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“No. We aren’t the modern-day Romeo and Juliet,” she says, eyes trained on the expensive rug on the floor. Thing’s as cold and uniform as the rest of the house. And then, just to drive the knife a little further, “I don’t want to be.”
I grit my teeth so hard I fear they may crack. Iwantto tell her I know she’s lying. We both know it, but I also know she’s right. I don’t want something serious, and we’re both already in well over our heads by now.
Even if I could look past the shit with Parker and Melissa. Her mother. Her unwillingness to get out from under her mother’s thumb, there’s still that nagging voice in the back of my head telling me she’s too fucking good for me.
She’s too sweet. Too innocent. Too fucking perfect. I’d break her. Ruin her until I’m the only one she’d see because that’s what guys like me do to girls like her.
We claim them. Keep them addicted to us so they can’t see what kind of monsters we really are.
I have to face the fact that I’ll lose her because she’s got responsibilities I’m not willing to accept as my own.
And that someday, someone else will.
I want to kill him, whoever he is. Beat him to the punch, before he can rip her away from me again.
When I don’t say anything, Hannah takes another drink of her beer, wincing when it hits the back of her tongue.
“This tastes awful. I don’t know why people drink it.”
“I knew you wouldn’t like it.”
She eyes me pointedly. “And you do?”
I shrug. “It’s a means to an end. That’s why anyone drinks it.”
“Well, you can have it,” she murmurs, leaning forward and placing it on the coffee table in front of me.
“I need to leave. Got to get up early. Been here long enough as it is.”
She rolls her eyes. “You act like the FBI is going to leap out from behind the bookcase. It’s just us.”
“Yeah, and your mother doesn’t like me.”
She snickers, a breathy sound that goes straight to my dick.
“She doesn’t like anyone. Especially not attractive men who stick up for her daughters.”
“I see. She doesn’t like men who her daughters have a little crush on.” I chuckle darkly as she leans back against the mass of throw pillows, her foot resting on the cushion between us.
Let me fucking tell you, I’ve never given a single shit about someone’s foot until I saw the red polish on hers.
Her eyes lock with mine, half-lidded and hazy. “Maybe I just wanted to piss her off.”
“That it?” Don’t ask me why. Maybe she spiked my beer or some shit, but I reach out, my fingers brushing over her calf. Goosebumps rise in their wake and Hannah’s eyes widen at my touch. “That why you’re still wearing my flannel?”
Her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip and my cock pulses at the motion.
Fuck me.
What the hell am I doing?
“It’s warm. This house gets cold,” she lies quietly when my hand travels higher on her skin, almost reaching her knee before I drop it back down to her foot. In a flash, I yank her upright and forward until her ass is resting on the middle cushion and her foot’s in my lap.
Fuck, this has already gone too far.
Her breath hitches when we come face to face, my hand on her knee hooked over mine and her fingers dancing across the skin on the back of my arm.
She feels so good. Soft and warm. My cock throbs with the need to bury myself inside her, forget all the shit that’s happened and make her mine. Even if only for a night.
