My Beautiful Poison (Wicked Poison 1)

Goddammit.!

I slam the door shut and punch the wall. Hard as fuck.

Chapter 21

Rylee

“Move over,” a deep voice rumbles next to me.

I open my eyes, but my room is dark. I know who it is straight away, though. His smell envelops me, and his hands wrap around my mid-section, putting me at ease with his touch.

“August,” I say, but he doesn’t say anything back, just pulls me to him. I go because I can’t think of a better place to be than wrapped in his arms. My head lies on his chest as his hand plays circles on my back. “Are you sore?” I ask him, my eyes lifting to his other shoulder where I know he was hurt.

“Only a little,” he finally says.

I sit up and flick the lamp on next to the bed so I can see him. August isn’t wearing his shirt and only has on a pair of boxers. I reach my hand down and touch his taut stomach, and his eyes close for a brief second before they open again, staring at me.

“What are you doing to me?”

I don’t think he realizes he’s voiced those words out loud. I stand and drop my nightgown to the floor, and his eyes trace every part of me, watching me eagerly but not once moving. His eyes are drunk on me.

“When your hands touch me, it makes me feel alive,” I tell him.

Stepping to his side of the bed, I reach for his hand and place it on my stomach.

“Even the simplest touch.” I drop my hand, but his hand stays where it is. I watch him draw circles on my skin before his hand drops between my legs, tracing me.

“You don’t want this,” he says, but his hands don’t leave my body. “It would be a grave mistake to want more from me.” His finger enters me and slides back out. “You’re the rich girl from the right side of the tracks. I will be your worst mistake.”

“Or my favorite one yet,” I reply as his fingers grip my waist. I climb on his lap, and he grips me tighter. “Tell me, August, do you feel anything when I touch you?”

He stays silent as I watch him. I wait, not daring to breathe.

I’m eager for his words.

Hungry for them.

He never minces his words with me. It’s one of the things I like about him.

“You don’t want my words, rich girl. You want my body.”

“I want both. Now, tell me the truth… stop hiding behind them.”

He sits up fast, his chest coming into contact with mine as his hands wrap around my back, making it difficult for even a slither of air to come between us. He leans forward so our lips are almost within reach. “When you touch me, rich girl, all my pain is gone. It’s like it never existed. And you make me feel whole again.” I gasp at his words. “Is that what you want? You want me to become that person? One who tells you all those things?”

“No, I like you the way you are. But sometimes…” I lean forward, placing a soft kiss on his lips, “… it’s nice to know I’m not on this rollercoaster alone.” I kiss him with full force, passionate and strong, and he lets me. Not once does he pull back, and I try to be careful that I don’t hurt his shoulder when I touch him.

August moans into my mouth, and I push up on him until he reaches between us and positions himself right where I need him.

“Dangerous game,” he whispers as I lower myself onto him.

“All the best games are,” I murmur back.

August isn’t next to me when I wake. My bed is empty, and standing at my door is Rhianna. She holds two cups of coffee in her hands.

“You two were noisy last night. At least now I know we have that in common as well.” She laughs, stepping in and handing me a mug. I sit, taking the drink from her. “He had to leave with Noah to finalize some things. And you, missy, have to go to work. Dad called for you.”

“Shit.” I check the time and see it's way past the time I’m meant to start. I’m late. I’m never late. “Was he mad?” I ask, running around and reaching for the closest clothes I can find.

“No. He was worried.”

I’m over two hours late, that’s not like me. Ever. I slept hard. I haven’t slept in for so long, and it felt so good.

The door opens, and Rhi turns and moves out of the way and heads into the bathroom as August strolls in. I smile as I pull on my blouse and throw around a few things in my closet trying to find an appropriate pair of shoes. “I have to get to work. I’m late,” I tell him.