Page 57

“Do it, Henley.”
I rake my nails down the length of his back, from his shoulder blades to his ass and scream his name, the sound of it getting lost in his mouth as he lowers it over mine. His tongue and teeth nipping and swirling against me. Inside me.
Every part of me invaded.
Every inch of me claimed.
I come hard. Shoulders pressed against the mattress, the slick walls of my pussy gripping and flexing around the stiff, swollen length of his cock. He says something, the sound of it getting lost in my mouth, and he starts to jerk and spasm inside me, filling me with his release.
I stare up at him, eyes wide, hands pressed against the weeping red welts I scored into his back, breath heaving against my chest, fast and harsh. As soon as his eyes refocus they skate past mine, finding another place to land.
“What was that?” I say softly. When he doesn’t answer me, I slip my hand around to the front to push against his chest. Against the Claddagh inked across his pecs, the point of its heart aimed toward his own.
My heart.
He looks down at my hand, where it is, and visibly stiffens. I push harder, trying to get him to look at me. “Conner. What just—”
He leans into my hands and grins, but it looks wrong. I’ve been around him enough now to know when he’s pretending. “That was the fuck of the century, Daisy.” He skims his lips against my cheekbone before levering himself up and away from me completely. I sit up and watch him walk naked to the fridge to pull it open. The welts I left on his back are raised and red, blood pebbling, smeared against his skin in spots where I dug into him. Hurt him.
Because he asked me to.
I think about the library. The way he encouraged me to bite him. Seemed to need it. Want it. Last night when I pulled his hair. The fact that he practically begged me to, even though his scalp was still tender from slamming his head into the hood of the car he was working on only minutes before.
That’s when it hits me.
He wants me to.
He wants me to hurt him.
“I won’t do that again.” I sound a lot more convicted than I feel. The truth is, I would. I’d do anything he asked me to do. Not because he asked but because I’d want to. I like the out of control, careening-around-a-blind-corner-at-break-neck-speed feeling that being with him gives me. I like it so much that I’m starting to need it. Crave it like a drug.
“Won’t do what?” He bends slightly, rooting around for something. I expect him to pull out one of the beers I brought, but he doesn’t. He pulls out a bottle of water. Turning around, he faces me, hips leaned against the counter. Cock half-hard and still glistening from being inside me. “Fuck me or hurt me?” His tone is light. Casual. Not my Conner. Not anymore.
I feel the blood rush away from my face so fast it makes me glad I’m not standing. If I were, I’d probably lose my knees and fall on my face. “They’re the same thing, aren’t they?” I’m not sure why I say it. The only thing I’m sure of is that it’s true.
He cracks the cap on the water and takes a deep drink before lowering it from his mouth. “Yes, they are,” he says, tightening the lid on the bottle before tossing it to me. It lands in the bed next to me. I don’t even reach for it. “And yes, you will.” He pushes his hips away from the counter to stand up straight. “You’ll keep fucking me because you can’t stop.” He grins at me again and it’s the same grin as before. The one I watched him give countless girls when we were younger. Dozens of women since I’ve been back. It’s a grin that says he knows exactly what we think when we look at him. What we see. What we want. Feeling the cold weight of it aimed at me is like a knife in my gut and I press my hands to my stomach to keep them from spilling out. “Because when it comes to my cock, you’re a goddamned junkie—” He looks down at himself and laughs. “—and I’ll keep letting you hurt me because I’m in love with you, Henley.” He lifts his head and shows me his palms like his hands are full of something I’ll never be able to see. “Fuck, I’ll even beg you to do it because I’ve been so goddamned desperately in love with you, for so fucking long, that I can’t remember what it feels like not to love you and I’ll do anything—anything—you want me to, because I learned my lesson. I said no to you once and you sent me away. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
I just want to be with you, Henley. Why won’t you just let me be with you?
Before I can even fully comprehend what he just said to me—that he loves me, that’s he’s in love with me and has been for years—he turns away from me and disappears into the bathroom, followed by the distinct sound of the door being locked. A few seconds later I hear the shower turn on.
When I look down at my hands, they’re streaked with Conner’s blood.