“If you’re going to kill me for putting you away, then do it. All this nauseating foreplay is boring me.”
“Nauseating, huh? Boring?”
Before she could respond, I stole her lips with mine in a hard kiss as I shared my leftover blood with her and did my best to bruise her.
“You have no fucking clue what you do to me, do you?” I asked when I finally allowed her air to breathe. Her lips were stained in crimson red, and there were little bite marks from where I had bit her. Nice. I couldn’t explain the unspoken need to mark her, but it felt right.
She was breathing hard as if she’d just run a race. I think the sappy love stories would say ‘I stole her breath away.’
“I told you not to touch me,” she panted.
“And yet here I am.”
She hadn’t realized I had taken the gun from her, flipped the safety on, and stuck it in my jeans. My hands itched to touch her, but I braced them against the wall again and watched her squirm under my gaze.
“I hate you.”
“You don’t hate me.” I lowered my lips to her neck and licked the spot where her pulse was beating faster than usual. “You hate that you can’t.”
“I should say the same to you.” I heard the angry bite in her voice and smiled.
“You’re right. I don’t hate you, Monroe. Not anymore. I’m obsessed with you,” I admitted.
“Why do I get the feeling that is much worse?” she whispered woefully. I lifted my head to meet her eyes, and I could see the question and the fear. “Why are you here, Keiran?”
“I told you I needed to see…”
“Me?” she whimpered.
“Yes.”
“You needed to see if I was still afraid?”
She now had a faraway look in her eyes, and I experienced the unfamiliar, yet intense need to hold her and protect her from the world, but most of all from me.
I remember the first time I felt a similar need.
I had just come back from a summer at basketball camp. Instead of fun, it had been grueling and a waste. I got into countless fights, many of which I started and stayed pissed practically the entire time. It was the first time I’d been away from Monroe for so long. The school year began, and I saw her walking down the hall the first day of school. She looked so beautiful. She was different now, too. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was a more womanly quality about her. I had reached out to caress her face as if it were the most natural thing to do. It was her flinch that brought reality crashing down on my shoulders, and I quickly recovered by slapping her books out of her hand. I had to force my feet to keep moving and fight the urge to look back.
It wasn’t until I had her for the first time that I realized the petty shit I had done to her gave me only a false sense of satisfaction. Making her fear me was only half the battle. I needed to make her want me, too.
“Yes,” I lied. I didn’t give a damn about her fear anymore, but I would lie if I said I didn’t still want to control her.
“Well, then I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“You didn’t.” I shrugged and moved away to sit on her bed. I needed the space just as much as she did. At this point, it wouldn’t take much for me to fuck her right there against the wall. It would be hard and unapologetic. I would make her want it, and then I would make her cry before leaving her like always.
“I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
“So you said.” The murderous glint in her eye, and then the way she stared down at her hand in shock as she finally realized her gun was gone, told me what she was thinking. “I took it from you while I kissed you, silly.”
“Give it back.”
“Why did you get a gun?” I didn’t try to hide my smugness. I wanted her to know I was aware of my effect on her.