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The silence twisted between us, pulling me in a hundred different directions.
He looked at me with a disappointment in his eyes, his lips caught between his teeth and his pulse hammering in the hollow of his throat. My heart raged at me. Yelling, and screaming, and hollering for me to fix this. No way in hell was I going to listen to a single thing it had to say right now.
The tension and frustration stretching between us pulled even harder than the silence, yanking me right back into his lap before I knew what the hell I was doing. But he didn’t stop me. If anything, he only aggravated the situation further, curling his hands around my face and pushing my mouth into his. His fingers held the back of my head, held my face to his, as his mouth fully worked mine over, not leaving a single piece of me untouched.
It was a last kiss, kind of kiss. Agoodbye, kind of kiss. Athis-won’t-happen-againkind of kiss. I refused to acknowledge that I kind of wanted to cry.
I drew my attention back to his mouth instead.
His lips were bruising—rough and punishing, and angry. He bit down on my bottom lip, invading my mouth with his tongue and his anger.
My throat constricted, and I squeezed my eyes shut, wrapping my hands around his arms and digging my fingers into his biceps.
But still, he kissed me into oblivion, oblivious, refusing to let go.
I tore into his shirt, ripping the two halves apart. His buttons made soft clinking noises as they hit the floor of his truck, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered wanting to hear that sound someday. But not like this. Not clouded in hurt and anger and confusion.
Our mouths slid together, teeth grazing lips as I tried to let these thoughts go. For the moment, or for however long this last kiss of ours would last until it ended. It twisted my emotions up further, knowing I would never feel this again.
My hands coasted down his abs, writing every line to memory, along with the taste and feel of his mouth, his fingers pressing into me, sliding up my thighs and around to my lower back, pulling me into him.
I could feel him beneath me, hard and straining against his jeans. A soft cry spilled from my mouth, but instead of deterring him it only pushed him further. His tongue penetrated deeper, his hands becoming impatient. They tightened in my shirt, and then pulled it over my head, breaking our kiss.
Our gazes collided, chests moving as quickly as our breaths that filled the space between us.
Where did we go from here?What happened now—
My thoughts came to an abrupt halt as his hand came up and slipped my bra strap down my shoulder, his finger continuing down my arm until he picked my hand up in his. His lips met the center of my palm in a soft kiss, his eyes still glued to mine. I swallowed. I could see his inner turmoil. His inner fight on whether or not to continue pushing things further. Confusion and hesitance mixed in with a handful of other painful things.
I didn’t know what I wanted from him, exactly, but I knew it wasn’t this. Thisfelt messy, and wrong, and selfish.Thisfelt ugly.
I slid off his lap and threw my shirt back on. “I can’t do this, Neil,” I said as I grabbed my backpack and opened the door. “This thing between us, whatever it is or isn’t” —I looked him in the eyes, already begging myself to take the words back before they spilled out of my mouth— “it’s over.”
I told myself I was doing us both a favor.
“I’m done, Neil. I’m just… I’m done.” But the truth was, I did it because I was afraid. Because I wasterrified—of the things he made me feel, of the things he made me want that I knew he wouldn’t give me. Things I knew would end up in a dumpster fire anyway.
Because Neil was too good for me.
And I was a coward.
Chapter 20
Purgatory
Self-fulfilling prophecy, anyone?
Neil and I had officially become messy—all thanks to me. I’d screwed everything up royally—like, on an epic level—and I didn’t think there was any coming back from it.
But I missed him. Already, I missed him.
And I hated myself for it. For pushing him away, for being weak and letting my fears take over, for letting Linda inside my head and completely skewing my way of thinking. For letting the dark recesses of my mind filter out and spill into my heart. (For letting Neil in there in the first place.)
Because yeah, I was admitting it.
It fuckinghurt.
I shoved my face into my pillow and screamed. At myself. And my stupidity. And that aching, hollow pit in my stomach. I wanted to beat these feelings into a pulp and bury them six feet underground. But apparently, these things didn’t work like that.