Forgotten Rules (Rules 4)

His eyes cut to my face, full of question marks.

“No?”

“That’s right. No. You don’t get to decide what I need.”

A painful pit crawling up my throat, I unbuckle his seat belt, climbing onto his lap before he can protest. I straddle him, caging his body with mine, threatening to tear his walls down with a weapon he thought harmless.

Proximity.

If he’s going to lie to me, he’d better look me straight in the eyes while he does it. And if he truly wants me gone, he’s going to have to reach through my chest and rip out my beating heart himself.

He doesn’t move a muscle, his gaze drilled to the dashboard.

“Look at me,” I command, angling his chin forward and robbing him of a choice. He winces at the eye contact. “Read my lips. I’m. Not. Fucking. Leaving.”

I can see him fighting it. Fighting us. Swimming against the current of not one, but a thousand seas, facing a tidal wave he knows will kill him, but he’d rather it be him…

Than me.

“I’m going to ruin you, Kass.”

“Then ruin me.”

The second my lips descend upon his, he surrenders himself over, kissing me so hard I stagger backward. He holds me in position, his arm knotting around my waist. He kisses me like I’m his last wish and he’s a dying man. His lips taste like all that is bright and warm in the world.

But… they also taste like all that is dark and cold.

He’s falling apart.

I can’t stomach seeing him like this.

How long has he been denying himself anything real? How many good things has he pulled the plug on in fear of life screwing him over? All I know is I can’t take another minute of that look in his eyes. So, I do the only thing I can think of to chase it away.

I unbuckle his belt.

His breath jumps when I tug his jeans down with frantic, clumsy hands.

“Baby, wait, we don’t… We don’t have to do this,” he rasps, the lust in his voice dismantling his credibility.

He wants this.

I want this.

He just needs to let me give it to him. I sneak a hand inside his briefs and free him. He pops out between us.

Straining.

Thick.

Hard.

He opens his mouth to argue, and I shut him up with a slow, longing kiss, fumbling with the hem of his T-shirt and jerking it over his head. I pull back to drink in his ridiculously defined body, running my fingertips along the cut of his pecs, his abs, and finally, bunching the summer dress I wore to impress his mother up my thighs. His eyes flare as I wiggle my panties down my legs, tracking the movement with eager attention.

I grip his length.

He groans.

“Kass, did you hear me?”