“Fuck.”
He takes my chin in his hand and tips my head back, looking down at me. Then, before I know what’s happening, he’s kissing me. His mouth is covering mine in the most intense and incredible kiss I’ve probably ever received in my short life. His lips are full and warm and he tastes incredible. His body is hard and firm and, as he pulls me against him, I can feel every inch of it. I want more and, yet, I want him to stop.
Our tongues clash and our kiss becomes frantic. I reach up and curl my fingers into his hair and, with a feral growl, he scoops me up off the ground and into his arms, then he’s striding toward his room with purpose. He shoves the door open, not once breaking the kiss, and he walks me straight to his bed where he lays me down, his hard body covering mine.
It’s only then I remember he’s sharing a room with two men.
I pull my mouth from his and look over to where the other two beds are.
“Samson and Bohdi are in here.”
“Then you’ll have to be really fuckin’ quiet.”
His mouth finds mine again and he kisses me into submission, his hands roaming over my body, touching every single part of me. His fingers are gentle, but his hands are rough, and with every stroke he eases something inside of me.
We don’t waste time.
It could be desperation or purely need.
Either way, he has me naked in seconds and as he slips off his pants, he becomes naked, too. His hard body falls over mine and feeling his skin against my own makes me tremble. Smelling him, feeling the power he’s holding as he towers over me, makes me want to scream with satisfaction. His mouth drowns out every moan as he slowly pushes his cock inside of me, inch by inch, filling me and stretching me in a way I couldn’t even begin to dream about.
I kiss him harder to stop the moan, and it becomes so frantic my lips burn and my tongue aches, but it doesn’t stop me. I kiss him with all the pent-up ferocity and anger I’ve held inside for so long. He takes my hands in his and holds them above my head, then he starts fucking me. Slowly, so god damned slowly it makes me squirm with desperation.
“Hush,” he murmurs into the darkness.
He rocks his hips, dragging his cock in and out, bringing my body to the edge quickly. I tighten around him and my breathing becomes labored as an orgasm threatens to rise to the surface far too quickly. Cohen releases my mouth and his lips find my neck where he kisses a trail down my throat. It’s in that moment I realize what’s happening right now.
He’s making love to me.
He’s not fucking me at all, he’s not shoving his cock in hard and deep to find release, he’s doing it slowly, passionately, carefully.
His fingers are stroking over mine; his mouth is creating fire with every path he kisses and his body is gentle. His thrusts are deep, but slow, in and out, careful not to hurt me.
I clench my eyes shut and tears roll down my cheeks. Since they started, I’ve been unable to stop them. Over and over they flow, and it only makes me frustrated. Cohen’s lips find them, and he kisses them from my cheeks, which makes me want to fall in love with him so fucking hard it’s terrifying.
I can’t do that.
I can’t do any of this.
“Stop,” I plead, turning my head to the side. “Please, stop.”
He stops immediately, my words causing him to pause. He looks down at me and murmurs, “Am I hurtin’ you?”
Yes.
He is hurting me.
He’s hurting my fucking soul.
He’s making me want things I can’t have.
I will never have.
He slowly moves his hips again and the pleasure is undeniable. Part of me wants to run, screaming, the other part of me wants to stay just so I can feel this for a second longer.
I know that’s not going to help me, though.
I can’t be doing this.
I can’t feel anything for him.
“I need to go, please, let me go.”
He doesn’t hesitate moving his body off mine. The feeling of it disappearing makes my heart ache in ways I can’t even begin to understand. I get out of the bed, scrambling for my clothes. Cohen doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything, he just watches me as I dress myself.
I rush to the door and, before I go out, I murmur, “I’m sorry.”
Then, I’m gone.
THE NEXT DAY IS SILENT as we drive.
Nobody speaks, nobody mentions the events from the day before.
We all refuse to bring up what we all know was something incredibly emotional.
Merleigh asked me how I am before we got into the car, but that was it. She didn’t say another word after that. Briella tried to talk to me, but I kept avoiding her. As for Cohen, the stares he has been giving me all day make my heart hurt and my stomach feel heavy. He’s looking at me like he feels sorry for me, like he wants to help me but I don’t need his help.
What I need to do is get my shit together.
To finish this and move on.
I don’t want to hurt these people, I truly don’t. Right now, I want to confront my uncle, to put my past behind me, to make him suffer and then disappear. As for the club, for Cohen, I don’t know how I feel about any of that anymore. Gone is the angry rage toward them, the desire to make them suffer, now all I feel is empty and numb.
Can I bring myself to risk all their lives, to make myself as bad as the people I’m fighting against?
I don’t know.
I need to snap out of this emotional bullshit and put my wall back up, higher this time. I can’t let them in, being here with them isn’t going to
