Page 37 of Resist

“I don’t want to be your friend either,” he states abruptly, and then I’m yanked around, his lips crushing to mine. He pulls away when I don’t react, searching my eyes before he carries on. “I never wanted to be your friend either. Fuck the cameras, and fuck what they want. I want this. I want us. I’m not letting you go.” He cups my face as his lips press to mine again. I don’t respond, so he bites my lip, making me hiss, and then he sweeps his tongue into my mouth, kissing me deeper, and I finally wake up. I push him away, and he stumbles backward, his lips stained with my blood as I lift my hand to my mouth.

“Don’t,” I whisper as I feel the cut there. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“I meant every single word.” He tilts his chin up as he stares at me. “I’ve always wanted you. I’m sorry I was scared. I’m sorry I was too afraid to admit it or give in. I’m sorry I hurt you while I tried to figure it out. I’m so fucking sorry that loving me hasmade you this way, but I’m not sorry that you love me. I’m not sorry that you want me. I want you, Fox, more than anything in this world. Why do you think all my hookups are blonde? It was as close as I could get to you. You’re all I see and all I need. I can’t sleep without your arms around me. I can’t sing without your eyes on me. I can’t perform without your support. I can’t live without you, and I don’t want to. I stayed away for so long so I didn’t destroy our band with my selfish desires, but if the alternative is losing you forever, then I’ll be selfish.” He steps up to me, covering the distance.

“I want you, Fox. I love you. I fucking love you so much. I tried to forget you so many times and move on in faceless bodies, and I regret every one. I regret everybody that has ever touched me that wasn’t you. They were never you. No one is you. I don’t want to be your bandmate or your friend. I want to be your everything. I want to be your obsession. I want to be the only thing you see. I want to be yours.”

It’s everything I’ve always wanted to hear. I can barely believe it, so I stare, wondering if it’s just my imagination. “Say it again.”

His smile is slow. “I want you. I need you. I love you.”

“What if this ruins us?” I ask, fisting my hands to restrain myself. My heart pounds with excitement and so much happiness I dare not believe it’s real . . . but it is.

He’s telling me he loves me and that he wants me the way I want him.

“I don’t fucking care. I’m tired of it all too,” he murmurs, his eyes filled with fire as he watches me.

I slam into him. His moan fills my mouth as I yank his head back and kiss him. Our bodies press into one as I back him across the room. He hits the dressing table, and I reach down and hoist him up, sitting him on the top as I kiss down to hisneck. He cries out, dragging me closer like he can’t bear to be even an inch apart.

“Fox, please,” he begs, the plea heading right to my hard cock, making it jerk behind these ridiculous pants.

“Please what?” I ask against his skin, unable to leave an inch between us in case that one second gives him room to think and he pushes me away. He said it. He crossed that line, and now he’s mine. He isn’t getting away from me now.

I’m not a saint. I can’t resist anymore.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmurs as I slide my tongue up and press my lips to his.

“Of us?” I ask.

“Yes.” He nips my lip. “Of how you would taste, sound, and feel.”

“Me too.” I groan as I slide my hand down his chest to grip his dick through his pants, feeling it harden under my touch. “You want me to fuck you? Want me to make you mine?”

He nods, his eyes wide.

“They can’t have this anymore then, right? It’s mine, and I don’t share.”

“Yes, yes, yes, it’s yours.” His lips brush over mine. “Yours.”

His whimper cuts through the air when I grip him tighter.

Releasing my hold on him, I grab the edges of his stupid jeweled shirt and yank it over his head. He helps me, and then his lips are back on mine as he tugs on my jacket. It hits the floor behind us as he untucks my shirt and yanks on it with a whine.

Smirking, I step back and tug it over my head. His tongue catches on his lip as he watches me, and I arch a brow. “Tell me, baby boy, when you imagined us, was I fucking you?”

His eyes move back to mine, a blush spreading from his face down his chest. I lick his pecs before nipping his pierced nipple, his back arching as he cries out.

“Yes,” he finally responds. “Always you fucking me. I-I want you inside me. I want you so fucking badly.”

Thank fucking god.

Licking up his chest, I grin as I pull his head back with my hand in his pretty hair. “I wonder what they would say if they knew their perfect bad boy rocker dreams of his guitarist fucking him.”

“They’d be jealous.” He glances at my lips as he reaches for me again, his body swaying into mine.

“Hmm, just like me every time you went home with someone else and fucked them,” I snap, and he winces, sliding his hands down my sides as if to reassure me. “Yet here you are, begging me to fuck you. Did you beg them?”

He shakes his head as I yank him back.

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