I suck in sharp breaths as my body teeters on the edge of something monumental. “I hate you.” Until this point, I’d say I’ve had dignity, pride, will power. It all goes to shit. “Please, let me come.”
I feel him smile against my neck before his fingers crook inside me. He puts just the right amount of pressure on my clit, biting my nipple through my shirt again. And then I come. Hard and relentless. I grab onto his wrist, bucking my hips and riding his fingers as wave after wave of heat courses through me.
He pushes off of me, his gaze right on me as he slips his fingers between his lips. “I would fucking ruin you if I had the chance.” And I have a feeling I’d give him that chance.
He pushes away from me and stalks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him whileI lie here, breathless and limp. I straighten my underwear and get beneath the comforter. A few seconds later I hear a low groan from inside the bathroom.
I roll over, hiding the smile on my face. I shouldn’t want his fingers inside me, and I definitely shouldn’t like that I affect him.
Then again, when in hell…
Jude
Two days.
It’s been two days since I got shitfaced off tequila and finger fucked Tor in my bed. It took every ounce of control I had not to sink my cock in her, but that’s a line I don’t want to cross, as stupid as it sounds. It’s also been two days since local investigators found the charred remains of a girl the coroner identified as Victoria Deveaux in the junkyard on the Northside of Dayton. And I still haven’t told her to leave. I haven’t told her she’s technically dead. Instead, I’ve spent the past forty-eight hours telling myself the ID I had made for her is crap.
It’s not.
She’s still here because I want her. Because every night, I dream about fucking her and end up in the shower, beating off to the thought of it while she’s in the next room.
The reason I haven’t told her to go yet is because I’m a selfish bastard.
I push the ID to the side of my empty coffee mug and bury my face in my hands. I don’t want to let her go, and no matter how much it may feel like she’s mine to keep, she’s not.
Thirty minutes and two more cups of coffee later, Tor comes into the kitchen with her bed hair and a wrinkled T-shirt. The sleep shorts I bought her hit right below the curve of her ass.
This is quickly becoming routine, and there's not one damn thing about it that should be routine.
My dick hardens when she pushes up on her toes to grab a mug, and those shorts rise just enough for me to see the tan line on her cheek. Yeah, it’s more than out of control at this point.
Tor takes a seat at the table across from me. “You know, you snore.” She lifts the coffee to her lips, inhaling like it’s a line.
“And you take up the whole bed, then throw your leg over me.” And all I can think about is the heat of her tight pussy against my thigh. “So what?”
She takes a sip. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”
I do. That’s the problem. I like way too much about her. But she doesn’t have a place in my dark life. It’s not fair to her, and my continuing to let her stay here makes me no better than Euan. He didn’t love her, and dammit, I would love her if I could. And that is the only reason I take the newspaper beneath my coffee and flip it from the sports section to the front-page headline, then shove it toward her.
A wrinkle of confusion pinches her brows. “Jude…” Her gaze meets mine, accusing and hurt. “What did you do?”
“What I had to do.”
Whatever there was between us cracks. Silent moments pass as she goes back to the paper, and that broken expression on her face slowly changes. Her cheeks redden, her nostrils flare, and this time, when she looks up at me, there’s a firestorm of outrage in her eyes.
“You don’t think you should have asked me first?”
Asked her first? That’s rich. I reach for my cigarettes. “You may sound like the Queen of England, but that doesn’t mean I need your permission for shit, Tor.”
Just as I pull a smoke from the pack, she swats it from my hand. “You know what? Fuck you, Jude.” She pushed out of the chair so hard it topples over. “You’ve ruined my life. Quite literally. I am dead!”
Now that comment pisses me the hell off. Anger bleeds from my fingers, spreading out across my chest. “Actually, Victoria, I saved your fucking life.”