Page 30 of The Hate We Breathe
“It’s not your call to make,” I cut him off, and take a slow step forward. My chin tips up because this close there’s no way I can look him in the eye without craning my neck a little. The swirling masses of his crimson-brown eyes burn into mine.
“Maybe we’re sleeping together,” I say, my voice like steel, “but that doesn’t mean you get to dictate what I can and can’t do. We don’t keep secrets—not anymore.”
Something in his expression shifts—just slightly—but enough for me to know I’ve won this round. He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Fine. Do whatever the hell you want.”
He backs off and it’s too fast for me to catch him as he turns his back to me and shuts off the light again. I don’t shift as Nolan moves back around me. The sound of him unbuckling the belt of his jeans and stripping them down his legs is loud in the darkness.
I release the shirt gripped in my fingers and let it fall to the floor as I turn back. There’s some light coming in from the window, just enough for me to see the profile of Nolan’s face as he takes a seat on the bed and reaches back to pull his shirt over his head.
There doesn’t need to be any light, though, for me to see the set of his shoulders and the strain in his entire body. An air of exhaustion clings to him, a heaviness that makes something inside me soften.
Whatever happened tonight, whatever he had to do for Darrio Vargas, it’s still clinging to him.
With a sigh, I move towards him. He stops me with a raised hand. “You should call Lex to come get you,” he repeats his earlier words. “I meant it when I said I’m not in the best mood right now.”
Capturing his hand, I weave my fingers through his and nudge closer. Nolan’s head comes up and his knees part to allow me access as I come right up against him. His face is just in front of my breasts. I steal my free hand into his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp, and he groans with relief. His head sinks forward, forehead braced against my collarbone as I continue to stroke and scratch him.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, the sound of the word muffled by my breasts. “Don’t stop.”
He drops my hand to put both of his on my hips, keeping me anchored to him. I follow up the action by spearing both of my hands into his hair. I’m close enough to smell the faint trace of cigarette smoke and something else on his skin. His whole body is tense, as if he’s still expecting a fight, but now that I’ve said my piece, I don’t want to give him one.
There’s a heat inside me that he’s responsible for. So much going on that it feels like we’re all just puzzle pieces being shoved where we don’t belong. And the only time any of it ever just stops—our brains turn off and we just relax—is when we force each other to.
Nolan needs this, and I need to give it to him.
Pushing back the sandy strands that are near ink-black in the lack of light, I force Nolan’s head up. His eyelids lift and in the shadows of his bedroom, I feel the intense focus of his attention.
He looks up at me, eyes narrowing in a question, but I’m already climbing into his lap, straddling him.
“Jules…” His voice is a warning, but it’s half broken, the kind of warning I know he wants me to ignore.
So, I do.
My fingers trail along his jaw, the scrape of his stubble rough against my skin. I lean in, my breath brushing his ear before my lips ghost down the side of his cheek and to his throat. His hands move to my hips, not pulling me away—just holding me there in case I slip backwards.
The pulse racing in his throat stutters against the skin of my lips. I smile. The evidence of his quickly growing arousal presses between my legs.
“Juliet.” Another warning, this one spoken through gritted teeth.
“You’re in a shit mood,” I whisper against his skin.
“Yeah, and leaving me high and dry isn’t bound to make it better,” he half snarls, hands almost spasming on my sides.“So I hope you’re not planning to pay me back for not telling you about the funeral by edging me—if so, I should warn you. Turnabout is fair fucking play and if you’re not going to call Lex to come get you then—ugh.”
With a roll of my eyes, I cut him off by scraping my teeth against his jugular right before setting them to his skin and biting down. His sharp inhalation before I lift my lips to his face is hot as fuck. When my mouth finds his, it’s not gentle. I'm hungry.
Nolan kisses me with the violence of a gasoline-fueled fire. His fingers dig into my hips harder. He’s no longer holding me still, but yanking me tighter against him. His cock prods at my sex and I rock against it, a whimper building in the back of my throat. I shove my tongue into his mouth and take his into mine before sucking on it.
The shift in him is immediate—his tension bleeding away. Before he can turn and thrust me back on the bed, I pull my mouth away from him.
“Not… yet…” I gasp out, sucking down lungfuls of air.
Nolan’s responding growl has me moving faster before he can stop me or ignore my request. I scramble backwards off his lap, standing on my own two feet and yanking my tank top off before I jerk his boxers and my panties down.
Then, with all of my clothes pooled on the floor, I kick them away and go to my knees before him.
Nolan freezes, hands clenching and unclenching against his own legs. Glancing up from my position, I reach for the front of his own boxers.
“You did this for me before,” I whisper. “Remember?” He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t have to. Nolan isn’t the type to forget something like that. “Now, it’s my turn,” I tell him.
