But he doesn’t resist when I nudge him backward. He steps back, sits down on the bed, and leans back. When I grab the hem of his sweater and pull it off, when I run my hand down his bare chest, his breath catches. His body strains toward me, pushes into my touch. I put my hands on the buckle of his belt, brush over his hard-on, and a ragged groan leaves his lips.
“Shit,” he rasps, his eyes fluttering shut. “Oh shit.”
“Want me to stop?”
“No. Dammit, don’t.” The knot in his throat moves as he swallows. “Meg, please…”
One thought buzzes in my mind as I undo the buckle and unzip his pants.
Breaking Rafe Vestri won’t be pretty, that’s for sure. But watching him come undone, finally tearing through his walls, seeing him as he truly is inside…that will be beautiful.
PART II
I’m not who you think I am
My smiles don’t cut to the bone
My laughter doesn’t touch my soul
That part of me is gone
Dead and buried, dead and buried
I saw the angel of death
He had God’s handprint on his arm
He had no wings, he couldn’t fly
Neither can I, too many sins
This is the end, crows and ravens
This is the end, bones and feathers
Birds feast on me, they feast on me
The road is a dead end
I’m not what you think I am
Can’t fucking let go of my past
I talk to ghosts and can’t forget
That all roads lead to the end
Dead and buried, dead and buried
All paths return to me
Where my guilt lies, where my fear coils
Where the wound festers
and blood boils
I saw the angel of death