Stain (Stain #1)(45)

His eyes are darker now, his breaths a little sharper, labored, and I blink fast and silently gasp at the straining bulge pressing into me. The thought of being disgusted or afraid doesn’t even cross my mind once. In fact, it’s all I can do to keep myself from leaning a little closer, desperate to feel just a little more of that impressive length. Heat boils my blood and warms my entire body, the evidence of my own desire blooming in my cheeks and panting breath.

“Not nearly,” he answers. With a sharp exhale that fans against my face, he abruptly releases me like I’ve repulsed him.

He swaggers to the edge of the container and drops down to his haunches before taking a seat, his long legs dangling over the edge.

With cooling passion, I stand there for a long while after going back and forth on whether I should follow him. But with everything in my body pulling me to him like a magnet, there’s really no other choice for me.

With as much ladylike grace as I can muster, I come to knees-first beside him, then settle down to a sitting position making sure to tuck my skirt around my thighs before following his lead in letting my legs dangle over the edge. “Why are you so angry? Did I make you angry?”

He shrugs. “I’m always angry. Can’t remember a day I haven’t felt like destroying something. Or someone. It’s always there, just beneath the surface. Sometimes I can control it. Other times…I don’t want to.” I take in his softly-worded confession and let it permeate my bones. Silently, I listen to him, both enjoying the gruffness of his voice and the idea of being someone he trusts enough to talk to. I feel so incredibly touched right now. More than words can even say.

We fall quiet for a beat before he looks over at me and continues. “Me and you? We’re not that different.” He sighs. “And it freaks me the f*ck out. I feel like I have to protect you. There’s something about you being f*cked with that pisses me off. Just like it does with my brother. He used to get picked on a lot. Especially by this one kid. As you’ve probably been able to tell, Noah isn’t very confrontational so he really wouldn’t do much about it. His approach is to ignore it and pray like hell it’ll go away eventually.” The hint of disdain in his voice is offset by his clear exasperation of his brother.

“So what happened with the kid? Did he end up leaving Noah alone?”

He lets out a dry, humorless chuckle. “I cornered the guy in the bathroom, smashed his face in a few times against the sinks, and because he liked to call Noah a ‘fudge packer,’ I thought it’d be nice if he knew what that actually felt like. So I rammed a plunger handle up his ass.” When he turns to look at me, it’s with a dark, menacing look that instantly chills my blood. “Do you want to know how I felt after I did that?”

“Tell me,” I answer quietly.

“Incredibly satisfied.” I don’t find any hint of regret on his face, and I don’t know why I’m not more unnerved by that. The unexpected caress of his hand curving around to the inside of my upper right thigh squeezes my fluttering heart to my throat. As I stare unblinkingly down at that all-too-masculine, tattooed hand gliding ever so gently over the beginning of my reddish pink scar tissue, my first instinct is to flinch and pull away. “Sort of like how I imagine you feel when you do this?” Everything in me is fighting to stand up and run. Run and hide. Run and cry. Run and cut.

“Aylee.” His voice grounds me. Snatches me from the atmosphere of my floating mind and tethers me to his unmovable force. “You’re shaking.”

I am. The furious tremble in my legs is embarrassing. “I’m sorry.”

“Look at me.” And my eyes drift up to his face. “You need to stop apologizing for shit that’s not your fault.”

Nodding, my eyes drift away. If I open my mouth now, I’m sure I’ll do one of two things: cry uncontrollably or spill my secrets. Neither scenario is allowed. I’m not nearly ready to push him away with all my baggage. The silence that falls between us vibrates with words I cannot say. And we stay like that for a few minutes.

“Look up.”

My body was created to follow his directives. I can’t help it. Looking up, I find a midnight sky speckled with glittering stars. There’s so many of them my eyes bounce around to take them all in. Without the interference of light pollution, they sparkle so brilliantly, stretching as far and wide as the eye could see. “It’s breathtaking.” I look at him. “How did you find this place?”

“Got my ways.” At his flippant reply, my eyes travel back to the sky. From my peripheral I see him recline backward as he raises his arms to pillow his head.

I sigh. “I wish I had our project package and a camera. This would’ve been a great image to capture.”

“It’s not like we can’t come back.”

“We?” I can’t help the dose of happiness. “So, you’re doing the project with me? I thought you said it’s a waste of time?”

He has his phone in front of him so he doesn’t immediately answer as he furiously types away. It’s illogical that I should become jealous of a phone and even more absurd for me to be jealous of whoever it is that has stolen his attention. Looking back up at the stars, it’s difficult finding any sort of beauty there when my thoughts are so preoccupied with such ugly feelings. Silently, I work myself into an unnecessary mess and only notice he’s come to his feet when I feel the weight of his hand on my shoulder. He removes that hand and holds it out for me to take. In one swift move, he pulls me to my feet.