Making me his.
“Why did you take care of me?” he asks, his voice firm. Cold. He sounds more like himself. Earlier, he showed weakness. He was feeling low. Who wouldn’t, after getting into a fight in the middle of a thunderstorm?
I shrug one shoulder but don’t say anything.
He shifts closer, lowering his head near mine. “Answer me.”
“I couldn’t leave you out there alone.” I lift my chin, hoping he doesn’t notice it’s trembling. “Just like you couldn’t leave me.”
“You should’ve left me. I treat you like dog shit,” he states matter-of-factly. “Yet you brought me into your room. Cleaned me up. Dried my clothes.”
I stare at him defiantly, any words I could say are stuck in my throat. I have no answer for him.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asks, lifting a single brow.
I watch him, wary. Silent.
“You’re stunning, do you know that?” His voice softens and he moves his hand toward my hair, making me flinch. He ignores it, stroking my hair away from my forehead, his gaze thoughtful as he stares at me. “You try to hide it, but there’s no use. You’re fucking beautiful, and it frustrates the shit out of me, Savage.”
Now it’s shock that’s rendering me speechless. He thinks I’m fucking beautiful?
“It doesn’t matter what I do, you don’t back down. Any other person would’ve broke by now. It’s like I can’t break you, and that frustrates me too.” His fingers go still. “What’s happening in that mind of yours right now? What are you thinking? The same thing I am?”
I’m thinking I want him to never stop touching me.
“You stared me right in the eyes when you took off your clothes in front of me earlier, like you didn’t give a fuck.” He leans in, his cheek next to mine, and inhales. “All that smooth skin. Pink nipples begging for my mouth. Long legs I can imagine wrapped around my hips. Your body is all I can think about.”
I close my eyes and he grabs my chin, shaking my face. “Open your eyes,” he demands.
I do as he says, quaking. A shuddery breath escapes me.
“Do I scare you?” he whispers.
Deciding to be truthful, I nod.
“Good,” he breathes across my lips, his mouth so close to mine, I can feel it move when he talks. “Because you scare me too.”
The words hang between us, suspended in air, his mouth resting on mine, our gazes locked. His lips move, capturing my top lip between his and giving it a little tug. A sigh escapes me, bone-deep, my eyes falling closed. This is what I’ve been waiting for. What I’ve wanted since I saw him again. This.
This.
This.
He kisses me, his mouth seeking, his hand moving from my chin to cup the side of my face. I lean into his palm, needing to feel him, to feel something, anything. Whatever he can give me, I’ll take.
His lips slowly work their magic, clinging to mine, soft, teasing kisses that surprise me. I open for his tongue, a gasp escaping me when he licks at my lips before sliding it into my mouth to meet mine. Our tongues touch. Dance. He shifts closer, lying halfway across me and I worry about him. Press my hands on his shoulders to push him off of me.
“Your ribs,” I whisper against his mouth, but he swallows my words, the sound of our lips connecting again and again the only thing I can hear. I become lost in the sound, his taste, squirming beneath him, wishing I could get closer. Wanting to be as close to him as physically possible.
“Don’t worry about me,” he says at one point, his hand going for the hem of my hoodie. “Take this off.”
He shifts to the side, helping me remove it. I’m braless, and his gaze goes straight to my breasts when the hoodie is gone. He kisses my neck. My collarbone. My chest. My nipples are so hard they hurt, and I arch my back, desperate to feel his mouth on them. He chuckles against my skin, I’m sure he can sense my neediness and he licks one nipple, making me cry out.
“Too loud, Savage,” he whispers. “Might have to muzzle you if you keep that up.”
“Put your hand over my mouth to keep me quiet,” I tell him and he lifts away from me so we’re face to face.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He cocks a brow.
I like the idea of Whit’s hand covering my mouth. I don’t know why. He brings out something in me. He makes me want things I would normally never suggest, especially out loud.
He lowers his head to my chest once more, raining kisses all over my skin. His mouth is so hot, his velvety wet tongue painting my skin, making me pant. I clutch the back of his head, sinking my fingers into his soft hair, clutching him to me. When he draws a nipple into his mouth and begins to suck, a keening cry falls from my lips.
He reaches up, his hand covering my mouth as he continues.
I moan against his palm when he sucks my nipple in earnest. I close my eyes, my entire body fixed on that one spot where we’re connected. He licks and sucks. Bites. It hurts. It feels good. At one point, I try to pull away from him, but he just sucks harder, his cheeks hollowing out. Until he releases my nipple with an audible pop before moving to the other one, giving it the same treatment.
All while I writhe beneath him, my skin on fire, my heart beating between my thighs, an incessant throbbing that becomes more and more intense.
His cock is hard, pressing against my thigh and when he’s finally through with my chest, he removes his hand from my face, watching me with swollen lips and that horrible black eye. The cut cheek and the split by his mouth, which I swear has started bleeding again. I reach out and touch the spot, pulling my finger away to see tiny drops of blood.
Despite the damage, he’s still heartbreakingly beautiful. I can’t believe we’re doing this. That he’s in my bed. That he wants to be here, and he’s not calling me names.
That I even have to think that makes me realize what we have isn’t normal. Far from it.
So what are we doing?
“I shouldn’t do this,” he murmurs. “I hate you.”
His words hurt. They steal my breath. Make me want to turn away.
But I don’t.
“Why am I so drawn to you?” I don’t think he’s really asking me this. More like he’s questioning himself. And I don’t have an answer. “Make me stop.”
He kisses me again, his mouth brutally attacking mine. I accept his brutality. Revel in it. I respond to him, winding my arms around his neck. Tangling my legs with his, pressing my chest against his so we’re skin-to-skin. He’s hard. Blazing hot. His tongue rubs against mine rhythmically, making me think of sex, and I want it.
I want him.
“Make me stop,” he repeats against my mouth, his hands going to the waist of my sweats and shoving them down my hips. I lift up, aiding him as he strips me bare, kicking the sweats off and shoving them aside with my feet.
He settles in between my thighs, his cock nestled between us and I spread my legs, giving him better access. He presses his forehead against mine, his hand going to my chin once more, squeezing until I open my eyes to find him watching me. His one eye swollen, the other one glittering, full of anger and so much hunger, it’s overwhelming. I try to look away but he won’t let me, his fingers gripping me firmly. “Tell me to stop.”