Pieces of Summer (A stand-alone novel)(50)

Anger slices through me, and this time I take a step toward him.

“Since I’ve known you, you’re the only one who has ever put a price tag on our relationship, so don’t put that off on me. I never gave a damn what your bank account looked like, Chase. Not even a little bit.”

His look doesn’t soften. If anything, he looks angrier.

“Think I don’t f*cking know that, Mika? Imagine feeling like you had to be something far better to deserve the only f*cking person you wanted. You don’t have to do that. You never have!”

He has no idea. It almost makes me want to punch something, scream at someone, or just drop to the floor in tears. But I don’t.

Instead, I stand there and stare at him and let him think he’s the only one who has ever struggled, because telling him anything means I’ll lose the way he looks at me. I was once his light. If he knew the truth, he’d know now I’m nothing but darkness.

“So I went over all the possible things to keep me away from you,” he goes on, breathing heavily. “I tried to stay away, but one f*cking thing after another brought me to you. Then you start pushing me away, doing the same shit I’ve been doing, searching for a reason we can’t be together because you know how much it hurts when we’re forced apart. Stop. Just f*cking stop. I have. Stop looking for a reason to push me away and give me a damn chance.”

My breaths are heavy in my chest, and my heart hurts a little. He deserves to know the truth… Deserves to know what he’s asking for. But telling him seems impossible.

He steps forward, but this time I hold still as he comes closer and closer until he’s pushing me against the wall. He cages me in until his scent and presence consumes me and my overactive mind. Tilting my head up, I start to say something but he spins me around, forcing me to face the wall. My hands hit the sheetrock, bracing myself at the angle.

A small, surprised breath escapes me when he reaches around and jerks the button of my shorts open, and his lips find their way to my neck.

“All the games stop tonight,” he says against my skin, letting the heat of his breath lick across my skin, sending my nerves into a frenzy. “You taught me how to f*ck, Mika,” he continues, kissing a spot just under my ear as his hands work my shorts down my hips. “Now let me show you how to do it better.”

Just as my shorts fall to the floor, he turns me back around, and his lips come down on mine as he roughly tugs me closer by my ass. When I’m forced to grind against him, an impatient whimper leaves my lips. But he swallows the sound, devouring me as his tongue thrusts into my mouth, reminding me what it’s like to feel something. Love something. Crave something.

Stepping out of my shorts, I lean into him more, threading my fingers through his hair as I get as close as physically possible, forgetting all the boundary rules. Forgetting all my rules in general.

Chase lifts me up from the ground, and my legs wrap around his waist as he carries me away from the stairs. The rain grows louder, but I barely even notice it, because I’m too busy trying to keep from ripping Chase’s clothes off.

Before coming back, it’d been so long since I actually had any contact like this, so every single touch is more intimate. Every graze of his fingers on my skin is like fire igniting within a touch, burning through the layers of ice I’ve had surrounding me for years. Layers I needed in order to be strong.

He nips at my lips, smirking when he pulls back, but I’m still clinging to him, desperate for more. As he lowers me to the ground, I look around at the sunroom we’re in as the rain continues to pummel the house. The rain windows are closed, keeping the rain from breeching our sanctuary.

When I turn back to look at him, he peels his shirt over his head. My eyes drop to the ink and long lines of muscle that remind me he’s not a boy anymore. That V at his hips disappears behind his jeans, taunting me with a part of his body I got somewhat reacquainted with a few days ago.

Even that part of his body has matured.

The loveseat and dining table in here aren’t surfaces I want to be on, but when he grabs a blanket and spreads it out on the floor, I realize where he’s going with this. Nervously, I bite down on my bottom lip as he walks toward me. My nerves disappear when his lips find mine again, hungry and bruising, as though he’s as desperate as I am.

When he lifts me up, my legs go back around his waist, and he slowly lowers me to the floor. My back hits the ground gently as he tears his lips away from mine, and starts pushing my shirt up while kissing down my neck.

His lips and hands are so distracting that I forget all about why my shirt can’t come off until I hear his sharp intake of air as his body freezes against mine. My eyes dart open, but it’s too late to cover them up. My shirt is gone, Chase is sitting up between my legs, staring in horror at my abdomen that is marred and hideous, marked by dozens and dozens of scars.

Tears spring to my eyes, and I panic, trying to grab for my shirt, but he catches my arms and pins me beneath him as his jaw tics and he stares into my eyes.

“The f*cking hell happened, Mika?” he growls. “Who f*cking did this?”

The heat of my tears singes against my face, and his look softens even though I can tell he’s still furious.

“Please don’t look at it,” I whisper hoarsely.

His eyes grow colder, and he leans down closer, putting his body almost touching mine as he keeps my hands pinned above my head.