Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(73)

She blinks, her gaze never leaving mine. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t have a mother. I don’t know who she is. My dad treated me like I was nothing but a burden.” And when I grew older, I turned into his drinking and let’s-troll-for-hot-chicks buddy. It wasn’t a healthy relationship, and that’s an understatement. “I’ve never had a real relationship.”

“What about Pilar?”

“It’s complicated. Hard to define.” Our relationship confuses everyone, including me.

“What about me?” she asks quietly.

“What about you?”

“Do you want me?”

“Yes.” I f*cking burn for her.

She pulls her sweater up and over her head, revealing she’s wearing no bra. She strips her leggings off and she’s not wearing any panties, either. In a matter of seconds Violet is as naked and vulnerable as I am, and I have never seen her look more beautiful.

“Then you can have me,” she whispers.

Chapter Twenty-one

Violet

I’m giving myself to Ryder like some sort of offering and he takes it without hesitation, coming for me with a fierce determination I find both terrifying and exciting. He grabs hold of me and sweeps me into his arms like I don’t weigh a thing, pausing at the beginning of the short hall that leads to my bedroom.

“Last door on the left,” I tell him, linking my hands around the back of his neck. I press my cheek against his chest, feel the thundering of his heart. It beats as fast as mine and the sound reassures me. Fills me with hope that maybe something more could come of this after all.

But deep down inside, I know the truth. We’re not meant to be. Not forever. This is temporary, what Ryder and I share. Like a meteor shooting across the sky, bright and hot and thrilling to watch, until it fizzles and burns into nothing.

We enter my bedroom and he looks around, still clutching me close. The windows are open, the gauzy white curtains billowing out with the breeze. There’s a candle burning on the bedside table that I lit right before he knocked on my door, and the bedcovers are rumpled since I was too lazy to make the bed when I woke up this morning.

Carefully he sets me on my feet, my body sliding along his the entire way down. His skin is so hot, his body so hard. I keep my hands around his neck and press my lips to the center of his chest, absorbing the sound of his heart, wondering if it’s as dark and broken as he believes. If given the chance, I would work my hardest to heal him. To make him whole.

But I’m pretty sure my chance is already gone.

“Violet.” He sifts his fingers through my hair as I run my lips across his chest. I love it when he says my name. I love it more when he touches me. Excitement spirals through me when my lips meet metal and I tongue his nipple ring, teasing it lightly before I draw it into my mouth and suck.

“Jesus,” he groans, his fingers going tight in my hair as he holds me to him. I move to his other nipple and tease it with gentle flicks of my tongue, sucking the thin metal ring into my mouth. He pulls my hair, the pain mixing with the pleasure, and I moan, confused by my reaction, by the surge of wetness that floods my sex.

I release his nipple and he grabs me by the waist, pushing me back onto the center of the bed. He follows me down, his big, hot body covering mine completely. He braces his hands on either side of my head and deliberately flexes his hips against mine so I can feel his hard cock rest against my belly, the tip warm and damp. My entire body flutters in anticipation of feeling him move inside me.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his gaze dark as it sweeps over my chest. My nipples harden almost painfully and I desperately want his mouth on them.

“For what?” I ask, confused.

“For letting me touch you. For letting me have you tonight.” He kisses me, another sweet, sexy kiss. His tongue dances with mine and I push my hands into his hair, clutching him close.

“You don’t have to thank me,” I murmur when he breaks away from my lips to rain kisses along my neck. “You didn’t have to ask for permission, either. You already own me.”

He lifts his head to look at me, his expression full of pain. “Don’t say that.”

I blink at him in surprise. “But it’s true.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You don’t want me to own you. You don’t know me. Not really.”

“I want to know you better,” I admit. “And I know you won’t hurt me.”

Breathing deep, his chest brushes against mine and he closes his eyes. “I can’t make that promise.”

I reach up and cup his cheek, his stubble prickling my palm. He turns his head and kisses my hand, his lips branding me, and I want to feel them everywhere. Branding me. Making me his. “I don’t care,” I whisper. “You don’t scare me.”

“I should.” He moves down my body, kissing me everywhere just as I wished for a moment ago. My shoulders, my collarbone, my breasts; he sucks first one nipple deep into his mouth, then the other, biting it so hard I cry out. “I’ll hurt you. Again and again. I don’t know how to do it any other way,” he murmurs against my skin.

I can’t answer him. I don’t know how to answer him. Whatever’s happening between us isn’t normal. It isn’t right. It can’t be.

But I don’t want him to stop.