He lowered, his lips brushing tantalizingly against the skin of my jaw. “Don’t fucking move.”
He covered my lips with his, quieting anything I might have said in protest. He hadn’t needed to say anything. I just wanted to see that anger flare in his eyes. Yeah, I was sick, and I knew it. But like Caelan, I had no wish to change. I was happy being fucked up. It gave me something to live for when there was nothing else.
I bit down on his bottom lip and a low growl clawed out of his throat.
We were a sick pair, destined to meet and destroy each other.
His hold on my wrists continued to tighten as his thrusts increased.
I knew he was close to falling apart.
Since he had my arms pinned, I raised and lowered my hips to match his.
The moan that escaped me was loud and unrestricted. I wasn’t holding myself back from him like I did with other people.
I was laid bare to him. Every flaw, physical and emotional, on full display. I let him have it all, because it wasn’t a gift. It was a fucking curse.
He kissed me then, and I was surprised by the gentleness of it. The heavy stubble on his cheeks scratched me and I reveled in the burn—anything to hurt me, so that I didn’t have to relive my past.
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When it was over he pulled out and his weight disappeared.
My eyes had closed and I was unable to move.
A part of me, a big part actually, was embarrassed that I’d let him see that side of me. The less people knew about me, the better. But I knew Caelan wasn’t the type to talk about other people’s business. Besides, did he even have any friends? I thought back to the guy I’d seen him arguing with.
I was startled when my clothes were dropped on top of me.
I slowly blinked open my eyes to look at him.
He wasn’t angry, but he wasn’t happy either. His face was unreadable. He stood there with his hands on his hips, low hanging sweatpants barely clinging to his narrow frame.
“I won’t tell anyone,” he finally said.
“Wh-what?” I stuttered, thinking he was talking about what had transpired between us. If anyone was home, they had to have heard. We weren’t exactly quiet. Okay, he was, but I definitely wasn’t.
He swirled a finger at me, watching me with a calculated gaze. “Whatever it is that haunts you. I won’t tell anyone. Your problems are your own. And I promise I won’t Google you,” his voice dropped low and anger flared. “Your business is your business. Whatever happens between us,” he pointed at himself and then me, “I don’t need to know what your problems are. This,” he hissed, “isn’t a fucking relationship. It’s just sex. Okay?”
I couldn’t help laughing hysterically at that. Did he really think I wanted more than that? The two of us could never work. People like us, we didn’t fall in love, and we certainly didn’t get a fairytale ending. Life wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t going to heal him and he wasn’t going to heal me. Our problems were far bigger than something we could solve so easily.
“Okay.”
And so it began.
CHAPTER 12
Sutton
When I opened the door to leave Caelan’s apartment, luck was not on my side.
Cyrus was also leaving his.
He saw me and stopped in his tracks, a slow smile spreading over his lips as he fought laughter.
“’Bout time,” he finally said.
“Shut it, Cyrus,” Caelan growled from behind me, his body suddenly pressed against mine as he glared daggers at our neighbor.