Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)(89)

River still doesn’t say anything.

We move to head back to the car.

When we get back to the house, River goes right for the stairs. She was quiet for the whole drive back to the house too, her face with the skull still painted on it set into a tight mask.

I follow her upstairs, right on her heels.

She walks into her bedroom, and before she can shut the door, I walk in after her.

Finally, that gets a reaction out of her.

She whirls around, her eyes burning. “What the fuck do you want, Gage?” she demands.

“I know,” is all I say.

“What?” She looks pissed off and confused, not understanding what I mean.

“I waited years for my father to die,” I tell her. “I wished for it every day. Counted down the hours and the fucking seconds until he was done. And when he finally did die, I thought I’d feel free. Finally. After all that time waiting and waiting and fucking waiting. I thought there would be a massive weight off my shoulders, and I’d feel like I could breathe again without thinking about the shit he pulled every second of the day. But it didn’t work out like that. Him being dead didn’t just magically make it all go away.”

River just glares at me and folds her arms. “Thanks for the pep talk. Stick to running your shitty club because you suck at motivational speeches.”

She walks away from me, going into the bathroom. Someone else might consider that the end of the conversation and leave her alone, but I follow her again, coming up behind her where she stands in front of the sink. She tries to pretend I’m not there, but I grab her face with one hand, fingers on either side of her chin, and turn her to face the mirror, making her look at her smeared skull makeup. At herself. There’s anger in her face, edging out that lost, blank look from before, but I don’t know if it’s enough.

“River, listen to me. I know you usually don’t give a shit about what I have to say, but fucking listen. You won’t be free just because the last name is off your list,” I tell her. “You’ll only be free when you decide it’s done. When you can let it go.”

I look at her face, trying to see if any of this is registering with her. There’s just anger there, burning in those dark blue eyes.

“What makes you so fucking wise all of a sudden?” she snaps, lashing out. “You’re handing out all this advice like you know shit about how I feel. Have you decided you’re free of whatever bullshit is in your past? Have you beaten back your demons?”

I know what she’s trying to do, but I wrap my arms around her anyway, dragging her in tight against my body, her back to my front. She’s still in her outfit from earlier, and I can feel the heat of her against me.

“No,” I admit. “But this isn’t about me. It’s not about my demons. It’s about yours.”

“You don’t know shit about my demons,” she snaps.

I just laugh. “I don’t have to. Doesn’t matter the shape of them. I know what it feels like to be weighed down by them every fucking day. I know what it feels like when you think you’ve done enough to get them off your back and it turns out you haven’t. I understand.”

“Shut up,” River growls. She arches in my hold, like she’s trying to break free of my arms. I’m not immune to her outfit, or the way her body feels against mine, and my cock is hard in my pants. River presses back against me, rubbing right into my erection, and I bite back a groan, but push my hips forward, grinding hard against her.

Her breathing comes faster, and I can feel the desperation in her. It’s echoed in me, us and our demons looking for release. Two desperate souls just doing the fucking best we can.

She stops fighting against me and leans into me instead, and then turns in my arms, eyes blazing. I don’t have time to say anything or even get a good look at her before she’s leaning up and slamming her lips into mine.





38





RIVER





OUR LIPS CRASH together again and again, hot, hard, and desperate. I can feel it in myself and the way it’s answered in him. He was talking like he knows how I feel, like he understands me, and I hated it, but there’s something about this kiss that makes me think he might actually be right.

His fingers dig into my jaw again, pressing against my skin, and he uses that hold to control the kiss. He tips my head back with that grip and then plunges his tongue into my mouth, devouring me in a way that makes heat burn through me.

I answer him by twining my tongue with his, giving as good as I get and teasing and tempting him to kiss me more, harder, better.

Gage meets that challenge head on. He bites down on my lower lip and tugs it into his mouth, sucking on it lightly before biting down harder, making sure I can feel it.

I fist my hands in his shirt, holding on tight while I rock in the waves of heat and sensation that rise in me.

When we finally break apart, my makeup is smeared all over his lips, white and black, a messy sort of claim. He’s panting lightly, and he looks at me with that intense stare before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Get on your knees,” he tells me, voice low and firm. It’s the voice he uses when he wants to get shit done and expects to be obeyed.

Usually, I’d tell him to go fuck himself for giving me orders, but now there’s the distraction of the arousal beating against my ribcage in time with my heartbeat, and I want to do what he says.