Page 37

Declan
Did I say bad?
What I meant is catastrophic.
Cataclysmic.
A goddamned disaster of near epic proportions.
And even though I know it, even though I know that this whole thing is so far beyond fucked that I can’t even see it, I keep holding her.
I can’t let her go.
I tell myself it’s because she just came all over me, in the front seat of my mom’s minivan and I owe her that much, at least. I owe her a few minutes to get herself together because even though she’s the one who got off, as usual, I’m still the one who took.
I’m not pulling down Con’s numbers but I’ve fucked around plenty. Out of lust. Out of boredom. That fucked up need to control everything that’s rooted deep inside me.
This was different.
It was more.
It was too much.
Because even though I want to fuck her in the worse possible way, I’m not thinking about all the morally questionable things I can talk her into now that she’s warmed-up and willing to do just about anything I say, as long as I make her come again.
I’m thinking about the day of her mother’s funeral. The way she let me hold her. Her warm breath on my neck. Her cold fingers clutching the front of my shirt. Her hot tears seeping through the fabric of it. She made herself vulnerable.
Allowed herself to fall apart in front of me.
Shared something with me she didn’t mean to.
Gave me something I wasn’t meant to have.
Just like now.
And now, just like then, I am wholly unworthy of it. I took something from her I can’t give back and that makes me an asshole.
What makes me a giant, festering asshole is that I’m going to do it again. I know I am.
As soon as she’ll let me.
As often as I can.
She shifts against me and my still-stiff cock starts to throb so goddamned hard I can feel my pulse in my balls.
She does it again. Sinks lower, shifting her hips against mine. If it were anyone else, I’d think she’s doing it on purpose. That she’s fucking with me. Teasing me.
But this is Tess.
She doesn’t have it in her.
Doesn’t know how.
Breathe, asshole.
Fucking.
Breathe.