Page 14 of Buried Dreams

She stood there in front of me, and my hands came up to hold the side of her neck. “I love you, baby.” The words just came out without giving me a chance to stop them.

Her face went from shock to a smile. “Is that so?” she quizzed as she stepped closer to me, putting her hands on my hips. “Took you long enough.”

I chuckled. “Is that so?” I used her words against her. “I didn’t see you dying to profess your love for me.”

“I know how macho you are”—she tried not to laugh but failed—“and big and strong. How are you going to tell everyone else I said I loved you first?” she taunted, and she only stopped talking when I slammed my mouth down on hers.

The memory kicks me in the stomach, and I have to put my hand out to stop myself from falling to my knees. The cold bark on my fingers stings as I try to steady my breathing, feeling as if I just ran here from my house instead of driving here.

The sound of twigs breaking makes me look to the side, and I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. I blink a couple of times to make sure I’m not dreaming, or I’m having another memory I don’t want to have. Her head is down as she walks through the trees right to me. I push off from the tree and turn to face her.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I hiss, scaring her because she stops in her tracks, looking up at me. One of her hands goes to the middle of her chest, the other to her stomach as she looks up at me.

“Brock.” The minute she says my name, it’s as if she puts her hand into my chest and rips my heart out, squeezing it in the palm of her hand until the blood seeps out of her fingers, and the heart stops beating in her hand, rendering it useless.

“Don’t say my fucking name,” I hiss at her. She takes a step back, and I see her shoulders get tight, and I know she’s going to come back and fight with me.

“Trust me, I don’t want to say your fucking name,” she snaps and continues her steps toward the creek. “If I never say your name again for the rest of my life, I’ll be happy.”

“I bet you fucking will.” I stand here as she comes toe to toe with me. I can smell her perfume lingering in the air. My fingers beside my leg start to tingle to come up and touch her. “Surprised you remember this place.”

“Yeah”—she folds her arms over her chest, pushing up her tits even more—“and why the fuck is that?”

“I thought you would have forgotten this place,” I bark, “just like you forgot me.” I hate myself for saying the words, but they come out so fast I can’t take them back.

“Funny coming from you,” she says. “I wasn’t the one who forgot about the other person. You sure as fuck forgot about me the minute I left town.” She unfolds her hand and points it at me. “I was just a fucking memory to you.” She leans into me, and I move back so she’s not too close. “Since you were wearing someone else’s ring less than two months after I fucking left.” Her words feel like they’re pulled from the depths of her soul. The hurt there is so evident, but she doesn’t let her guard down. “So don’t fucking pretend my leaving hurt you.”

“Way I remember it, you left me. Cut me off.” The venom in my tone isn’t falling on deaf ears. Her eyes go to slits.

“Of course, you would remember it that way.” She shakes her head and turns to leave, when my hand comes out and grasps her wrist. The heat warms the coldness that’s been in my bones since she walked away from me. I yank her to me, her other palm flat against my chest.

We stare at each other for a full minute before it happens. I don’t know if I’m the one who bends my head or she lifts on her tippy-toes, but our mouths meet, and the kiss is as angry as it could ever be. Our tongues touch for a second before she bites my lower lip. My hand drops her wrist, and I wrap it around her waist and pull her to me. Lifting her off her feet, I turn her back to the tree. “I wish I never saw your face again.” Our noses are touching, and again, it’s that tug-of-war.

Her mouth opens at the same time my tongue slides in. My eyes close, and it’s as if I’ve reached euphoria. It’s better than any high I’ve ever had. It’s better than any buzz I’ve ever had. It’s fucking heaven and hell all at the same time. I hate she still has this effect on me. I turn my head to the side, the kiss not gentle at all. Instead, it’s a kiss filled with rage and anger. I push her deeper into the tree, her hands gripping my shirt in her fingers, pushing it up before scoring me with her nails all the way down my chest. The sting of it goes straight to my cock, which is pushed deeper into her. She lifts her leg to hook over my hip as I push my cock into her even more, and I swallow her moan. My hand goes to her leg, around my hip, finding it bare. The softness from it makes me move my hand up her leg until my hand is cupping her bare ass. I squeeze my hand so hard, I’m sure she’ll have my fingerprints as a bruise, but I don’t fucking care. Let her have it, let her fucking be reminded of me every single fucking day. Just like I’m sure to have the taste of her on my tongue. The more I kiss her, the more I can admit I missed her. The more I admit that, the angrier the kiss gets. “I hate you.” She leans her head back on the tree, her fingers gripping my sides so hard her nails are cutting into my skin.

