Page 23 of Atlas Uncharted

My hands found his shirt, clinging to it, pulling him closer, hating him, and wanting him all at once. He tipped his headdown and met my parted lips with his. I turned my head, refusing to give him that victory.

His hand found my throat, his fingers curling around it with just enough pressure to make me obey when he ordered, “Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to disappear this time.” His tone, his grip on me, was so heated and possessive.

I tried in vain to slow my pulse. Face balled up.

“Stop pretending you don’t want this.” His deep baritone bounced off the walls.

“I should’ve picked you,” he confessed.

“But you didn’t,” I whispered back, gasping as he started to move.

I tried my best to disconnect from what was happening, but it felt too good. I fucked him back, rolling my hips, like matching his stroke might make it all make sense.

His grip on my throat tightened as he leaned into me. “We feel so good together.”

I wished I had known. I would have said fuck Ashlen if I knew him inside of me would feel so good. So dirty and wrong and absolutely fucking perfect.

He began to move faster. Going deeper.

“Uhhh,” I panted, as my head fell back against the cool mirror. “Yesss. Harder.”

Wetness slipped from my pussy, slicking the inside of my thighs.

His hand fell from my neck, then both locked around my hips as he dragged me to the edge of the sink, until there was no space left between us, forcing me to take him deeper.

The sensation curling in my gut, too much to hold on to. It exploded, warming my entire body.

When we came, I damn near sobbed.

Speeding up the pace, he fucked me through my orgasm, slamming into me until his back stiffened.

“Fuck, Ki,” he groaned.

I felt him cum inside me. His fingers dug into my hips.

He slumped against me, breathing heavily. His forehead pressed to mine.

The air was thick with the scent of sex and regret.

“You kept this from me,” he murmured. “You made me wait. You punished me.” He made it sound like me doing so was ridiculous. Like I was supposed to what—fuck him while he called someone else his forever. While I stood at the edge of his life, watching him give her his all. “We could’ve been everything,” he said, voice low, like he was confessing something sacred. “You and me—we could’ve had forever if you hadn’t pushed me away.”

“I had to. You chose her,” I snapped. “I didn’t make you do that.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me. “I thought I was supposed to. Thought it was for the best.”

“It was, which is why you earned every second of my silence. Every mile I’d put between us,” I spat. Yes, I was bitter.

Everybody in my life had buried me in silence, but still I managed to bloom in the shadows. But I was mad.

We stared at each other for a long moment.

My head suddenly started throbbing, and my mouth felt like it was full of sand.

Then I hit him.

I swung. Hard.

Fist to chest. Once. Then again.

---