Page 81 of Loverboy

Then his shoulders finally slumped, and he gave a defeated nod, turning to grab the doorknob and taking a deep breath. He left, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

Jasper tugged on my hand, spinning me around and crushing me against his chest.

“He’s always waiting,” he said bitterly. “He thinks if he waits around long enough, you’ll change your mind.”

“Is that what you think, too?” I eyed him.

About us.

“No.”

He lifted my hand, unwrapping the bandage and letting it fall to the floor between us. The cut from the shard of glass was angry and red, the skin healing poorly without stitches. It would turn into another scar, like the one before it.

“You’ve always been mine.”

He placed an open-mouthed kiss on the wound, his tongue dragging over the split skin agonizingly slow and making me whimper.

“Tell me again,” I rasped.

“Tell you what?” He pretended not to know.

“Fuck you.”

“You’re mine.”

My insides turned to liquid heat.

He moved quickly, grabbing two handfuls of my ass and lifting me with ease. I gasped, hooking my legs around his waist and scrambling to grab fistfuls of his shirt, afraid he might drop me.

He carried me to my bedroom, kicked the door shut behind us, and moved to the bed. I stared up at him as he lay me down, my heart threatening to bruise my ribs from its violent pounding.

“Your turn,” he murmured.

“My turn for what?” I asked breathlessly.

“Tell me.”

His hands dipped under my sweater, pushing it up and exposing my stomach to the cool air in the room. He lowered his head, kissing from my navel all the way up to the bottom of my sternum.

“I’m yours,” I whispered.

“Close.”

He wanted me to stake my claim, too.

“You’re mine,” I corrected myself.

He moved higher, until we were face-to-face. He braced his hands on either side of my head, the mattress dipping under his weight. I couldn’t help the way my bottom lip trembled, my eyes stinging with emotion. I was euphoric. Terrified. Relieved.

He kissed me then. It was soft, tender.

I wanted it harder.

I sucked his bottom lip between my teeth and bit down, urging him to handle me with the same roughness he had just a few nights ago. He squeezed my jaw hard with one hand, disapproval rumbling low in his chest.

“I want to be soft with you,” he said, thumb brushing my bottom lip.

“I don’t like that,” I admitted.