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His hand left hers and moved to her waist, squeezed her hip as he shifted closer. “It’s the adrenaline,” he said, his breath shaking.
She turned her face toward his so their cheeks kissed one another. Her body tried to follow the movement but got caught against his. He gripped her hip firmly, then squeezed her flesh before moving his hand down until it rested on the curve of her rear, laying over her skirt. She had on one of her mini pleated skirts that hit her upper thigh and a stretchable tee, her typical outfit of choice. From what she could feel, though, it didn’t seem as if she still wore her Converse Chuck boots.
Air skipped out of her lungs in both shock and confusion, in need and want. She didn’t understand how the tables had turned so quickly when just moments ago she’d been both repulsed and scared out of her mind.
Now, all she could think about was her body touching Elijah’s, her mouth meeting his. She lifted her hips so she could rotate, which only assisted in his hand cupping her ass firmly. Part of his hand rested on the bare skin of her thigh. A thrill went through her at the foreign touch.
With the free room above their heads, it allowed her to come over top him and blindly search for his mouth.
First, her free hand found a powerful jaw with bristles that were soft to the touch yet abrasive against her skin. A compelling combination. One that had her wondering how they’d feel against the bare skin of her breasts.
He kept one hand on her ass, digging his firm grip into her flesh, and the other tunneled into her thick hair at the back of her head.
Her fingers danced across his lips, ones she knew from memory were plump and shaped perfectly on a handsome face. They could deliver some mean insults. But those slurs were nowhere to be found at this moment. Instead, as she leaned forward, she heard him moan out, “Yes, please,” before her mouth found his.
She straddled him but didn’t lower her pelvis to his. Their lips met and became one in a heated delightful caress, moving over one another in a sensual movement she’d always craved but never experienced. There was nothing rushed in their kiss, and instead they moved as if they had all the time in the world to discover and learn. In a fucked-up way, she supposed they did. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere anytime soon.
He nipped at her lower lip as if he knew he didn’t have her full attention. She gasped, pulling back slightly to lick out at the offended piece of flesh. “That hurt,” she said.
“Liar,” he said, then pulled her back with the grip in her hair. Against her mouth, he paused. “I want to taste you, sweetheart. Open up.” With that, he crushed his lips to hers, then very deliberately opened his mouth and licked at the seam of hers until she allowed him entry. It was instinctual when it should have been anything but. He had made her teenage years a living hell. Had taunted her with ugly threats, started rumors that stung like a million yellow jackets all at once, and had been the sole cause for many of her fears until she escaped that small northeast town.
Their tongues danced against one another, then pulled back. He tasted of cloves and mint, an enticing combination that reminded her of her favorite tea and had her craving sample after sample. She could kiss him forever if he’d let her—if she would let herself enjoy such a thing.
But reality was often a bitch and intruded at the worst times.
He groaned as she tangled her tongue with his and sucked. His hands clamped down hard enough that her knees spread, and she met his pelvis with her own.
She gasped and came up for air as shock shot through her system. This felt too good. Too much. Too soon.
“Don’t stop,” he begged, his voice thick with lust.
She’d love to see his eyes now, to see him look at her with something other than disgust for once. Because she was about to put them both firmly on the ground and back in reality.
Sadness rushed in swiftly, with memories of them playing in his yard, watching movies under the moonlight with a projector. Sharing a bowl of popcorn.
He pressed at her head again and the hand at her ass squeezed. She could tell he palmed her over her cheeky underwear now, no cloth from her skirt between them. Tingles ran up her spine as she gasped.
“Please,” he said, and she could tell he strained up toward her.
His cruel face from high school flashed through her mind, his mouth curled up in a sneer.
She placed a chaste kiss on his plump lips, then pulled back. “Violet,” she whispered, and he froze as if ice had suddenly been injected into his veins.
“My name is Violet Levine.”
One second, two of ugly silence then, “Get the fuck off me.”
Chapter Four
“Let me out of here!” Elijah thrashed and punched the walls, kicked out with his feet, making a bunch of noise, and screamed so loud, his voice grew hoarse.
He’d been letting out all his rage and frustration, all his fear and concerns, for the past however minutes since Violet had quickly and silently slid off him. He tried his best to not hit her in his ministrations because while he hated her with every bit of his being, he wasn’t a complete asshole who’d ever take his anger out on a woman.
“Let me out! Let me out! Get me the fuck out of here!” The last was a bellow that he felt tore out of his soul. His body bowed upward with the force he let loose.
Spent, tired, and sore, he lay his head and shoulders back down and tried to catch his breath. His chest ached with tightness.
Violet Levine. That was a name he hadn’t heard, a face he hadn’t seen in years. Not since she walked out of their graduation before the ceremony had even finished. He remembered watching her continue walking, unzipping her gown and letting it fall to the shiny green turf under the late afternoon sun. Next came her cap, which she tossed away with a flourish.
