I'm Not Your Enemy (Enemies 2)

Sebastian wasn’t finished with me yet. He grabbed me by my shoulders and rammed me against the truck once more, and he leaned close. “I quit,” he gritted out. “Get lost on your way home and choke on your vomit for all I care. I’m done.”

Now he was finished with me.

Something pierced through me, like a sense of alarm or panic, but it pushed me forward as if I was driven by rage. Except, I didn’t get far. Just as I planted an arm across his chest, I caught the wild fury in his eyes, and it disarmed me. So did the close proximity and a whiff of his cologne.

I tried and fucking tried to shove him back. My body refused. It was busy registering all the places we were touching. A slow rush of heat made its way through me, and I swallowed against the dryness in my throat and dropped my gaze to his lips.

Maybe it was an act of desperation. Maybe bitterness and jealousy from before—with that other guy. Maybe I’d just lost my last shred of sanity.

Ignoring the evident anger in his posture, I closed the distance and kissed him.

He went rigid. His hands came to my arms, and I knew he was a fraction of a second away from either pushing me back or drop-kicking me. So I let weeks of anguish take the wheel, and I poured myself into the kiss. I locked an arm around his neck and pleaded silently. I needed one moment. Please don’t fucking reject me tonight. I couldn’t take it.

Goose bumps rose all over, and a hungry sound escaped me when I felt his hand on my cheek. The relief that welled up as he tentatively kissed me back—I couldn’t describe it.

He changed the air around us when he went all in and took charge. My back hit the truck once more, but no one was throwing punches this time. He shifted his hands to my jaw, then slid his fingers back to my neck and up into my hair as he angled me for a deep, demanding kiss.

For fear I’d startle him out of a decision he was undoubtedly going to regret, I made sure not to make another sound. I followed him instead, easily sinking into the pace he set, the rhythm he controlled. Every time he swept his tongue alongside mine, I had to swallow a moan. He brought me back to this summer and to all the moments he’d used my body like the fucking expert he was. He knew exactly which buttons to push and how to turn me into a pleading whore.

Life became good again. This was the hit I’d come back for throughout my stay this summer. When we were together, I wasn’t anxious.

I let my hands roam his chest and back, feeling his muscles underneath my fingertips. His tee was in the way. Fuck, we were in the wrong place altogether. I wanted his bed, I wanted him working me relentlessly and repeatedly, I wanted bruises and marks.

As we made out, I got rid of my jacket and threw it onto the passenger’s seat.

He drew a ragged breath and kissed his way down my neck. At the same time, I squeezed his ass to me, pressing his hard cock against my own. I couldn’t help but moan. Sparks of desire shot through me, and—

“You’re wasted,” he said, breathing heavily.

Fuck. He couldn’t back down.

“I can still list all the presidents and about a hundred reasons why me bendin’ over for you is a good idea.”

He groaned and kissed me again, brutally hard, and it was easy to tell he was warring with himself.

“We were never a good idea, Blake.”

That pissed me off. He wanted me too—he couldn’t fucking deny it. Hell, I could prove it. I looked him dead in the eye and started unbuttoning his jeans.

“Yet, here you are,” I said. “You’d rather drill into my ass than go home to your new boyfriend.”

His eyes flashed with anger. “Some of us have morals. If I was in an exclusive relationship, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

“But there’s something going on between y’all.” I dared him to say I was wrong.

He chuckled darkly and batted away my hands. Then he spun me around, trapped me against the truck, and shoved down my jeans. A breath hitched in my throat.

“You wanna know the truth?” He spoke through gritted teeth and kicked my knees apart. “He asked me out a few weeks ago.”

Son of a bitch, I fucking knew it. Another rush of jealousy flooded me, and it tripped me up. My heart pounded, my skin was hypersensitive, and the urgency within me blazed like wildfire.

The sound of a condom wrapper being torn invaded my ears.

“We went out for beers,” he went on. “He asked me all the right questions, showed interest in the Quad and what I do…”