Page 93 of Stolen Kiss

She coughed. “My eyes are up here, buddy.”

“I’m not your buddy, sweetheart.”

“And I’m not your sweetheart, buddy.”

Despite how angry she looked, I found myself wanting to smile. Fuck, she was glorious when she was like this. Like the sick and depraved bastard I was, I wanted to move into her fire. I wanted her to burn me.

I moved to the side when she grabbed the dirty cloth nearby and flung it at my head. It seemed to only piss her off more.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have dodged.

“I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Jensen. I don’t need you to take care of me. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

Any amusement I might have over the situation died a quick death from her words. I didn’t know why it pissed me off so much to hear her say it.

“I know that,” I said, a little more sharply than I intended. “Is it a crime to look after you, though? To want to make sure you’re safe? Just because you can do it for yourself doesn’t mean I don’t want to take care of you as well.”

She shook her head. “But not like this. Not by making these decisions without consulting me first. Without my input. I’m not Elodie.”

I moved closer to her. “I know that. I’m not trying to take care of you the same way I take care of Elodie. I’m—fuck.” I looked away from her, trying to get my feelings under control.

“This is for you. This will make it easier to get around because—”

I paused and took a step back from her.

Her nostrils flared, and she took the remaining steps and closed the space between us. “Finish the sentence, Jensen. Because of what? Huh?”

I remained silent. She grabbed my face and turned it so I was looking at her. Underneath the anger, I could see the hurt in her eyes, and fuck me if that didn’t just about kill me.

“Because I’m crippled, right?”

“Of course not,” I yelled.

She moved away from me, but not before I glimpsed tears in her eyes. How had this morning turned to shit so quickly?

“Then what is it? You look at me, and you see the same thing everyone else sees when they look at me. The same thing my brother sees, and my dad, and my sister. You see poor little Emilia, the cripple.”

I moved close to her. “Don’t. Okay? Don’t fucking say it. Not like this. Not anymore.”

“Or what?” she challenged.

We didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at each other, our breathing growing more erratic with every second that passed in tense silence.

I didn’t know who moved first, her or me.

But our lips clashed then in a frantic, passionate kiss.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, and I pulled her in closer. Her fingernails dug into my shoulder roughly, the pain only pushing me more over the edge.

“Tell me to stop right now if you’re not ready,” I growled against her lips, because once we started, I didn’t think I could stop.

She moved her hands down to the collar of my shirt. “Don’t you fucking stop. You hear me? Fuck me, Jensen,” she gritted. “Fuck me hard.”

I crashed my lips against hers once more in a forceful kiss and lifted her up until she was sitting on the kitchen island. I pulled away just long enough to remove my shirt, then kissed her again.

Her warm hands explored the skin on my back. I could feel my muscles tensing with every little touch from her.

Never had it felt this good with a girl.

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