The girl who made the rain bearable. Made breathing bearable.
I didn’t nod, but I didn’t not nod either. I just stood there staring down at her.
Her palm settled on my chest right over my heart, and it took everything I had not to grab her and throw her against the wall and kiss her.
“One,” she murmured as she slid her hand up my chest to my neck.
“Two.” Her fingers curled around the back of my neck and my cock hardened.
“Three.” They tightened and tugged at the same time, drawing me downward and into her.
“Four,” she whispered.
She stood up on her tiptoes, her lips a breath away.
And then like a quivering feather, her lips brushed mine, and a groan escaped me. Christ.
Her fingers caressed the back of my neck and her body pressed into me.
“Five.” The word barely passed her lips as if she struggled to say it. And fuck, I didn’t want her to say it. I wanted more.
I felt her pull back, and everything inside me revolted.
I couldn’t. Fuck. I couldn’t let her go.
It was like I was reaching beneath the blackened surface of the water again. I needed her to breathe. For the pain to ease. For the constant coldness to melt with her touch.
But it was no longer my pain. It was ours.
I grabbed her by the hips, fingers sinking into her flesh, bruising, unforgiving. I jerked her back into me—hard.
Then I slammed my mouth down on hers. It wasn’t soft and gentle. I didn’t know how to be soft and gentle.
This was hard, raw, and uncontrollable.
I controlled everything in my life. I was always prepared. I planned.
Strategized.
But this…. There was nothing that could have prepared me for the taste of her lips. The feel of her mouth. Her touch.
She catered to every single need my body craved, and it was selfish as fuck.
But I’d let her fly away and she’d come back.
Now she was mine.
Macayla
Nothing could have prepared me for Vic kissing me. It was fire-breathing dragons igniting the pixie-fairies and sending my body into a firestorm.
Boundaries charred to ashes. Walls shattered as our mouths entwined in an inferno of heat.
It was a kiss that branded. Scarred. Singed.
His mouth was hard and demanding. Insisting I cater to his every command.
And I did. I surrendered to Vic Gate. My mind. My body. Every part of me.