She slowly pulls away, her head bent, like she can’t look at me. “I trusted you, Jordan. I told you that you could talk to me about anything, that I would be there for you no matter what, and you still dumped me after the blowjob. Just like you do with all the other girls.”
“It wasn’t like that—” I start, but she cuts me off with a look.
“It was exactly like that. I gave almost everything to you, and in the end, you dumped me. I’m just like the rest of them. You discarded me as if I was trash and never really talked to me again. Not even for our project.” The tears start back up. “Who does that? What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you care about anyone?”
“No!” The word explodes out of my mouth and I pull away from her, run my hands through my hair in frustration. “I don’t. I care about no one. Not my parents, not my so-called friends, not anyone. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?”
She stares at me like I’m some sort of freak. Unshed tears fill her eyes and I want to go to her, catch the tears with my thumb, kiss her pain away.
But I can’t. I’m the one who caused her so much pain. I have to leave her alone.
“Why are you like this?” Her voice is a harsh whisper. “Why?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I can blame my mom and dad. They’re fucked up, Amanda. More fucked up than I am.”
She grabs my hand and laces her fingers with mine, and that is my undoing. That I can be so awful to her and she still cares, she still wants to help me…
I can’t resist her. Instead, I pull her into my arms.
Having her like this, holding her like this, relaxes me. It’s been too long. The past few weeks have felt like years. My entire body sways toward her, like it’s desperate to get close and I have no control.
Amanda curls her hand around my nape, her fingers tightening into my skin. When she angles her head slightly to the right…
We’re kissing. Our mouths drawn to each other like we can’t fight it, fight this, whatever we have brewing between us. The kiss turns hot and deep in an instant and I pull her in close, whirl her around so she’s the one pressed against the wall as I continue to devour her sweet mouth. She grabs hold of me, a whimper sounding low in her throat, and I slip my hands around her, under her, gripping her ass and hauling her up so her legs go around my hips.
I pin her against the wall with just my body and unleash my everything on her. We kiss like we never plan on coming up for air, and my hands wander. Search and explore. Reacquainting myself with her body. This body that feels like it belongs to me.
Only one word pounds through my head, throbs with my heart.
Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
She’s mine.
And I’m never going to let her forget it.
It’s both a relief and pure torture, being in Jordan’s arms again. My back is against the door, his hard body pressed to mine, my legs wound around his hips. We kiss and kiss, and sometimes it feels like a battle. Like he’s trying to conquer me. But then the kiss softens, his lips lingering on mine, his tongue doing an achingly slow sweep...
I don’t ever want this to stop. But it has to. And when it stops, the pain will come again.
Just like before.
I break away from his lips first and he tries to kiss me again, but I turn my head away. “We can’t keep doing this.”
He touches my cheek, forces me to look at him once more. “Yeah, we can.”
His mouth settles on mine gently. Slowly he works his magic, his lips and tongue persuasive, until I’m a moaning, writhing mass of hormones. He rocks against me and I can feel him, hard and long and rubbing me in just the right spot. Our bodies fit perfectly; our mouths fit perfectly too. But we aren’t perfect. We are far from it.
How could something that feels this good end up hurting us so bad?
“Jordan.” I whisper his name against his lips, but he ignores me. I say it again, shoving at his shoulders, and finally he withdraws, his expression wondrous, a little dazed.
“What?”
“Put me down.” My voice is firm. My emotions are everywhere, but I need to keep it together. Remain strong. Remain in control.
He does as I ask, setting me on my feet, and I stare at his chest, see the tear stains soaked through his T-shirt. I release a shuddery breath and lift my gaze to his.
“We can’t keep doing this,” I repeat.
Jordan frowns. “Doing what?”
“Kissing each other. Ignoring each other. Arguing with each other. You can’t have it both ways, Jordan.”
His frown deepens, but he remains quiet.
“I need to know.” I take a deep breath and exhale loudly, trying to calm my tumultuous emotions, but it’s impossible. “How you feel. If you’re serious about this—about us. About me.”
His silence feels like an answer, and I tilt my head to the side, so very weary of the constant game playing. “Just let me out of here. Please.”
“I want to be,” he whispers, and I step back, confused.
“You want to be what?”
“Serious. About this. About us. About you.” He hesitates. “But I don’t know how.”