All of Me (Confessions of the Heart 2)

Unable to resist the connection, I dropped my forehead to hers, a choked sound leaving me, pain and wounds and the overpowering desire to protect her.

To keep her and hold her.

I squeezed my eyes closed, rocking forward and rocking back, pained pants leaving my lungs as I warred with this feeling.

With the compulsion.

Compelled to find this girl in a way I’d never found another.

There was nothing I could do.

My mouth slanted over hers, and I felt myself slip into oblivion.

Our lips pressed softly.

Once.

Twice.

God, she tasted so good. So right. So perfect.

The sweetest, juiciest plum.

It was instant. The way delirium raced.

A need unlike I’d never had before.

Wanting to consume all of her.

Like taking of her could fill up the hollowed-out space in my chest. Provide and sustain.

My hand twisted in her soft hair, and I slanted my mouth over hers, swallowing her needy gasp as I kissed her.

I kissed her.

“Ian.” On a raspy moan, her fingernails sank into my shoulders, raking my skin, trying to get closer.

Her tongue sought mine.

A soft, sugared petal.

Swirling so deliciously.

Ecstasy.

I’d never known it quite like this.

I kissed her harder, possessively, lips and tongue and nips of teeth. I wanted to devour her, gulp her down and gorge on her beauty.

She kissed me back just as recklessly. Hands everywhere. The two of us spiraling. Spinning as we banged into the wall, the door, the sink.

Hot, hot kisses.

A fever in my veins.

Need, want . . . love.

Oh, God.

Was pretty sure that was when the thread of sanity finally snapped.

When I lost all control. Mind gone. Insanity taking over. Everything I’d fought and overcome and put behind me finally caught up to me.

There were some things in life you couldn’t outrun.

Fear.

My oldest friend. My constant partner. Cold and hungry and afraid.

It gripped me everywhere, in a way I hadn’t felt since I was seventeen.

My chest tightened and everything came crashing down.

Raining.

Pouring.

Annihilating.

Panic gripped me by the chest. A steely vice. Crushing.

I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t.

I pressed my hands to her shoulders and pried myself away, lungs jerking as I sucked for the air that had gone missing, horrified as I stared down at the girl who was watching me with what I couldn’t receive.

Panic took control of my shaking movements, and I snatched my shirt up from the floor, shrugged it on, and flew out the door.

Twenty-Eight

Ian

Twelve Years Old

Ian shot upright in his bed. Darkness surrounded him. He blinked, disoriented, his sight almost completely taken by the deep, desolate night.

But he knew he’d heard it.

The front door bursting open and banging against the wall.

His heart took off the way it always did, fear creeping up behind him like a monster that would jump on his back and sink its fangs into the side of his throat.

Drain him dry.

Ian struggled to breathe.

He wanted to burrow under the blanket. Hide. But that’s what cowards did, and Ian was no coward.

His brother told him he had to be brave.

That he had to take care of himself.

He shoved off the itchy fabric and stood, his knees shaking so badly he almost dropped to them when he heard a crash of shattering glass and the whimper of his mother, all of it muddled together with another voice.

Gulping down the terror, Ian inched to the door, squeezing his eyes closed as he turned the knob and sneaked out into the hall. A hazy light glowed from the main room of the apartment.

This one was nicer than they’d had for as long as he could remember, the refrigerator full and the water always warm when he wanted a shower.

His mama said she was going to take good care of them from now on. She’d promised that she hated it when they were cold and hungry, and that she was going to make sure it never happened ever again.

She said she was clean. That she was going to stay that way. That she wasn’t going to touch that crap ever again.

Best part? His mama . . . she’d seemed . . . happy. Smiling so much that it made Ian think it might be safe to smile, too.

But the sounds coming from the kitchen didn’t sound like she was smiling.

“Fuck you,” she whimpered. “Get out of my house, you piece of shit.”

Ian pushed his back up against the hall wall and slid that direction, wishing his big brother Jace wasn’t still off with his friends.

He’d know what to do.

There was another crash, and his mother screeched. Her footsteps pounded on the floor. Heavier ones were right behind her.

Fear raced across Ian’s flesh like the prick of a million needles when he heard the man’s low, menacing voice. “Your house? I bought you, you stupid bitch. You think any of this comes for free?”

Ian peeked around the corner, and the man was trying to put his mouth on his mother, his body way bigger than his mom’s, so muscly and hard, Ian was worried he could break her in half.