Page 108 of Duke's Daring Bookworm
“Yes.” She seemed to realize just how close we were and her eyes widened at the proximity. I didn’t back away, though.
“I just — I don’t think — we were so young.” She stammered out her excuses, like she was grasping for whatever one might placate me rather than saying the truth.
“What does young have to do with anything? I loved you.” I didn’t need to tell her it was present tense love and not past tense. Not yet. “We could have made it work.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” She didn’t take her eyes off me, but the panicked look in them sliced through me. It wasn’t enough to deter me, though.
“So I’m not allowed to know why you ripped my heart out?” I struggled to keep my voice low and calm at this point. She may not want to talk about it, but I sure as hell wanted an explanation. This wasn’t justherstory. She didn’t get to dictate it, with no consideration for me.
“I had to,” she whispered.
“What do you mean, you had to?”
“I just did.” She took a step back from me and eyed the front door. This woman was infuriating. She would not shut this down. Not now.
“Why?” I pushed her more. I stepped towards her again. She wasn’t going to run from this again. She wasn’t going to run from me.
“Because I’m not allowed to be happy!” She shouted at me. My whole body stilled at that declaration. We stood close enough that her chest brushed my own as it rose and fell with her rapid breathing.
“What?” My voice was low and dangerous and her eyes widened at the sound. Whoever taught her that was going to see just how dangerous I could be.
“I mean — I didn’t — I, Forget I said that.” She fumbled for a moment as she backed away from me. I advanced on her until she was against the wall.
“What do you mean, you aren’t allowed to be happy?” I pressed so close to her I could see tendrils of her hair move with my words. She had to strain to look up at me, but her eyes didn’t leave mine.
“I didn’t mean to say that,” she said. Her voice was a whimper, barely there.
“Yes, you did. Now tell me, who told you that?” I brought my hand up by her head and pressed it against the wall to keep myself from grabbing her right then and shaking the answer out of her. Or kissing her. I wasn’t sure which it would be.
“My dad?” She said like it was a question. I just stared down at her. “He — you know he was a drunk. I’ve been in therapy for years. I just — I’m so —” She shook her head, unable to finish her sentence and I could see her eyes water from whatever slurry of emotions were running through her.
I closed my eyes briefly and took a deep breath, but I didn’t move and she didn’t run away.
“I’m not your dad.” A stray tear trace down her cheek.
“Oh, Charles. I know. It’s just that,” she looked away from me but still didn’t run. “Every time something good happened, he showed up drunk and I’m trying. I’m really trying to work through it.” She sounded so wounded talking about this and my heart beat out of my chest, reaching for her, so it can make hers whole.
When she didn’t speak or move for a while, I gently guided her face until she was looking at me.
“Just to be clear,” I said slowly, “you get to be happy.” That came out sounding like a threat. “I will show you just how happy I can make you.”
I descended on her then, my mouth claimed hers. A needy moan escaped her and then she was kissing me back, hard and desperate. Her hands tangled in my shirt and pulled me impossibly closer. Her soft curves gave way to my hard body, and the heat of her fed the inferno between us. I ran my hands up her platinum locks and used my grip to angle her how I wanted her.
She pressed herself closer still and rubbed herself along me like a cat begging for my attention.
She broke free of my kiss. Her breaths were fast, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen. I did that to her. I marked her.Mine.
I held her, and she stared at me like she was memorizing my face.
“No,” I growled out.
“No, what?” A cute little frown formed between her eyes.
“Don’t look at me like this is the last time you will see me. Like you have to memorize my face for when you leave again.”
She reached up and touched my cheek. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something and then closed it again. Then she surprised the hell out of me and stood on her toes and kissed me. Her lips tasted like mine. I groaned and pulled her to me, my fingers sinking into her.
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” she said with a tone of regret. She was going to leave again.
