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Wes stills for a moment. Then, he wraps his arms around my body so tight that I can hardly breathe. He devours my mouth, taking everything I have to give as he fills me to my limit.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I coil my right leg around his waist for support as he grinds against my over-sensitized flesh. I was wrong before. This is as close as two people can get.
Wes isn’t showing me his brave face or his guarded face. He isn’t showing me his face at all.
He’s showing me his fear.
The moment I feel him swell and jerk inside of me, my body detonates, contracting around him suddenly and violently. I whimper into his mouth with every surge of pleasure and swallow his quiet moans of pain.
He doesn’t pull out, doesn’t break our connection. He holds me and kisses me until he’s making love to me again, and I’m hit with a sickening sense of déjà vu.
This is exactly how he made love to me yesterday up in my tree house—passionately, endlessly—as if it were our last night on earth.
I didn’t think this was a goodbye kiss, but maybe I was wrong.
Because the last time Wes tried to tell me goodbye, it felt exactly like this.
Wes
It’s dark as night up in the tree house, but I don’t need light to see Rain. She fucking glows. The blunt edge of her black hair, the straight line of her nose, the curves of her body, and the overlap of her arms across her chest. I can see every swoop and bend of her in perfect detail.
I’m fucking obsessed.
Which is why I need to go right the fuck now.
I drape Rain’s clothes over her naked, napping body, tuck her hoodie under her head, and place my pocketknife in her tiny fist. She grips it and pulls it close as I kiss her on the forehead one last time. I let my lips linger, inhaling the fading scent of vanilla on her skin just to torture myself. Then, I climb out of the tree house with a noose of emotion wrapped around my neck.
Leave before you get left has never fucking hurt like this.
I have to get out of here before I do something stupid, like change my mind. I won’t be able to breathe again until this place is a blip in my rearview—along with the girl who almost got me. Fool me once, shame on you. Do that shit thirteen more times, and guess what. I’m motherfucking foolproof.
I throw my clothes back on, check to make sure I still have the key to the Ninja in my pocket, and look around for the backpack.
Goddamn it.
I stomp out of the bookstore and try to focus on how disgusting this place is instead of the growing black hole in my chest. The floor is covered in trash and dust and cracked tiles with weeds growing in between them. The walls are covered with graffiti and shittily drawn dicks. And I can hear fucking frogs croaking somewhere in the atrium.
Frogs.
I turn left at the petri dish of a fountain and head straight to the tuxedo shop.
Rain’s backpack is sitting on the counter, right where she left it, so I unzip it and dig around for what I need. I’m only going to take my antibiotics, a few bandages, maybe a protein bar or two, and a bottle of water. I can find the rest when I get back to town. I pocket the pills and shove a beige brick of food into my mouth, not even bothering to taste it as I hunt for the water bottles. When I find them, they’re both empty.
Whatever. I’ll just find a house with a garden hose on my—
The sound of moaning and coughing behind the counter scatters my thoughts.
Don’t look. He’s not your problem. This is the same guy who pulled a rifle on you in the hardware store, remember? Fuck him.
I look anyway.
Fuck me.
Quint’s dark eyes are wide open, and his chest is heaving like he just ran a marathon. He tries to sit up, winces, and falls back to the ground as his hand flies up to touch his neck.
“No!” I leap over the counter and grab his wrist before he does any damage.
His brother is sitting next to him, passed out cold with his head against the checkout stand cabinets.
