Page 67 of Coco and the Misfits

His smile fits perfectly over mine. Warm. Firm. Sure. Demanding. One strong hand trails over my arm only to grip my waist and haul me against his tall, powerful body.

Kissing. Stroking. Intense and dark and delicious. My body responds eagerly, a need burning deep in my belly. I feel him pressed so hard against me and I want him.

I want him to claim me, to enter me, to take me. Take me away for a while.

He draws back with a grunt. “Fuck, you’re killing me, Smalls.”

“So quaint,” I tease, trying not to pant like a bitch in heat.

“I can’t think with you around.”

“Should I be sorry?”

“Don’t be. Come with me?”

I nod and we’re running again. It’s exhilarating, laughter tearing through me. With him beside me, I’m not scared.

When we reach the entrance of his building, though, I pause. He stops and gazes down at me. “Okay?” he asks. “Want to go back to Ink and Shadows?”

Am I making a mistake? As much as I’d love to climb this man like a tree, is today a good time?

And when will it be a good time? I’ve been walking on eggshells since that night at the bar. Eggshells not to spook myself. What I need to do is tear off the Band-Aid, lance the wound.

You’d think I was raped or something. Get over it, Coco! God.

But it had come close to something nasty, and I feel cold every time I remember how helpless I’d felt. Both Atticus and Zach have been treating me as if I’m made of porcelain, as if I could break.

Now I need to take back control.

Sex. That’s what I need. And he’s offering.

Grab the present with both hands and dive into the void. Isn’t that what they say? No? Okay, I made it up, but no time like the present is a thing.

I smile up at Ryder. “I want to see your place.”

24

RYDER

Is this a mistake?

She’s hesitant, and after what Gigi said, I understand why. I shouldn’t have asked her to my apartment, but her kisses were hot and excited, her laughter bright.

I’ve been in dark places. You’d think sunlight is what you need after a scare and depression, but sometimes what you need is more darkness. Like with drug addiction, you can’t just go cold turkey.

But this bright, bubbly girl has a core of darkness to rival mine. I can sense it. Could sense it from the first time I laid eyes on her in that fucking bar.

A shard from a black mirror.

A wound that is festering.

Although she’s not me, thank fuck, not this twisted, snarling animal tangled in the bars of his cage… she may still get me.

Like calls to like, and she calls to my soul. To my body. To my everything. I’ve never felt anything like it.

I unlock the building and pull her inside. In the dimness, she seems to glow. But this isn’t a fairytale. I have to remember that. I want to take her right here, but I want to see her eyes when I touch her, when I reveal her.

What can I say? Maybe it’s the artist in me. The truth-seeker.

---