Page 43 of Secrets That Bind Us
I slowly open my eyes to look at the clock on the wall behind him. “I have to go.” I really don’t. I just can’t stand being here like this, feeling his questions running through his mind like my own. I don’t have the grace to answer them without feeling exasperated.
Before I can grab my backpack from the ground, I’m pressed against my locker– and how do I let him do this to me all the time? His lips are on mine, and I stand my ground, not opening for him when he licks the seam of my lips with his tongue– but Christ, I want to. I want to melt. I want him to incinerate me over and over until I’m nothing but ash, but I. Stay. Still.
He presses his lips against me harder. “Kiss me.”
I don’t.
“Kiss me, Verity.”
I find purchase on the groves of his abs, my fingertips on his pecs and I push, frustration growing in the pit of my stomach. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“God, Dean. I can’tandI won’t. Don’t you get it, yet?” My voice rasps, but it’s mostly from willing myself not to cry. “I can’tbecauseI love you. I won’t because if I do, I’ll fall for you all over again, and I’ll stay here for you. Or I would follow you like a fucking puppy if you asked me to.You– The man that only gives me pieces of himself when I would give you all of me.Havegiven you all of me. I would let you destroy me, Dean. Inside and out. Andthen I would beg for you to please,pleaseruin me again. And Ihave toget out of Adelaide in one piece,” I choke on a sob “or I won’t survive being away from you.”
I’m caged in his arms, storms in those cerulean eyes that make me so weak I could crumble. He smacks the locker beside my head, and I jump. I’ve never been afraid of Dean. Even when he’s been chaotic, I’ve welcomed it– because he makes me feel safe. His anger and frustrations aren’t toward me; they’re toward our complications. Every reason we shouldn’t be together– but still, want and need the other.
We’re a convolution of objections and disasters. Set in stone, like statues of lovers. Archeologists will find our bones twisted towards each other like sunflowers on a cloudy day. Nothing more than Romeo and Juliet on a dais, taking one last sip of poison. But such a delicious poison it would be…
He steps back barely, with a small apology, and then licks the corner of his mouth. I get out from under him and swing my backpack over my shoulder, turning to leave for the weekend.
“Do me a favor, Ver. Just one. Please.”
I turn back to him, only to see he’s a lot closer than I thought he would be.
He grabs my wrist lightly. “Whatever you do in this life, promise me you will not marry Micah. You won’t be happy. He won’t compare to me. He’ll never love you like I do. You’re mine. You and I were meant to be. I will always be the better option when it comes to loving you right, Verity. And I deserve that chance.”
This enrages me.
“You want to be the better option, Dean? You really want to be better– thendo better.Actuallybebetter. Because I simply no longer have time to waste. Once I’m gone, I’mgone. I won’t be coming back here. The only reason I’ll come back is to take Mama away from here. But I’lldiebefore I ever call Adelaide home.”
He licks his lips and laughs, shaking his head, eyes crinkled at the corners, and he’s so beautiful I want to scream. “It don’t have to be Adelaide, Ver. New York, Cali, Paris, Indonesia, Nantucket – you and me are end game. So don’t marry that fuckwad, because I can promise you– you won’t be happy.”
It feels like a promise and a curse.
There’s nothing left to say, and when I turn to leave, he catches me off guard and presses his lips to me again. I kiss him back, only to push him off and slap him. He grins, wide and maliciously– so I do it again. My aching heart pounds, practically bursting at the seams. I stupidly lunge for him.
I kiss Dean Carson with all the love in my soul I hold for him. My backpack drops on the ground behind me, and when his arms wrap around my waist and he lifts me, my legs and arms hook around him, pulling him closer– because it feels so fucking good to kiss this man that God created just to eat my heart and ravage my soul. I am fire, and he’s the only one that can put out my flames. Except he only ignites them further. The kindling to my embers.
I am gone
Gone
G o n e.
I find myself pressed against yet another wall in an empty classroom, the taste of him– the salty, spicy, masculine scent of his in my nose. I groan in delight, in hunger for more of him. Lips locking, nipping, tongues clashing, nipples hard and pressed against him, his erection behind his jeans pressing perfectly against my clit as he grinds. How is it possible to love someone so much it hurts and feel so fucking good from the inside out? Like my own heart is walking around outside of my body in human form?
I want more.Needmore. And when I cry out, he swallows every moan, every sigh. He keeps rubbing. One hand flies down between us, and I’m so thankful I haven’t given up my dresses like I’ve wanted to, because when he finds the hem of my panties, he pushes them to the side. Long, thick fingers plunge into me roughly, and both of us are groaning. Me to the new sensation of being filled and stretched, and him to finding how wet I am for him. But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t take his lips from mine. He just keeps going– deeper, harder, like he knows exactly what I need from him. His thumb is on my clit, and I chase his fingers, chase the high he gives me– because for all that it’s worth– being with Dean is more highs than lows.
“There’s my girl. Come for me, baby.” He does something inside me, and even though it hurts, even though we’re in an empty classroom in school– he touches that spot, and with his soft encouragement, ripples of ecstasy scatter through me– and I fucking break for him.
Ialwaysbreak for him.
When I’m done shuddering and he’s done kissing me, he pulls his fingers out, putting my panties back with his thumb. He sets me down gently on wobbly legs. I gasp, eyes wide, when I see the bright streaks of my virginal blood on his fingers, and embarrassment floods me.
But Dean grins wickedly when he sees it. Inspecting his fingers, he cocks a dark brow at me, and I watch in utter amazement when he dips them into his mouth– savoring the remnants of my innocence over his tongue like a fucking vampire, grinning like a madman– my blood in his teeth and on histhoroughly kissed puffy lips. Lips that not only just kissed me to death but encouraged me to my damnation.
I should be disgusted. He’s vile. Demented.
