Page 99 of Worth the Trouble

He takes my body like he took my heart—completely.

I hold onto him, dig my nails in, claw like there’s a chance I’ll get out when I already know there isn’t. And he thrusts into me like he’s mad at me for the fact that he let me fall for him.

We fight this battle with our hearts, our teeth, our flesh. We fight this battle with our souls and with each other. It’s hard and fast and angry. It’s all things him and me, playing a reckless game of mercy with the universe and asking it how far it’s willing to let us get. Seeing how long it takes before we’re begging to stay in or get out.

A man who doesn’t love.

A girl who can’t.

But I feel them both disintegrating.

He props up on his elbows so he can look down at me as his thrusts intensify, and it’s his eyes that draw out the last bit I’m holding back. He hits me deep and it’s like he wills my climax to destroy him. And I swear I almost do. Because I burst into pieces at the feel of him inside me, carving a place only he’ll ever fit.

Rome chases my orgasm with his own, so hard it hurts the way I need it to. It feels good enough to break me in two.

When we come down from the rush and he relaxes over me, he brushes my hair off my face. Leaning in, he plants the simplest, warmest, most perfect kiss on my lips.

“You can keep my heart, Lili,” Rome says, kissing me again on the side of my temple and resting his forehead on the pillow beside me. “Once you leave, I’m not going to need it, anyway.”

33

Lili

Howcanasoulhurt?

It’s not an actual piece of you the way an arm or a leg is. Yet, somehow, it’s more. And as Rome climbed off me this morning, I swore I felt it. It was hurting and breaking and beating like its own life force.

Rome disappeared into the shower, and I felt the air change like the seasons are about to. Fall fading and snow is on the horizon. The crisp air giving me the sense of a cold winter.

What started as fun, a challenge, a test, became something else. And while we entered this game with our bodies, our hearts ended up on the table.

It’s too cold to ride the motorcycle back to my house, so Rome drives me in his Range Rover. Something about the large interior is unsettling. Instead of being pressed against his body, I’m a seat away. And I feel every inch of space the music tries to take up as we drive.

Rome is quiet, and it makes me wonder if he regrets what he admitted. Not that I’d hold it against him. Sex with him makes me spill out all over the place, so if he was just talking nonsense in the heat of the moment, who am I to judge?

But I hope he wasn’t.

My fingers dig into my thighs as I stare out the window at the passing trees. It looks colder somehow. Leaves are changing color, and the Denver I showed up to a couple of months ago is being replaced with a shadow of itself.

Warmth encompasses my hand, and I look down to see Rome has reached out and placed his over mine, relaxing me. His tattooed fingers graze over my leg, and it fills me with an ease I shouldn’t allow.

On the backs of his knuckles on one hand he has tattooed the wordpleasure,and the other ispain. And when he touches me, I feel both, so it’s strangely fitting.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, not looking at me as he casually holds the steering wheel with one hand and leans back in his seat.

“I don’t know,” I admit; because I don’t. It’s a mess in my head. Thoughts moving in and out so quickly that I can’t make sense of them. “Everything.”

He nods slowly, and his tongue runs between his lips, wetting them. His gaze flicks in my direction for a fraction of a second, but it feels like an eternity.

Why do moments have to be so temporary?

“Do you regret this?”

His hand squeezes mine. “No.”

It shouldn’t put me at ease, but it does. “Me either.”

The faintest smirk ticks up at the corner of Rome’s lip, and I love it so much. Lovehimso much, not that I’m brave enough to admit it.

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