Page 56 of You Had Me At Thirteen

I open and close my mouth as I struggle to find the right words. When nothing worthwhile comes to mind, I opt to say nothing.

‘That’s what I thought. Now get the fuck out of my house.’ Wren points behind him to the front door, except his body stays pinned against mine.

Each one of my limbs tense as I grit my teeth, using my free hand to slap his cheek. ‘You’re an arsehole.’

Imminent tears sting my eyes, but right now, I don’t care. Why does he think he can speak to me like this? I’ve done nothing but put up with his bullshit, this back and forth between being nice to me, then treating me like I’m nothing. I’m turning into my damn mother. All those years of promising myself I’d let no man treat me the way my dad treated her. And here I am… Jesus Christ.

Wren lowers himself to my level. ‘And you best keep thinking that,’ he says, his voice harsher than I’ve ever heard it before.

He still hasn’t let me go, so I attempt to punch him, hoping that will get him to free me, but all it does is piss him off further when he captures my free hand, and pins it above my head with the other one.

‘Hit me again, I dare you,’ he says through gritted teeth.

If I could get free, I would. As I struggle against him, he becomes more menacing, his eyes dancing over my face. Every inch of him radiates alpha male right now. I’m at his mercy, my hands pinned above my head, but all I can think about is how turned on I am.

And why does he smell so good?

Instead of giving in to my inappropriate thoughts, I shove my body against his, trying to gain some sort of advantage as I struggle to free myself. ‘If you want me gone, fine,’ I say. ‘Now let me go, you prick.’

He growls in my ear. ‘I love it when you call me names, Matilda.’

‘I fucking hate you.’ I kick out at him, hoping he’ll free me so I can avoid embarrassing myself further.

Tears roll down my cheeks as I fight against him, my mind and body in a clear war with each other. My brain knows it’s losing the battle. My need for Wren is overpowering my hatred for him.

Wren watches me, his eyes softening at the sight of my tears. ‘Jesus, I’m going to fucking regret this,’ he says before lifting me by the waist and crushing me against the wall, his lips on mine.

At first I want to punch him, but the way my body softens against him tells me I’m fully committed to this moment. Instead of violence, I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer. With a grunt, he braces himself against the wall and pushes his tongue further into my mouth. His kiss is forceful, nothing soft about it, especially when he bites onto my bottom lip, dragging his teeth over it before using his tongue to sooth the ache. He smells like scones and tastes like Wren and strawberry jam, his mouth still warm from the tea, his tongue hot against mine.

‘Wren,’ I say against his mouth, eliciting a moan from him as he moves his hands from the wall to my waist.

Each time his fingers dig into my flesh, little whimpers leave my mouth. His hands are rough as they sprawl out just below my breasts, and every now and again he massages his fingers into my skin, sending my hips thrusting into his so I can grind myself against him.

As our kiss deepens, he hardens between my legs, pushing into my centre until I crave more. I want all of him.

But he doesn’t give me that. Instead, he pulls back, his breathing ragged as he slams a hand against the wall beside my head. I’m startled by the sound ringing in my ears, and I cover my swollen lips.

‘Get out,’ he says, the words almost inaudible, his breathing heavy.

‘What?’ I choke on the word. He can’t be serious.

‘I said. Get. Out.’ His voice rises a million octaves and he steps back, holding his stomach, his breathing coming out in short bursts.

But it’s his eyes that set me alight. Up this close, they’re the most beautiful colour I’ve ever seen. I’ve stared into those eyes plenty of times, but this feels different. There’s so much pain and anger swimming in them, that I want to tell him he’s not alone and I’ll fight his battles with him.

The tears come harder now, reminding me he’s a prick. He steps back so I get up into his face, my bottom lip quivering.

‘Never speak to me again,’ I say, and then shove past him, storming straight for the door, not stopping until I’m in my room, my face buried into my pillow so I can scream into it.

TWENTY-THREE

Wren

* * *

While throwing punches in the air, and pacing my bedroom, I contemplate what just went down with Matilda. Never in my life have I met someone who gets under my skin the way she does. I know she only came over because she… cares? Is that what’s happening between us? She cares about me? And I threw her out like she’s nothing. Seeing her tears had me hating myself even more than I already did, but I couldn’t stop myself.

Besides, I didn’t even scare her. Hell, she has fire in her, I’ll give her that. I’d like to see her take on the guys I’ve fought in the cage. I bet she’d give them a run for their money any day.

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