Page 16 of Nevermore (A Cruel Love #1)

FOURTEEN

REIGN

What the actual fuck is happening?

When Santiago’s lips slammed against mine, I was completely caught off-guard. I never thought this would happen. I’ve only known him for a few weeks, I’m pretty sure he hates me, and I’m straight. Sure, I’ve never actually had a girlfriend before but lots of straight guys haven’t.

I can’t deny the way my body scorched with heat when he undressed in front of me.

I’ve never looked at a guy and just… wanted .

But like everything else he does, Santiago is pure perfection.

Cut, defined, and shaped out of marble. An almost ethereal beauty that steals your breath and your common sense.

Maybe that’s why I’m kissing him back.

It could be why my legs are tightening around his waist as he grinds against me.

I meet his tongue stroke for stroke, even though it’s mostly awkward fumbling on my part.

But the solid hand pinching my chin grounds me to him.

It gives me the confidence to start nipping at his bottom lip, eliciting a deep groan which has my cock hardening right along with his.

I’m caught in the euphoria of his attention, in the daze of his passion, and I can’t escape.

No matter how much I know I should.

I’m lost in him but I need to find my way out. Santiago hates me, he’s been nothing but cruel and apathetic?—

And he’s my stepbrother. That has to count for something. This is wrong on so many levels I can’t even describe.

It takes every ounce of strength I possess to push him off me. The force of it sends him flailing back into the water, drowning him for a second before he resurfaces.

And when he does, he’s pissed.

His face is red with rage, a thick prominent vein on his neck thrumming in anger. Those dark eyes somehow become even darker and fill with a sort of intensity that overwhelms me.

“Santiago…” I begin, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. “Why did you?—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

I should have been prepared for the venom in his voice but it still sends my head rearing back.

I raise my hands in the air, slowly approaching him, because he looks like he’s on the verge of some kind of breakdown.

His hand is dragging through his wet hair, tugging at the roots, and there’s some kind of animalistic snarl to his lips.

“Hey,” I try again, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder when I reach him. “It’s okay.”

I don’t know why I’m trying to placate or comfort him despite everything he’s done to me. I guess sue me for being a good person. But my kindness isn’t rewarded with understanding and compassion from his end.

Instead, I get a fist to the face for all my troubles.

“What the fuck!” I shout, holding my nose, the feel of blood trickling through my fingers. “Why did you do that?”

He mumbles something under his breath, his eyes frantic and chaotic as he swims to the edge of the pool like his life depends on it. I’m left treading water as I watch him snatch his clothes from the floor and march through the wooden doors. My jaw drops when I realize what’s happening.

He’s fucking leaving me here.

I race out of the pool, barely stopping to collect my own clothes, and rush towards the exit. I hurry my way through the school as best as I can, but when I make it to the parking lot, he’s gone.