Page 41 of No Mistakes
The door opens behind me, and I turn, ready to tell Mandy I’ll be out in a minute, but when I do. It’s not Mandy standing behind me. It’s him.
Axel.
AxelfuckingAshford.
I stand up straight, staring directly into his eyes. “Ugh, what the hell are you doing in here?” I snap. “Since when were you a woman?”
He doesn’t move, just stands there, letting the door close behind him.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
I roll my eyes, “Because you keep following me.”
He gives a slow, wicked tilt of his head. “I said I’d give you space. I didn’t say I’d pretend you don’t exist, Buttercup.”
“Oh, give me a break, Axel.”
Something in his eyes flickers, “A break? From what exactly?”
I fold my arms over my chest, “From you. I want a break fromyou, Axel,” I lock eyes with him, “I hardly feel anything towards you, after that stunt you pulled, the only thing I feel is hatred.” I say the words with confidence, but inside, I know it’s a lie.
He takes a step closer, not stopping until he’s right in front of me.
I tilt my chin up, just enough to keep the contact, determined not to show weakness.
“Tell me something,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into something dark and rough. “Do you still think about the woods?”
His question throws me off guard, my breath catching. I open my mouth to respond, but no words escape.
He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Do you remember the way you fell apart in my hands… The way you begged me not to stop.”
“Axel-”
“Do you remember howyourbody cried forme?” He whispers. “The way you dug your nails into my shoulders, gasping like you’d drown if I didn’t fuck you harder?”
Heat flares between my legs, just as shame burns up my throat.
“I remember every fucking second,” he says, his teeth grazing my jaw. “I remember the taste of you on my tongue. The way you looked at me when I made you cum, with my fingers inside you and your mouth on mine.”
I close my eyes, trying to force the memory out of my mind, “Stop,” I whisper.
“Tell me to leave.” His voice is raspy while his lips brush mine with a soft touch. “Tell me to unlock that door and forget you moaned my name, like it was a fucking prayer.”
His breath is warm against my mouth, his chest barely brushing mine, and all I can feel is the heat between us.
“Say it, Buttercup,” he says softly. “Say that you didn’t ache for me last night in that parking lot.”
My lips tremble, and I hate that they do. I hate that my thighs clench, that my heartbeat races, that every fucking nerve ending inside of me is lit like fireworks under my skin.
“I… hate you,” I whisper, trying to convince myself.
He smirks, dark and knowing. “No, Buttercup. You hate how much you still want me.”
His hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His fingers leave a trail down my jaw until they rest at my throat.
“You remember this?” He asks, thumb pressing just under my chin.
“Right before I fucked you against that tree… You looked at me like I was the only man who could ever touch you.”
