Other than the testimony against him, I haven’t told a single soul what happened, and the ache in my chest tells me it might have been too soon, but my stomach is blessedly free of the nausea that used to be there. Maybe I’m making progress after all.
Shuffling breaks me out of my reverie, and I gasp when I spy Colt emerging behind us, glancing between us with a weird look that I can’t decipher. Melissa looks equally shocked, so I know I don't have to kick her ass, but I feel so naked, so vulnerable, I stand and walk away.
“Finn!” he calls after me, but I ignore him.
Walking down the sand, I make a beeline for the trees ringing a small islet and submerge myself from the world. The shadows cover my skin in cool relief, but it doesn't soothe the thudding sense of helplessness in my heart.
Hunching over, I take deep breaths through the pain racing through me in uncomfortable waves. I feel bare, exposed, splayed open, and I’m afraid to go back, afraid to look into Colt’s eyes. I’ve been outrunning him since the day I met him, but I can't outrun this. I can't outrun the reality that I love him, and he could crush me with this.
I’m such a fool.
“Finn,” Colt says behind me, and I close my eyes, against what I don't know, he’ll still be there when I’m done.
For a moment, we exist in silence, until I get mad, blazing, heart-wrenching mad.
Harshly I say into the quiet, “I don’t deserve this, none of it. I don’t deserve the piece of shit who calls himself my dad, serving a life fucking sentence. Oh, but that’s right, he's fighting that because he doesn't believe he got a fair trial. I don’t deserve to go home every night and stare at the face of my mom’s twin sister and wish so badly it was her. I don’t deserve to feel bad for wishing Maggie away. Fuck, I don’t deserve it. And you know what, Colt Theroux,” I say heatedly, turning back to him, “I don’t deserve the shit you’ve thrown at me since day one. Your mom and dad lied to you? Big fucking deal. You’re upset because two people loved each other enough to make it work. It’s not ideal, and it’s a shitty fucking hand, but they love each other.”
I’m shouting, my words garbled by the tears pushing at my throat, but I refuse to cry, not again. Not here, not now.
“I’m sorry you feel like you got a rotten deal, but you’re a lucky asshole with a complex. Get over it,” I mutter.
His face drops, his eyes carrying a quiet desperation before he shores it back behind his icy cold facade.
“Is that right?” he asks softly.
He’s so beautiful even in his pain, inexplicably, need rushes through me. I can’t bear the ache in my chest. I can’t accept the outcome of this, the cavern I’ve opened in my soul. I don’t want to feel.
Painful and quick, arousal surges through me, stealing the air in my chest. I want Colt to fuck me. I want him to take the pain away.
Stepping forward, I grab his dick through his pants and squeeze. With an indrawn breath, he grabs my wrist and stares at me like he’s never seen me before, and with a vicious smile, one of pain and regret, I squeeze again.
When his eyes light with fire, I pull away from his grip and unfasten his pants, all the while, he breathes heavily above me, standing achingly still.
Ignoring his shock, I shove my hand down his pants, palming his hardening length.
Only then does he break, grabbing my arms, and growling, “What are you doing?”
“It’s called a hate fuck, Colt,” I sneer, “sound familiar?”
“Finn,” he groans, his eyes black with desire.
I see the struggle within as he clenches my arms tighter, his expression grim as he searches my eyes desperately. Sensing his hesitation, I pull him from his jeans and drop to my knees, surrounding his head with my mouth.
He barks and grabs my hair, pulling me closer, and with a surge of triumph, I suck him off, pushing down and pulling up over and over while he moans above me until he’s close, his hands tightening in warning.
Abruptly, I pull off and undo my pants with shaky fingers as he steps forward with a grim expression and puts his hands over mine, helping me with the buttons.
Turning away from his eyes, I stare over his shoulder while he wrenches on my pants, and when they reach my knees, I try to stop him, but he pushes them down past my ankles anyway, my shoes flying off with them.
With a grunt, he pulls me into his arms, and I wrap my legs around his waist, shoving my face into his neck. I may be forcing sex on him, but I refuse to make this intimate, for I know this could break me later.
Lining up with my core, he rubs against me tantalizingly, and with a slight moan, I shift against him, eager for him to make me forget.
“Finn,” he growls, and I shudder, grinding against him with my need, but he doesn't move, doesn’t so much as twitch as I attempt to ride him.
“Princess,” he says again.
Reluctantly I give in, and as soon as I make eye contact, he surges into me. We both cry out, the feeling so savage, so real, so good it sends painful pleasure through me roughly. I lock eyes with him and watch him slowly unravel as he thrusts into me, his balls slapping my ass.
He’s holding me aloft in the air, and I can’t do much more than hold on
