Page 67 of Heavy

Except I don’t want that,fuck, I want to see her. Watch her eyes roll back, see the tears I bring to them, and imagine the stars she’s seeing when she comes so hard she has to beg for me to stop.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice strains under my grip.

I shake my head, not wanting her apologies. She’s done nothing wrong, and if I knew how to express to her how badly I wish her touch was different, I would.

The urge to kiss her is gut wrenching. But I know the moment I’ve got my tongue down her throat, she will forget herself and touch me. It may not be right away, but at any point she will lose the restraint she has not to wrap her arms around me. Those soft fingers of hers will touch me and I will then lose composure.

I don’t know what I’ll do, and the last thing I want is to hurt her. It’s impossible to restrain her in this shower.

I’m making excuses, because I could pick her up right now and take her to the bed, grab my belt, and cuff her.

Except I don’t want to do that, because I want her to break and force me to feel.

Her touch is no different. I don’t want that.

I do.

“Fuck!”

I take a step back and slam my fist into the wall beside her, causing her to jump. Before she can stop me, I’m turning my back to her and storming out of the shower.

“Ronan, wait!”

Grabbing the only towel, I wrap it around my waist and leave the bathroom. I hear her screaming after me, but I abandon her, slamming the door behind me. There aren’t many places I can go, but as I grab hold of my sweats, boxers, and the shirt that I’d laid out on the bed, I make my way to the garage.

She won’t run out after me naked, and that gives me enough time to slide my pants and shirt on. Although I’m still soaking wet, I don’t care. I need to get away from her.

For her safety.

For mine.

Violence has been my peace, and I’ll protect Cal from it, hoping that maybe—just maybe—she could be the catalyst to replace it in the future.

I drove through the night without a helmet, without even my damn shoes. I’m confident enough in my ability that I wasn’t concerned about crashing, and only after a few minutes of fresh air, I was back in a headspace that was safe.

I’d left my phone, literally everything, back at the cabin. The only thing I didn’t leave were my fucking feelings for that girl. Damn her for peeling back my skin and getting under it.

I’ve met an innocent thing like her before. Blonde hair, with bright eyes that screamed of trust and safety.

Yet when I look at her, it’s all brand new. Her hair isn’t blonde, it’s the color of the sun that I had sometimes forgot about sitting in prison. Those eyes of hers aren’t just green, they are the grass I would roll around through in the youth I wish lasted longer than ten years. That fucking smile isn’t the innocence it portrays it to be. It’s filthy, and I want it to bemine.

I want all of her to be mine. My dirty little slut that I drown in cum and then bathe, just to fill her further. I’ve only ever taken care of myself, but I want to change that. I’ve seen just what doing the smallest thing for her does tome. I want to be more than just a shell of trauma and break free from the vice-like grip my past holds over me.

I’m just fighting this demon that tells me if I hurt her in the wrong way, I’d become the one thing I’ve run away from for so long. Even if she screams for punishment and aches for the pain, she doesn’t understand the extent of how I can be.

I’m afraid of hurting her beyond forgiveness. I know what it feels like to be unable to forgive, and I can’t imagine her aiming that at me.

I’m such a conundrum.

I don’t deserve her, and I know it all too well. Yet here I am, searching for a way to make her mine. I’m supposed to be leaving, not figuring out how to tell my brother I’m likely going to make his stepdaughter mine.

I can’t, not because it’s forbidden, but if I can’t even let her touch me, what sort of life is that for her? Me screaming at her any time she lays a finger on me, what kind of fucked up shit is that?

I lean forward on my bike that’s been at a stop for who knows how long. I’m parked in front of some river a distance away from the cabin. Away from her.

Why couldn’t that bastard have been an hour later than he said he’d be, and allow the pills to have taken the life I didn’t want? I’d have never known betrayal. What the inside of a prison cell looked like. What true pain was… and I’d have never met Cal.

Could have seen that ‘God’ my mom always talked about.