“Yeah.” I press deeper into her. “I don’t think you hate me more than I hate you,” I hiss at her. “I hate you to the depth of my soul.”

“I hate that I loved you for as long as I did.” The pain of her words makes my head feel like it’s exploded. “I hate I loved you at all,” she repeats the words in a whisper. “I will always hate you.”

“Good. So you’ll still hate me after tonight.”

“I’ll hate you for the rest of my life.” That is the last thing she says before I cover the gasp that comes out of her mouth with mine. Her legs wrap around my hips as she pushes herself into me. It’s my turn to moan as her hands move to the waist of my jeans. Her hands are frantic on the button while my hand moves from her ass around to her hip, moving her thong to the side, the smoothness of her like satin under my fingertips. I let go of her mouth so I can open my eyes and watch her face. Her eyes flutter open, and our pants drown out the sound of crickets. Our eyes look at each other as I slide my fingers into her. Her wetness and heat make me almost come in my fucking pants. Her eyes flutter closed as she puts her leg down and opens them even more.

I was wrong before. This, this right here might be my very own kryptonite. Her hands unbutton my jeans and then the zipper echoes in the darkness. “This changes nothing,” she declares when she pushes the jeans and the boxers off my hips, my cock springing free. Her hand grips my cock, and I about hiss and come in her hand. I thrust my hips into her hands, feeling her softness on me.

“This changes nothing,” I repeat the words with tightness in my stomach, moving her skirt up to her waist and then sliding my fingers out of her. “It might make me hate you more,” I admit to her, picking her leg up and throwing it over my arm. “Or at least I fucking hope it will,” I growl right before I bend my knees and slam into her.

Chapter Eight

EVERLEIGH

“This changes nothing,” he repeats my words. My skirt moves up my leg as he slides his fingers out of me. I want to grab his wrist and pull him back, but my hands are busy pushing his jeans over his hips. My head is yelling this is a bad idea. My heart is telling me we might not be able to survive this. But my body, my body feels like it’s been awakened from a deep sleep and is finally able to feel. “It might make me hate you more,” he growls. I want his words not to hurt me, but I’ve learned over the years that you sometimes don’t always get what you want. “Or at least I fucking hope it will.”

I’m about to tell him I’ll hate him just as much, but all words are lost when I feel him slam into me. My back pushes deeper into the bark of the tree. “Fuck,” he hisses as he stays rooted inside me for a minute. My hands go to his bare arms and roam up while he takes his hand at my hip and moves it up, pulling my T-shirt up. His fingertips feel like they’re waking up every single cell in my body. He pulls down the cup of my lace bra and bends his head to bite my nipple, making me arch my back. I want to moan his name, but instead, I stay silent. “I fucking hate you.” He pulls out and then slams into me, filling me.

“I hate you more,” I pant out. “I hate you so fucking much more.” I have to close my eyes so I don’t watch him bend and suck my nipple into his mouth before biting it again. “I fucking hate you more,” I declare as he ravishes me. Over and over again, he pulls out and slams into me. He moves his head up so his forehead touches mine, and I move my face to the side so I don’t have to look at him. He could be another faceless man to me, except my body knows him. My body comes alive with him like it’s been the missing piece to make me whole. He buries his face in my neck at the same time I feel myself coming on his cock. He picks up his speed, and it feels like he’s going to fuck me in half. His cock is thicker than my body remembers, his thrusts slamming over and over again, grunting each time his cock is buried all the way. I can’t catch my breath when one orgasm rolls into another one before he bites my neck, plants himself to the root, and moans out his own release.

My eyes close even tighter as I try to steady my breathing, but his chest collapses on me. The bite of the bark sears into my back, and I’m sure it’s cut me at this point. But I don’t really care. His heat warms me like a cozy blanket after a bitter, cold day. I inhale deeply, and he finally dislodges his face from my neck.

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