Page 18 of Clash
“Enamored? Clash, you don’t even know me!”
He moved across the room before I could even react, cupping my face and caressing it. Alcohol permeated his breath, but I could see the sincerity in his eyes, and that kind of worried me.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful! Don’t you see that?”
I shook my head, more tears forming in my eyes.
“Well, you’re blind, Gina. So fucking blind.”
Then, without warning, he kissed me, his soft mouth fitting over mine until our tongues were clashing together. Nipples hardening, and my nether regions flooding like a broken dam, I fell victim to his touch, allowing the man to possess me inways only my ex ever had. His hands gripped my hips, his pelvis pushing against me, making me feel his hardened cock that was definitely bigger than Eric’s. My hand instinctively moved lower, gripping the bulge in his jeans until he was moaning against my mouth. One of his hands dipped below my shirt, and the coarse contrast of his palm against my sensitive flesh hit me like lightning.
Fuck. What the hell was I doing?
Violently, I pushed him away, wiping my mouth as I took a few needed steps back from him. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”
Clash stumbled backward, shaking his head as if he was muddled with thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m drunk.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to fucking kiss me,” I scolded him, still panting for the breath he so effortlessly stole away.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t expecting him to relent so easily, but he was literally hanging his head in shame. “I can’t explain it, Gina. I don’t know why you’re affecting me this way. Maybe it’s your kid or something? God knows, I think I’d do anything for that little boy right about now. And I fucking hate kids. But when I look into your eyes, I just see everything I ever wanted. Maybe I’m stupid for believing in a future that doesn’t exist, but I can’t help myself. Hell, I wanted to come back here and be the biggest fucking asshole in the world, but the second I saw you, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.” Heartbreak shined in his eyes as he weakly looked up at me. “All I want is to protect and provide for you. That isn’t like me at all.”
“Clash, you don’t even know what you’re saying.”
“Maybe…” his voice trailed off. “Or maybe, I’ll wake up tomorrow morning with the biggest fucking hangover in the world, remembering every damn minute of tonight, locking thatfucking kiss in my memory so I never forget it.” He took another daring step forward, but this time, I held up my hand.
“I can’t.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I’m too broken, Clash.”
His hand carefully clutched my elbow, and just the small touch alone, dismantled parts of me I thought were gone forever.
“Let me fix you.”
The need to kiss him again was overpowering me, but I held back the urge, gently removing his hand.
“When someone is shattered and scattered into a trillion tiny pieces, there’s no way to repair them.”
His fingers caressed my cheek, a protective ownership taking over his eyes.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Gina,” he whispered, his fingertips gently stroking my skin. “Even what’s shattered can be put back together with glue, tape, determination, and a little love.”
Love? He was definitely drunk and talking crazy. WE JUST MET! How is he not realizing this?
I shied away, warding off the feelings of longing that were bubbling inside of me the longer I stared into those hazel orbs of sincerity. He was making me feel things I didn’t want to feel, at a time in my life where feeling anything for anyone felt like a bitter betrayal to the Devil I left back at home. I had no loyalty to Eric. I wanted out of the marriage. Yet, the way Clash was making me feel in that moment, felt like the worst kind of punishment in the world—a punishment far worse than any of the beatings Eric ever gave me.
It was the harrowing realization that there were men in this world who weren’t out to hurt me—men who only wanted to protect and shower me in love. That upon itself was a shitty punishment—knowing I chose poorly. Knowing I chose wrong.
I wanted to believe that Clash was that man, but before I could even fathom the thought, his body hit the ground, passed out cold from his night of drinking.
Yeah, he definitely won’t remember this shit in the morning.
8
