Page 64 of From Rome, With Hate

Damn spandex barrier.

“Why don’t you show me?” he asks. “I know you miss it.”

“I don’t miss anything.”

“Lies,” he hisses like the snake he is. “All lies, all the time.”

“You’re such a hypocrite. I’ve seen you lurking in corners, eyeing me across the room, as if I don’t see how badly you want to fuck me. As if I can’t read the thoughts running through that sick mind of yours. Like I’m an itch you can’t scratch. Like your cock is begging to sink inside me. Watching me in the shadows like I can’t see you. You’re not fooling anyone, Rome.”

He drags his fingers across my slit, over the spandex of my shorts. My wetness seeps through the fabric, coating his fingers. He lifts them and drags them across my lip, forcing me to taste myself.

“Neither are you,” he whispers. “I wonder if your mouth has been begging to suck on my cock as much as your sweet cunt.”

I’m ready to collapse against him and give in. Rip the Band-Aid, so to speak. Maybe all it’ll take is one good fuck to get him out of my system. Maybe it will finally cut all this tension we’ve been feeling over the past week and a half.

I drop one hand from the gun and reach behind me to rub my palm down the length of his cock. He groans, huffing a heated breath into my ear, his mouth curling against my skin.

Fuck, I want him so badly. I don’t even care that he’s smugly grinning against me, knowing he’s right.

Turning my head, I face him over my left shoulder. Our mouths are dangerously close. I want to press my lips to his and drink him in. I want to remember what it feels like to kiss Rome Montgomery. I used to kiss him and be convinced I was drifting away from Earth. The only time I was forced to return was when he would tear his mouth from mine. Kissing Rome is, in many ways, more intimate than sex. At least for us, it always has been.

“Beg me for it,” he grinds out, riding against my hand.

“Rome.” His name falls from my lips on a barely-there whisper. “Please.” I tip my chin, reaching to press my mouth to his.

I’m breathing in, ready to cave when he blurts out, “Tell me therealreason you host those charity events.”

The earth is ripped from under my feet. My gazes meets his.

I swallow around the lump in my throat and close my eyes before turning away. His hand returns to my side, slinking around my ribs while he uses the other to grip the end of my ponytail. He wraps my hair tightly around his fist before yanking me back. I cry out, my heart jumping and my pussy clenching. My eyes snap open, and I’m suddenly staring at the sky. Heat pools in my stomach.

“I told you already.” My lips part as I’m left gasping. The air is charged with want, need, and scars from old wounds. Tears sting the corners of my eyes as I look at the cloudless sky. It’s as if Rome has suddenly ripped me open to examine all my scars and count them one by one. He’s taking advantage of my vulnerability, calling my bluff.

He’s always calling my bluff.

My spine tingles as his velvety voice hits my ear once more. “Only truths, Lark. It’s just you and me out here.”

“They make me feel closer to my mother,” I confess, my bottom lip trembling.

“That’s one.” He drags his nose along the curve of my neck, breathing me in.

“One what?”

“One reason. There’s another.”

The tears lining my eyes swell, turning the sky blurry. Rome’s hand stops over my stomach and he spreads his fingers wide. He may as well be cutting me open. The pain is visceral and alive. A reminder of everything I’ve lost. Everythingwe’velost.

“Don’t make me say it, Rome.” I can’t do this. Not now. Not with his hands on me, refusing to allow me to break free from the chains he has shackled around my heart.

“Say. It,” he orders against my skin.

My hands are shaking, rattling the gun still in my hands. I want to let go but I can’t. I’m staring at the sky, willing this feeling to go away. Love. Hate. All of it.

“Say it, Lark.”

I can’t breathe. Not until his lips meet the delicate skin between my neck and my shoulder. Rome inflicts pain, then licks the wounds after.

I’m shivering. I can’t stop.