She thought I’d wanted to hurt her. She thought I’d meant for people to see that video. She thought I wanted to trick her.
The only motive I had was to be around her, and if I had to lie to get it…
I wasn’t taking responsibility for everything. She liked it.
“’I think I love you,” I said, repeating her words to me all those years ago. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I want you to be my first. It’s okay. Touch me.” I stepped up to her, invading her space and throwing all of her shame back at her. “You’ll be the first to kiss me here.” I flicked her ear. “And here.” I touched her neck. “And here.” I brushed her nipple with my thumb. “I want to feel your body on mine. Am I okay? Am I doing it right? It feels good. Don’t stop. Oh, God. Oh, God. Don’t walk away. Please, I want this. You don’t have to protect me. You want it, too. I’m okay. I want it. I want to feel you so bad.”
I threaded my hand through the back of her hair and fisted it, holding her still. “And then you spread those pretty legs for me.”
“I thought you were someone else!”
“I was,” I challenged. “I was someone you kinda liked.”
She shook her head, more denying herself than me as tears welled in her eyes. “You were a lie,” she said. “And all you are now is pathetic. You didn’t earn a cent of the money you throw around, and those men don’t guard you because you’re Damon Torrance. They guard you because you’re Gabriel’s son. You’re nothing!”
I shook her. Bitch.
“I was proof that people change,” I told her.
“The only thing you’re proof of is that not all males grow up to be men.”
I released her, slamming my hand into the wall behind her. She shoved me away and darted around me, holding out her hands to find the bannister and scurrying up the stairs.
I hesitated for a moment before I ran after her, charging up the stairs.
I caught her and spun her around, holding her in my arms and crushing her to me. “Arion thinks I’m a man,” I told her, keeping my voice low and taunting. “She’ll touch me like I’m a man. She’ll ride me in my bed and swallow me, because she wants what she thinks was yours.”
Her jaw tightened, and she didn’t move other than to breathe.
Do you want her to touch me? Do you even care?
“And she thinks she can do me better and erase you from my memory,” I said.
“I don’t care.”
Her expression was flat, and her voice was mechanical.
I nodded, ignoring the needles in my throat. “Good,” I said, feeling her breath on my mouth. “Because when you hear us tonight, I want you to know it’s because I don’t care, either. There’s nothing of you for her to erase.” I gripped the back of her head again, pressing her forehead into mine. “And in your bed tonight, when it’s late and dark, and the rest of the house is quiet, except for my wife’s moans down the hall and you’re pissed and angry, because you think you hate me, but you slip a hand under the covers anyway, because no one will be the wiser if you indulge yourself in the memory of me, I just want you to also know…” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “that’s what red feels like. Anger and fury and heat and need so strong you’re a fucking animal, Winter. It’s primal.”
A tear spilled out of the corner of her eyes, and I could feel her fucking heart pounding in her chest.
I released her, pushing her away and backing up toward my bedroom. “I’ll fuck her and make you come, too.”
Winter
Seven Years Ago
“I can always tell when they arrive,” I remarked, sticking a nugget to the end of my fork. “You all get so quiet.”
A few laughs go off around the lunch table as Noah, Rika, and the other girls check out the horsemen, whom I’ve also become aware of in my short time here. It was easy to notice when one or all of them entered a room. The chatter changed, there would be a whisper or two, and while I’d love to get caught up in the intrigues of Thunder Bay Prep, it was probably best I couldn’t see how hot they reportedly were. We were freshman, and they were seniors and completely out of our league.
I already had a crush anyway. My insides tingled every time I thought about our escapades in the car and motorcycle last night. I was more than ready for my first kiss, and while I wasn’t sure what his interest in me was, he clearly wasn’t reading my deep-seated, teenage desire for some heat. Maybe he didn’t see me like that at all.
After the motorcycle ride, we got into his car, he took me home, and I went to bed, no one in my family the wiser that I’d even been gone. I thought we would talk more, or I’d get some kind of idea if he’d be back and when, but he didn’t say anything, and neither did I. That wasn’t the last time I’d talk to him, right? I mean, that was no way to say goodbye.
I dreamt of him last night and woke up concocting a hot little fantasy in my head of him finding me years down the road and doing passionate things to me. I ached when I remembered I didn’t want to wait that long to be with him again, though. If ever.
The only bright side I could find in possibly never feeling him again was that your first love was a learning experience. Or so my mom said. They’re not the ones you marry, she told me. They’re the ones who break you, so you can rebuild yourself better. Stronger.