Until You (Fall Away, #1.5)(56)

Very slowly.

I knew I should just back off.

Give her time. Win back her trust.

But I’d had a taste of her, and I’d rather give up breathing.

I still made the rules, and we weren’t wasting any more time.

“Don’t try to get away,” I warned. “As you remember, I can keep you here.”

It wasn’t a threat. I just wanted her to remember. The way she’d devoured me on that kitchen counter, wanting me as much as I wanted her.

She tipped her chin down, looking hesitant. “And I know how to use pepper spray and break noses,” she retorted and leaned back, keeping a wary distance like she didn’t trust herself.

I could see her pulse beating in her neck, but she wasn’t trying to get away.

She watched me watching her, and the moment stood still as her chest rose and fell with shallow breathes.

She wanted me like I wanted her, but she didn’t like that she wanted me.

She was a mess, and I loved it.

I do that to you. No one else.

“I’m not Nate or Madoc…or Ben.”

Our noses almost touched as I searched her face. A line of sweat fell down my back, and my dick throbbed, making me feel like I was on fire.

“Don’t,” she whispered as my mouth hovered over hers.

Oh, I won’t. You will.

“I promise. Not unless you ask.” Having her feeling sorry the next day that she gave in to me would suck. I didn’t want that blame. She was going to be a part of this as much as me, and I wanted her crazed and confused over me. And then I wanted her to surrender.

I guess that’s what I’d been after all along.

I moved my lips around her face and neck, breathing her in but never kissing her.

I could still taste her, though.

My lips grazed her soft cheek, and I just about touched her lips right then when she let out a little moan.

Fuck.

Every second my mouth glided over her face, her jaw, her neck, I fought to keep my teeth from sinking into her. I was that hungry.

“Can I kiss you now?” I half asked, half pleaded.

She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no either.

“I want to touch you,” I whispered against her lips. “I want to feel what’s mine. What’s always been mine.”

Please.

Her breath caught, and I could tell she was fighting it. Weakly, she pushed me away and jumped off the car.

“Stay away from me,” she said as she headed for the passenger side.

Yeah, no.

I tried to keep my laugh quiet. “You first,” I teased.





“Give me two.” My father put down two cards to exchange, and my lips twisted up just a little.

No “How are you?”, “What’s new with you?”, or “Happy Fucking Birthday, son.”

Nothing.

I was eighteen today, and my father clearly didn’t remember.

Or he didn’t care.

I flipped two more cards off the top of the deck and tossed them across the table to him.

To hell with it. Ten minutes down, fifty to go.

We’d been silent since I arrived. Speaking, as usual, only when needed.

And my stomach was still rolling.

After the episode with Tate last night, I’d felt great. Relaxed, excited, calm.

But every week, I got sick before I came to the prison, and my high from last night was now gone. The dreadful anticipation of whatever lousy shit my father was going to say to me made me nauseous. I could never eat anything in the mornings. And most of the time, my hands shook so badly that driving was hard.

That’s why I opted to drive up last night after I’d dropped Tate off. There was no way I was going to get to sleep with my body in knots over her, so I just got the f*ck out of there. Drove up to Crest Hill. Stayed in a motel and came here as soon as visiting hours began. I usually calmed down after I left. I felt safer the closer I got to home.

The only thing that got me through the visits week after week without throwing up was the necklace.

And I hadn’t gotten that back last night.

Right now, though, my insides were caked with acid and burning a trail up my throat. It hurt, and I kept swallowing it down, hoping that he couldn’t see me thinking of her. I knew it sounded weird. How can someone see what you’re thinking? But my father had a knack for reading me, and he was the only person who made me feel weak.

“So where is it?”

I ignored his question.

Who knew what he was talking about, but I was always sorry when I let him get me to talk. I just shut the f*ck up and breathed.

“You’ve been practically keeping one hand in your pants’ pocket almost the entire time of every f*cking visit except today. What do you keep in there like a goddamn security blanket, and why don’t you have it all of a sudden?”

I chewed on my lip, tapped my foot, and then tried saying my cards in my head over and over again.

2-4-5-6-7. Spade, spade, spade, spade, heart.

The room, with its high ceilings and long hallways off to the sides, echoed with conversations I couldn’t make out, and the bustle of visitors filled the air. Light poured through the windows, but it didn’t make anything feel happier.

“You think I’m an *.” My father put another card down and spoke quietly. “I am an *, Jared. I’ve made you hard, but I’ve also made you strong. No one will hurt you again, because you’re untouchable. Even to that girl, you’re out of reach.”