Page 50 of Bittersweet Revenge
I snake my hand along the back of his head, feel his prickly short hair against my palm and pull him in for a kiss. Before our lips can touch, he jerks back and says, “I’m hungry. What about chips?”
I bang my head against the mattress a couple of times. Fucking newbies. “Stay here. I’ll go get us something.”
“Okay. Hurry.”
“You’re a lot more agreeable when you’re high.”
“You wouldn’t pay me a second thought if I was agreeable all the time.”
No, no I wouldn’t. Still, I quirk a brow. “You’re not too high to know that?”
He flops onto his back, throwing an arm over his face. With a sigh, I get out of bed and tug on a pair of boxer briefs. It’s not until I’m at the door that I think about the fact that I’m leaving him alone in my room.
I shouldn’t do that.
I never do that.
“Fuck,” I curse softly, then hurry downstairs. Luckily, I don’t run into anyone as I grab a couple of bottles of water, a bag of chips, and a package of cookies.
Dean is still in the exact same spot when I get upstairs, only he lifts his head slightly. “Wow, for an asshole, you’re not so bad.”
“Right back at you.”
I kick the door closed and strip off my underwear before joining him again. Dean digs into the food like a starving man, which is good for him, actually. He needs a little meat on his bones. He’s strong but too fucking skinny.
He inhales the food, and honestly, I watch him more than eat anything myself. I’m still trying to figure out how fucking him has apparently transported both of us to a whole new world where we’re…this, instead of at each other’s throats. Though this is fun, I still want the other too.
When the food is gone, he downs the water.
Dean lies on his back, his throat beautifully bruised from my mouth, and damned if I don’t want him to mark me up more too.
He picks up the book from the nightstand and begins flipping through the pages. “Do you know why I likeThe Count?”
“No.” I settle in next to him, lying down, our faces close.
“Dantès does what needs to be done to those who betrayed him. He doesn’t let them get away with hurting him.”
I can respect that. “Revenge is sweet. But you don’t have to worry about that. If anyone hurts you, I’ll fucking kill them.” The vehemence in my words, in my tone, doesn’t surprise me. “Until I’m done with you, you don’t even have to worry about anyone looking at you wrong.”
Reaching up, I place my hand on his throat, squeezing slightly. Dean’s pupils flare. The book tumbles from his grip, and he’s pulling me down, bruising my lips with a kiss. His tongue sweeps my mouth hungrily, and then his lips travel to my chest and finally my throat, sucking and leaving his signature behind, this proof that Tiernan fucking O’Shea has let Dean claim him. Does he know that no one has ever done this but him?
“I’ll kill anyone who touches you too.”
I laugh off his claim. Of course he wouldn’t take this seriously. He’s never taken a life, and he won’t ever have to…buthe could. Somehow, I know he could. “That’s sweet of you, little fighter, but I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t do it.”
It’s the high talking, both of us saying shit that doesn’t make sense, shit that can’t or won’t be real once it fades.
Without another word, he rolls onto his side and closes his eyes. I study him for a moment, the way his eyes move under his lids, the way his mouth is slightly open, how many breaths he inhales and exhales in a minute, then turn the light off.
And for the first time in my life, I go to sleep beside someone I’m screwing…and sleep like a fucking baby.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dean
Iwake upwith foggy memories of the night before.
