Page 59 of Kiss-Fist
The lights flicker again, and I hear a strangled noise come from Robbie. My hand slides across my eyes as I move toward the door. Everything seems to go in slow motion. Thunder cracks, and something shakes the building. The lights go off, and I hear the automatic click of the secondary lock in the door.
The ones for emergencies. The ones they have for active shooters.
My hands hit the handle, but it won’t twist. I pull on it over and over, but it won’t engage.
Robbie moves toward me and tries as well. His hand smacks mine, and I feel a flutter in my chest. One of excitement because touching him always makes me feel like this and sadness, knowing it’s over.
He steps away from me, running a hand through his hair as his phone flashes. He stares down at it and sighs.
Holding it up, I can’t read all of the message, but I get the gist. It’s from the school. There isn’t an active shooter, but the storm caused the emergency switch to flip, and anyone currently in classrooms or in offices on campus may be locked inside.
Help is on the way. Or something like that.
Don’t they know I just want to go home and have a good cry for being such a miserable fuckup? Don’t they know I need to get out of here so I can do it away from Robbie?
They don’t, and they don’t seem to care either. It feels like hours while I wait for that door to unlock. I keep trying the door in hopes I can escape, but I can’t. And Robbie is just standing there watching me. Intently. The light on his phone illuminates the unshed tears in my eyes, and for once, I don’t want to be seen by him.
He lifts his phone to his face and types something and then seems to erase it because he doesn’t show it to me. He does this four times. I’m counting because it’s torture. I want to know what he’s saying but don’t want to overstep like I did earlier.
I ruined it and didn’t even mean to.
Finally, Robbie makes a sound in the back of his throat and holds his phone up, my eyes blinking at the brightness. It takes me far too long to work through the words, but I do it for him. He deserves to be heard. Like he said, he wants a voice, and even if it’s hard for me, I want to make sure he has it.
Robbie: I’m sorry I upset you. What I said was true, but I know you didn’t mean to be cruel.
I blink wildly, trying to not cry, but fuck, it’s hard. I’ve always felt things so deeply. The only thing I can do is nod. And try to wipe at my eyes discreetly.
Robbie sees it, because of course he does.
His hands move up to my face, and his forehead touches mine. Butterflies with razor-sharp wings flutter, excitement and pain rushing through me.
He breathes that way for a moment, warm puffs of air hitting my lips. I want to lean forward, but his words have burrowed deep in my mind. I don’t want to make any more choices for him.
I want him to want to kiss me and not because he feels sorry for me. Because he still needs me the way I need him.
His fingers tighten slightly against my jawline, and then he leans forward.
His mouth ghosts across mine, and I moan, so loudly it rivals the sound of the thunder right above us. I can tell from the way he sways, Robbie feels it. In his hands, against his chest. He leans forward more, slanting his mouth over mine. I can’t help but push into him. I want more. Ineedmore.
For agonizing moments, I thought I’d ruined this. But he’s kissing me now like he missed me. Like those long seconds where things were on the cusp of being over were too much for him.
I groan again, and he pushes me up against the door roughly. A grunt escapes me as his kisses grow more feral, more aggressive. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth andbites down on my bottom lip, pulling a depraved whimper right out of my throat.
Oh god yes. Yes. Please.
His hips rut against mine, and I feel the hardness there. Even if I’m wrong and this is nothing more than a goodbye, at least he’s still attracted to me. And if that’s true, I’m going to make this fucking count. I’m going to make sure he never forgets what he had when he had me.
I match each one of his violent kisses with one of my own.
Robbie’s fingers claw down my back and ruck my shirt up, dragging his palms against my sensitive skin. I shudder under his touch, one hand moving into my hair through the top of my shirt, the other sliding down my shorts and grabbing onto my ass.
My hips thrust forward, desperately searching for more friction. He rips his mouth from mine and drags it to my Adam’s apple, sucking on it as I moan like a whore.
For the moment, my tears are forgotten, replaced with an all-consuming lust.
He’s rocking against me, guiding my ass back and forth as he continues to play with me, and I let him. I’ll let him have anything he asks for. Right now, I’m completely and utterly his.
But just as I start to think he’s going to rip my clothes off and take me right there against his door, the locks disengage. The sound of it is startling, shattering the moment between us, and reality comes crashing in. The moment is broken. This—the promise of having this man who I had finally let myself fallfor—is over.
