Page 31 of I Hate Myself for Loving You
“Oh, did you forget? You told the dog and that dog is me, Dracula.”
“Give me the letter, Avery,” he growled at her. His face, handsome even in fury, loomed over hers.
But she wasn’t afraid of him. Not even a little. Poking his chest with a finger, she shook her head stubbornly, sticking her chin out. “Or you’ll what? Bite me? Drain me dry? Bring it, vampire. Let’s do it because I’m not giving you the letter until you tell me what it means. Tell me about the parakeet.”
“No, Avery,” he replied coldly, his eyes hard like chips of ice.
And suddenly, she’d had enough. Avery was tired of denying that she cared about Lassiter. To herself and especially to him. She was tired of pretending he had once been a man capable of great compassion.
She was tired of fighting this battle that didn’t just wage in her head, but in her heart. She was tired of telling herself he was inconsequential because she had a cause she so vehemently believed in. And she was sick and tired of spending endless nights, like those of the past ten years, pretending that Lassiter had never existed.
He did exist.
She wanted to be a part of that existence, but not without his willingness to let all of his secrets go.
“You know what, Lassiter, this gives you the best excuse ever. You can scurry off to your coffin—do you sleep in one of those?—and hide. Pretending like no one cares about you because it’s easy, you big, damn pale-assed pansy! I’m standing right here, right now, telling you I care about you. I’ve always cared about you, even when you went off and forgot about me for ten years. I’d help you if you’d just let me. But you have to be all secretive and angst ridden. Everything has to be this big drama. It’s such bullshit, Lassiter. Just grow up, would you? Grow up and stop making everything so fucking hard.” Her voice had risen now, peaking and swelling in the small bathroom.
A glimpse of herself in the dirty mirror, her eyes flashing with anger, betrayal and most of all, sadness. Sadness they could no longer communicate on the level they once had.
His silence, on the other hand, spoke volumes.
Frustration got the better of her and she shoved his chest hard, knocking him back a step. “Fine. Keep your secrets, Lassiter, and your sad, lonely life, but I’m going to tell the Adams about this. I have to. I don’t know if that letter means you really are an Adams from this Adams family, but it means something and I’m going to tell them.”
Shouldering her way past him, she grabbed the doorknob, but Lassiter’s hand, large and strong, drew her back to his chest.
He held her there, pressing her to him. “Wait, Avery,” he said, his voice raw, determined, revealing, making her stay.
Avery didn’t know if he wanted her to wait because he was afraid of what she’d tell the Adamses or because he wanted her help. Yet his tone held something so raw, she relaxed a bit against him and took deep breaths of air.
He gripped her bare shoulders, running his hands over them before turning her in his arms and dragging her to him.
Her pulse raced and her anger began to subside.
Lassiter kissed the top of her head, raining kisses along her scalp, moving down to her cheek and, finally, taking her lips in his, sliding his tongue into her mouth with silken skill.
“No, Lassiter. This can’t be how we resolve this…” was her murmured objection, weak and stilted.
Cupping her jaw, he caressed it with his thumb. “We’ll talk, Avery. We’ll talk, but now—now, I have to have you.” Forceful and dynamic, his words slammed into her ears.
“I’m holding you to that,” she insisted, putting her hand over his and pressing it to her skin. “Promise me, Lassiter. Say it,” Avery whispered against his hand.
His chest inflated against hers as he looked into her eyes with solemn assurance. “Promise,” he repeated, low and deep.
Avery wrapped her arms around his neck and firmly planted her lips on his, showing him with her passion that she was ready to take him at his word.
Her hand wove into his hair, clenching the strands with tight fists, and she leaned into him, allowing his body to mold to hers.
Lassiter’s hands found her ass, reaching up under the towel and cupping the firm globes of flesh. Massaging them, grasping them and pulling Avery against him with forceful purpose.
She sighed into his mouth, forgetting their argument. Forgetting that Lassiter hadn’t let her into the most confidential part of his life. Forgetting everything but his kiss.
A kiss that left her lungs without air.
A kiss that stopped her heart and plunged deep into her senses.
The length of steel between Lassiter’s legs was rigid, pressing between the apex of her thighs with urgency. He lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist, moving them to the far wall.
Lassiter cushioned her back, keeping her from the cold tile, pulling away the towel with a sharp yank and exposing her heated skin to the cool air.
