Kiss the Sky (Addicted #3)(79)

“Elaborate.”

“I…need you…to move.”

He takes out his hand quickly, and he forces me on my knees. The blood rushes to my head, and he spanks me again, the sting more numbed by the booze than before. He must notice because I don’t whimper or moan or flinch forward.

He sighs in frustration and starts untying my wrists.

“Wait, no,” I say. “Stop.”

“Just months ago, you were telling me to stop from touching you. Now you want me to keep on doing so, and I’m still not going to comply with your order, Rose.” He tosses the belt aside and turns me onto my back, my head relaxing into a pillow. “You know why?” he asks, his hands on either side of my shoulders as he hovers over me.

“Because you’re an *,” I snap.

He pinches my cheeks with one hand. “Because you’re wrong. I won’t f*ck your mouth, your * or your ass when you’re drunk. I’ll f*ck you when you’re sober.” He kisses me roughly on the lips before saying once more, “Elaborate.”

On what I feel.

I stare into his deep blue eyes. Lost in the power inside them. And I take his hand for a second, and I fit it between my legs, his gaze never breaking from mine. “This is yours,” I tell him. “That’s what I feel.”

I’ve never wanted a man to toss me around how they want, how they like, using me to their desires so much before. And in this moment, I realize it doesn’t matter what I believe outside the bedroom. In life I can be powerful, but here, I can trust him to fill me with his power, his strength. That has to be okay. Because beyond all thoughts, all logic, it’s what makes me feel so f*cking good.

His lips rise. “Ca vous a pris pas mal de temps.” It took you long enough.

“How long do we have left?” I ask him softly, his body beginning to blur.

He strokes my hair. “Pour toujours.” Forever.

I smile as everything fades to black.





[ 27 ]

CONNOR COBALT



I dry my wet hair with a towel and button my pants, watching Rose sleep peacefully, tucked in a red and brown quilt. Before I put a shirt on, she stirs with a low groan and squints in the darkness. The only light comes from a sliver in the bear-printed curtains.

“Good morning, darling.” I sit on the edge of the bed and grab the water off the nightstand. “Comment te sens-tu ?” How do you feel?

She slowly rises against the headboard, a hand to her temple. Her hair sticks up in five different places. I try hard to conceal my smile, but seeing Rose this disheveled happens—almost never. And I adore this side of her just as much as any other.

“I have no idea what you just said,” she yawns with a hand to her mouth. “My hangover has destroyed your French.”

“Impossible,” I tell her. “Your hangover can’t defeat me.”

She’s too tired and hung over to banter. She just yawns again. “Really…what did you say?”

I pass her the water and she takes a small sip.

“How do you feel?” I repeat.

“Like I spent five weeks prepping for the Academic Bowl Championships.”

“So not that bad then?” I smile.

Her eyes narrow. “Not all of us were able to study for two hours and retain every single piece of information.”

“I studied more than two hours for the collegiate championships.” I reach over and grab the Advil on the nightstand and pop the cap. “You just weren’t at Penn to see me, which was a shame. We could have studied together.” I pause before I add, “I’m an excellent tutor. Just ask your sister.”

She rolls her eyes but there’s a smile behind them. Because if I didn’t tutor Lily in economics, she believes we wouldn’t be here today. But I make my own fate. We came together because we both wanted to be here more than anywhere else. We both had choices, and we both said yes to this, to us.

That’s not fate.

It’s just desire.

And determination. Ambition. Resolve.

We have it all.

“How much do you remember from last night?” I ask, expecting the answer to be something I hate. I’m almost certain everything with the strawberries and beyond has been swept from her mind by vodka. I’ve already come to terms with it, but before I drifted off to sleep, all I wanted was for those moments to be recorded and ingrained for life. What if they never happen again?

It’s the what if that clenches my heart in five different ways.

“How much can you remember?” she shoots back, drinking more water. I almost have her hostile nature back completely.

“All of it.”

“And how is that possible? You drank more than me.”

“You remember that?” I frown.

“Yes, Richard.”

After a long pause, I say, “I have a high tolerance.” It’s not entirely true. I’ve been on Adderall for a while now. Ever since I returned to Frederick’s office, I went on a one week silent-streak until he prescribed me Adderall again. He caved on the seventh day, wanting to discuss my life so he could analyze all the details.

Mixing Adderall and alcohol is not a good or smart combination. The pills diluted the effects of the alcohol, so I was coherent for longer.