at the frustrated desperation lacing his tone. I move my hands from his chest down his abs and then wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him closer. He lets his body sag into mine, either exhausted from the pent up worry or the violent way he unleashed it. I relish the feeling of holding him like this.

“I’m sorry.”

He leans back with an arched brow. “Are you really?”

“No.”

I miss his body heat as soon as he pulls away from me. I want to beg him to come back, to ignore the storm brewing between us. Instead, he walks away, picking up the gloves he dropped as he shakes his head and scoffs.

“Why do you have to be this way?”

“What way?”

“Obstinate. Impulsive. Contrary.” He spins back toward me. “Should I continue?”

I open my mouth to reply but drop my shoulders as I realize I don’t have an answer for him. There’s no reason for it. I can’t for the life of me figure out why I constantly find myself pushing his buttons. I’m not like this with anyone else.

He watches me try to find something to say but turns away with muttered words that I can’t make out. The desire to find something to say to ease his anger thrums through me, but something else pushes back. The thought that I’m not like this with anyone else.

It’s only him that makes me want to fight back.

“I’m only like this with you so maybe you’re the problem.” I stride toward him as he slowly turns back to me. “Have you ever, once in your life, looked in the mirror and thought to yourself why you draw reactions like this from people?”

“Oh, Angel, I know I’m the problem.” His lip curls into a smirk. “I’m an angry, stubborn asshole. An asshole who apparently cares more about your well-being than you yourself do.”

“I went with your dad. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

“Really? So your dad didn’t say anything to hurt you? It was just a nice, healthy father daughter chat?”

I press my lips together and look away.

“That’s what I thought. What’d he say?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s in prison and can’t hurt me anymore.”

“What’d he say? If it doesn’t matter just tell me.” He takes another step toward me, crowding me back toward the wall again.

He’s not going to let this go until I break. So I don the mask I wore for years, the proper daughter of a well-respected pastor answering questions softly and demurely. Once I’m sure it’s securely in place, hiding the pain behind it, I give him what he wants.

“He said that if he had known what a whore I was he would have loaned me out like he did my mother.” I hold Declan’s gaze while the words fall from my lips.

His nostrils flare as he drags a deep breath into his lungs. Rage billows off him, tainting the air with a palpable violence. He blinks as if trying to clear his eyes but never moves them from my face. I can feel his emotions like they’re my own, and I know he’s on the precipice of erupting.

Instead of letting him hurt himself or damage something, I jump into his arms. Even caught off guard, he easily catches me. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his.

He palms my behind as he kisses me back with the same fervent enthusiasm. His body is slick with sweat, and a groan rumbles from his chest when I break away from his mouth and press open mouthed kisses down his neck. My tongue flicks out, loving the taste of salt from his skin.

I cling to his body as he drops to his knees on the mat, careful not to let me slip. He lowers me until my back meets the floor and then his hands begin their exploration of my body. I reach down and pull my shirt over my head, no longer concerned about hiding my body and scars from him. From any of them.

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