Page 151 of Before You Fell

This man who has wrecked me, carried me, sung my damage to stadiums, and slept on my shitty couch, is now asking me for the words as if they matter.

“I want you,” I say, my voice shaking enough to make me hate myself. “I just need you not to make me hate myself for it after.”

Phoenix goes still and his hand tightens at my waist. “You were never the mistake. I was a coward and I made you pay for it because wanting you scared the shit out of me.”

My breathing stalls in my chest and stays there.

He leans in, his mouth closer to mine but not taking it yet. “I’m not running from you tonight.”

He kisses me again. Slow. Deep. Like a promise that he means this time.

His hands slide down my sides, unhurried, as if he has decided tonight to take his time with me, whether I can handle it or not.

They stop at the hem of my shirt.

He pulls back to look at me.

I nod before he can ask.

“Words, Wills.”

Damn him for making me say it. Damn me for how my body clenches when he does.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I want this.”

“Good,” he says, his voice rough and filthy. “Because I am hanging on by a fucking thread.”

He pulls the shirt up over my head and drops it to the floor.

His eyes drop to my tits and they stay there.

“Christ.” The word comes out wrecked. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

His hands come up and cup me, thumbs dragging slowly over my nipples. The sensation shoots straight down my spine and lands between my thighs.

I gasp which causes him to smirk.

His mouth drops to the side of my neck, teeth dragging over my skin with enough pressure to make my pussy clench. He is not kissing me. He is leaving evidence. His thumbs keep rolling over my nipples and I hate how easily he plays with my body. As if every nerve belongs to him. As if my pussy did not learn a single goddamn lesson the last time he had me this desperate.

“Phoenix,” I say, already halfway to begging, which is exactly the sort of shit his ego doesn’t need.

“Yeah?” His mouth moves up my throat toward my jaw. “What do you need, Wills?”

Cocky fucker knows exactly what I need.

“Take me to my room,” I breathe.

He pulls back and looks at me. Dark eyes. Smirked mouth. His cock hard against his sweatpants, making no attempt to hide what I have done to him.

He kisses me again—dirty and deep—and walks me backward out of the kitchen, his hands locked around my waist and his mouth owning mine.

He steers me down the hallway as if we have always known how to do this. As if every fucked-up version of us was only killing time until we finally ended up here.

My back hits the wall. Phoenix doesn’t apologize. He uses it to his advantage.

His body crowds mine, hips pinning me to the plaster while his hard cock grinds between my thighs through his sweats. One slow drag. Before another. Filthy pressure exactly where my pussy is already aching for him.

A rough sound tears from his throat. “Fuck, Wills.”