We can’t do this.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
“He didn’t touch me, and no, I never think about you,” I lie. Fuck it. I might as well live up to the name he keeps calling me.
I think about you all the time.
“Me either. I never think about you.” His fingers trail down my arm, and goosebumps follow in the wake of his touch. I want to lean into him, let him burn me, because I know if I give myself to him, he will, he’ll burn me so badly I won’t even recognize myself when he’s done with me. His hand drops to my hip, and my chest heaves, my lungs tightening. An entire zoo of butterflies take flight in my stomach.
Oh lord. “Did he touch you here?” Those devilish lips of his press against the shell of my ear, and I tip my head back against his firm chest, my eyes drifting closed while I give myself over to the pleasure of his touch. His deft fingers skim across the front of my yoga pants, and my burning hot center.
“Did he?” he mumbles against my skin, and it feels like I’m on fire, literal fire. He’s burning me with the tips of his fingers, branding my flesh with his mark.
“Are you wet with need for him, or is that all for me?”
“No,” I whisper, my body humming as he runs his finger over my bikini line and back to my hip, kneading the flesh there.
Something’s wrong with me, something’s very… I don’t even get to finish that thought because he’s slipping his hand into my pants, his fingers ghosting over the edge of my panties.
“Tell me to stop… God, please tell me to stop, Ava.”
Hunger vibrates from his chest. He wants me just as badly as I want him, and for some reason that gratifies me.
Knowing he wants me while hating me at the same time. It makes me feel powerful, like I actually stand a chance against him. Tension hangs thickly between us, and just like a rubber band snapping under pressure, Vance snaps, losing his ability to make the right choice. His fingers slip beneath my panties, and I suck in a greedy breath, feeling like I’ll never be able to breathe again.
“This is wrong…so wrong. But it feels so right, doesn’t it? Tell me it feels right.” His voice drags on, his lips sucking on a patch of skin beneath my ear.
“Yes,” I admit breathlessly, leaning into him even more, wishing there wasn’t any fabric at all between us. God, I want to feel him. Want him to touch me. Take from me. I want him to show me how much he hates me, but instead of his words, I want him to use his hands.
Without warning, he rips his hand from my red hot center and spins me around so we are face to face. Facing each other feels more intimate, and suddenly I’m self-conscious my eyes skating down to his well-defined chest.
“Don’t look away…” he coaxes with a hand under my chin, tipping my head back up, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I want you to look into my eyes when you fall apart. I want you to feel who owns your pleasure and your hate. So next time you’re with him, or anyone for that matter, you remember that it’s me that makes you feel this way, and that it will always be me.”
Releasing his hold on my chin, he moves it to my hip, holding me in place, while his other hand slips back beneath the waistband of my pants.
This time there’s an urgency to his touch, he doesn’t stop at my panties, his fingers move underneath the thin fabric like they belong there. Those thick digits slide through my already drenched folds and a wicked grin pulls at his lips.
“Of course you’re already wet,” he says triumphantly as if he knew I would be.
Part of me wants to put an end to this now, to push him away, to prove to him that I’m not as weak for his touch as he is for mine, but I can’t.
I just can’t. I can’t do anything but breathe, and feel, Lord, do I feel. I feel everything, all of him, every inch.
With his thumb, he circles my hardened nub while his finger finds its way to my entrance. It’s been so long since I let someone touch me here, since I felt like this. No, I never felt like this before. I’ve had sex before, but I’ve never felt like this before, not with anyone else. There’s no comparison, it’s like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.
My skin tingles everywhere he touches me. He’s like a thunderstorm, booming, big and powerful, but full of beauty, even in the wake of destruction. I’m so confused by what I’m feeling, by the way he makes me feel. I want to turn the emotions off, forget all about him, but I can’t. I can’t let him go any more than I can untangle our pasts.