It looks like she and I are going to be swimming in hot flames for the rest of eternity. Since our hearts seem to be set on torturing one another.
And last time I heard, the devil had a real sick and twisted way with hurting people. Hell, the devil isn’t in disguise. Maybe everyone has their own personal devils. And mine is five-foot-four, has long honey brown hair, bright green eyes, and even when she chips away at every nerve, she gets my cock hard, turning me on just as much as she drives me toward the edge of insanity.
Yeah, if she isn’t the devil, she’s my own personal brand of demon.
Chapter 20 Everly
Oh, the nerve of him!
How dare he come at me like that. “Rowan, you have no right controlling me like that. If I want to hang out with another man, I will. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me. It doesn’t work like that.” I try to point my finger at him, to show him who the boss is here, but I stumble, tripping over my own two feet.
I’m positive I’m about to hit the ground, but big strong arms wrap around me right as the floor gets too close for comfort. He lifts me back to my feet, but the motion makes me stumble backwards.
My back is against the wall, and our faces are inches from each other. Rowan’s nose touches mine. His breath ghosts over my lips, and I can taste the slightest hint of scotch. A white make-shift bandage catches my attention. It’s wrapped around his palm. Red splotches decorate it. I want to ask what happened, what marred his beautiful skin, but the snarl on his face makes me hold my tongue.
The maddening man.
He is so handsome. The kind of handsome that hurts your heart and makes you wonder how in the world can someone be that good looking. He just wakes up, and boom, he is the hottest, sexiest man I have ever laid eyes on. He has this tiny scar right above his lip from when we went fishing when we were eight, maybe nine. It’s my fault. I flung the rod back, and the hook got him right in the mouth.
My fingers ghost over the scar, and I don’t even realize I do it. I go to pull my hand away from the curve of his top lip, but his hand lands on mine, to keep it there. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. I trace the edges of the pale, slightly-puckered skin. It is hard to believe that little scar is all that is left from the accident.
His lashes shadow over the tops of his cheeks, and his eyelids flutter from my barely-there touch. I could touch him forever. He only drives me mad because he is the one thing in this world I can never have. I push him away, but really, I only end up loving him more the harder I try not to.
It’s cruel.
He brings his lips closer to mine. The tease of his breath wisps over my skin like a cool summer night’s breeze. Warmth radiates from his skin, soaking into mine.
“You need to sober up,” he mumbles against my lips.
The tickle of the soft skin causes me to whimper. “Don’t tell me what I need to do,” I stumble over my words, but I make sure not to slur. Drunk or not, loving him and wanting him, seem to be out of my control.
“We have another search tomorrow. We can’t do this. You need to rest.” He pulls out of my hold, taking his warmth away with him.
“Don’t worry about me. You stopped caring a long time ago. Don’t start now,” I choke out, through the emotion strangling my throat.
He marches forward and points his finger in my face. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to place blame on me when all of this between us is your fault. You! Not me. I loved you, Everly. Do you get that? Do you know what love actually is? I fucking loved you. You left me, remember? You stopped caring about me, remember? You didn’t answer your phone. You broke me, remember? No. You don’t get to stand there, half drunk, and point fingers at me.”
My lip starts to tremble because I know he is right.
His face pinches with sadness as he lays his forehead on mine and whispers, “You don’t get to fuck with me like this after so many years. No matter how many times I try and get away from you, to put you behind me, something happens and the memory of you surfaces. So just stop. Let me go.”
“I can never let you go, Rowan,” I say through thick sobs. “I might have left you, hurt you, but I never let you go.” I break eye contact with him and slither out of his hold.
I wipe my cheeks on the back of my hands and walk toward the couch to get ready for bed. I just want to sleep and find my mom.
I go to pull my wrist out of his hand, but he keeps a tight grip on it. “Rowan, you’re right. Let’s just go to bed. Only a few more days and we never have to see each other again,” and the reality of that hits me hard. To only see him and his success through the newspaper and relive it through the scrapbook.
It’s sad and pathetic.
“I can’t live like that,” he says, yanking me into his arms.
I thump against his chest and barely have time to place my hands on his chest before his mouth is on mine, taking me and owning me with one lick of his tongue.
“I can’t stay away from you,” he mumbles through our
