Page 31 of The Love of My Next Life
I can feel the flush spread from my ears to my neck, then to my collarbone. I can’t tell if it’s anger or embarrassment or both.
“Fight back,” he says when he looks back at my face. I can feel his eyes on the tightness of my jaw. “Use your fucking voice,Leonard.”
My fingernails are cutting into my palms with how hard I’m clenching them, my chest is tight from the force of my locked arms. I stay quiet, and he takes another forceful step toward me, leaving only inches between our bodies.
“Quit being so fucking nice.” He growls. His taunting voice is low but full of irritation. Of anger. “Are there no real thoughts in that pretty head? Gonna stay quiet when you fuck the football team, too? You just a polite groupie Barbie, Leonard?”
He cocks his head to the side, his eyes bouncing between mine, then reaches up and tugs hard on my braid.
“Nice, polite,boring, gang bang Barbie.”
I explode, slapping his hand away and giving his chest a hard shove, so he falls back a step.
“Shutup, Macon,” I spit. “Do you ever shut up? You’re such an asshole. Just because I give a shit how other people feel. You wouldn’t understand. You’re not capable of empathy. You’re so fucking selfish.”
I take another step forward and shove him again.
“If you weren’t so busy getting high and screwing everything that walks, maybe you’d care a little more about being nice. But you don’t care about anyone but yourself. You’re a miserable asshole. You just want everyone else to be miserable with you, and I hate you. I. Hate. You.”
My chest is heaving, my eyes narrowed into slits, and I watch as Macon’s nostrils flare and his jaw tightens. He gives his head a small shake, then another, before descending upon me. His hands grip me hard at the waist and his mouth attacks mine, searing me with a forceful kiss.
My hands fist into his shirt as I’m hit with a wave of lust and confusion strong enough to knock me off my feet. When his tongue swipes over my lower lip, I gasp and shove him away.
“What the hell was that?” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and glare at him. His eyes stay on my lips. “What the hell, Macon!”
“You’re finally acting on your impulses with me, Lennon,” he grinds out, panting. “Don’t stop now.”
There’s something about the way his attention stays on my lips, like he’s desperate for them, or the way his voice is rough with an emotion I don’t quite understand, that makes my feet move without my permission. My fingers slide into his hair as his big hands wrap around me once more. Our bodies slamming together; our mouths colliding gracelessly.
There’s nothingniceabout this kiss. It’s not polite or gentle. It’s rough, almost violent.
His hands grab at my bare skin, squeezing and pulling in a way that will leave red marks. It hurts as much as it feels good. His tongue invades my mouth, tangling with mine like it’s fighting for dominance. Conquering.
I pull hard at his curls, and he growls into my mouth, pushing me back up against the door and pulling hard on the waistband of my jeans with one hand as the other palms my breast, tweaking my nipple through the fabric.
My brain is static.
My heart pounds in my rib cage, and I release a whimper as he undoes the buttons on my jeans and rubs his fingers over my underwear. I widen my stance and suck in my stomach on instinct, giving him room to explore.
He slides his hand into the cotton fabric, and I press my head back to the door, my mouth dropping open. He drags his teeth over my jaw and groans when he swipes his fingers through me. I don’t know when it happened, but I’m wet, and my body tingles at his touch. He sucks and laps at my neck as he presses a finger into me, and I release a strangled, nearly silent cry.
“Yes?” he asks against my skin.
“Please,”I whisper back.
There’s so much happening everywhere that I’m not sure what specifically I just consented to. If it’s to the slow way he’s started pumping in and out of me, or to the way he just pulled down the cup of my bra, exposing my breast. If it’s to more.
I don’t care. In this moment, I want it all.
He crouches, leaving hot, open-mouth kisses on my shoulder, collarbone, and the swell of my breast. When his lips close over my nipple, I whimper again and pull tighter on his hair, pressing him into my body. I feel him start to slip a second finger inside me when there’s a knock on the door at my back. Macon and I freeze.
“Lennon?” Eric’s deep voice comes from the other side of the door. Macon’s eyes meet mine; mine are flared wide with fear while his are hard and narrowed. He shakes his head no, but I ignore him.
“Yeah,” I answer, and Macon removes his hand from my pants quickly. My brow furrows as I study him. He folds his arms over his chest and glares at me as I fix my bra and rebutton my jeans.
“I brought you a shirt,” Eric says. “I took it from Josh’s sister’s room. She’s at college, so I don’t think she’ll care.”
I can hear the smile in his voice, and my stomach twists. I might be sick. I feel so guilty, and when I look back at Macon, I know he can tell.
