Page 25 of Hard to Forgive

For half a second, he was stunned.

He didn’t kiss back. He didn’t move. He was frozen so solidly that not even his hand loosened on my chin. Which, if it had, maybe I would’ve been able to come to my senses before I got lost in the intoxicating feel of his lips against mine. But by the time he started kissing me back, it was too late.

I was gone.

Our lips battled, bruising against one another’s. His tongue ripped into my mouth, and he pushed me harder against the wall. His hand slipped from my chin to my throat, resting there. My hands hung slack by my sides for a moment before tangling up into his shirt, gripping onto the expensive fabric.

I’d been on the verge of a panic attack minutes before, but now all of my senses were consumed by him. Touch, taste, smell, and sound were all Silas Morgan and the way our lips and tongues fought for control. He wasn’t gentle with me, and that was more grounding than any of the therapy-approved techniques Seb usually used to bring me back down to earth.

Except I wasn’t back down to earth. I was drifting away into insanity. What else could it be, because I was kissing Silas like a man desperate for oxygen. His body crushed mine and I could feel the reaction he was having. The reaction he’d been having since he’d pinned me against the wall, boxing me in to shout at me.

I may have said he was sick for that, but I hadn’t been entirely unaffected. I’d fought the urge to kiss him to shut him up several times, and my dick ached from how hard it was. Pretty sure he’d have noticed if he hadn’t been too worried about Miss Priss—who I was not going to be thinking about right then.

Our kisses grew more heated and before long, the feel of him grinding against me had me moaning into his mouth. The weight of his hand at my neck made it hotter. I didn’t have to think. Right then, my brain could be silent, something that was completely underrated and appreciated when it came to my brain.

I didn’t have to overthink this.

In fact, if I thought about it at all, I’d know that it was a mistake.

I tugged at his shirt, and we broke the kiss, panting as we made quick work of one another’s shirts. Our lips were back on oneanother’s before they even hit the ground. I began to fumble with the button of his jeans. He didn’t have to deal with any of that. He pulled my pants down to my ankles, tugging the boxers down with them.

My dick sprung free, bouncing as it was released. It was sensitive against the denim of his jeans, and I struggled harder with that fucking button. I didn’t manage to snap it open before he grabbed my wrists and turned me around, pushing me against the wall again. His front pressed against my back as he pulled my hands up over my head.

One hand trapped both of my wrists where they were and the other messed with his own pants. I heard the telltale sound of a zipper and then, I felt him. Hard and thick and warm pressed against my crack.

I moaned at the feeling, and the memory of how good he’d fucked me that night at the bar. Before I knew who he was, before I recognized him. I knew this was a mistake, but as I felt him rutting between my cheeks, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Lube?” he growled as he thrust up. “Condoms?”

Fuck.

Those were all the way in my bedroom, and I didn’t want to break the spell between us. I wished, not for the first time, that I was more like Eli. He probably had condoms and lube within arm’s reach of every single part of the apartment he and Holden shared. I really should take a page from his book.

“Where are they?” he asked again, his hands tightening on my wrists.

“Bedroom,” I gasped back, pushing my ass back to feel more of him. “Some in the bathroom.”

“Fuck,” he grumbled. He continued to thrust up between my cheeks, the head of his dick rubbing over my hole and making me desperate.

For a moment, I didn’t care about condoms and lube. But the logical part of me, the part that was very muchnotin control that moment, reminded me that it was a very bad idea to fuck without lube. I would have many regrets, but if we stopped to get lube, then we both might come to our senses.

His hand loosened on my wrist, and he began to pull away.

My back was instantly cold without him pressed against it. But then he was back, his body covering mine as he growled into my ear. “Go get it.”

I nodded. I still wasn’t thinking. I was only acting and reacting, responding only to the lust that he transformed from all that anger and anxiety. I toed off my sweats and started through the apartment to the bathroom.

I didn’t realize he was following me until I closed the medicine cabinet and found him behind me in the mirror. He grabbed the tube of lube from me and pushed me against the sink. I braced my hands on the edges.

I could feel the heat of his eyes on me. “You look a lot less annoying like this,” he muttered.

“Fuck you,” I spat. Yeah, I was going to regret this decision.

“Plan’s to fuck you, actually,” he retorted.

I heard thesnickof the bottle cap opening and looked up, catching the way he looked in the mirror. His pale gray eyes were mostly pupil now, the thinnest ring of color around them. He met my eyes in the mirror and gave me a predatory smile. “Keep your hands where they are, or I’ll stop.”

I nodded, and my grip tightened on the edges of the sink. The cold porcelain bit into me in a way that was more pleasant than my nails. And then, I didn’t give a damn about the feel of porcelain or anything. I felt his fingers at my entrance, rubbing over the hole before slipping inside.

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