Page 22 of Nevermore (A Cruel Love #1)

TWENTY

SANTIAGO

I can’t believe I’m doing this shit.

As I lay on my back, staring at the damn stars, I curse Reign for talking me into this. Turns out, he isn’t horrible company and after our outing to the land rig, we’ve been… hanging out.

I put it that way because that’s what it is.

Just us—chilling—doing absolutely nothing in each other’s presence.

We’ve visited his favorite spot again and driven around the Crescent Hill backroads.

We haven’t had as deep of a conversation like we did at the land rig and I’m partly thankful for that.

It’s given a sort of easiness to our interactions that I’ve never had before.

Everyone—even my friends—always expect something from me.

Whether it’s Hudson wanting to entertain me with fun facts I don’t give a shit about, or Kingston wanting to practice for our upcoming college lacrosse season, I always have to do shit I don’t want to do.

Sometimes I just want to chill. That’s it.

Do absolutely nothing and just sit in silence, and it’s wild to me that Reign has given me that.

Well, for the most part.

“And what’s that one?”

I roll my eyes. This is the fourth constellation he’s asked me to name. For some reason, my advanced knowledge of astronomy fascinates him. “That’s Ursa Major.”

“In English please.”

“The Big Dipper,” I say. Turning to him, I raise a brow. “Shouldn’t you know that?”

He laughs a full-belly laugh and shakes his head. “And where exactly would I have learned that? Flippin’ burgers at the joint?”

I snort although I do flush at the obvious. “Right.”

“That one next,” he says.

“Which one?”

“That one.”

I’m about to ask again until he takes my wrist in his hand.

I shouldn’t shudder at such an innocent touch, but I do.

It wracks through my entire body, just that one tiny point of contact.

My breath hitches as he leans over me to point my arm in the right direction.

He’s more tan than he was at the beginning of the summer and it makes his freckles on the bridge of his nose stand out.

As he reaches over me, his lips innocently hover over my cheek, and his breath smells like cotton candy from the Freezer he had.

“That one,” he says, unaware of what his proximity is doing to me. “What’s that one?”

Honestly, I can’t even focus on anything other than his handsome face.

Not classically handsome like some of the guys I went to school with.

He’s still a poor rugged boy with messy blond hair and slightly overgrown brows.

But there’s something exceedingly charming about it that I’ve only recently started to admire.

He catches my stare and furrows his brows. “Santi, what are you—” He cuts himself off, his eyes widening as he realizes what he’s said. “Shit, sorry. You don’t like that. I didn’t mean it.”

No, I don’t like it. Not really. But coming out of Reign’s mouth, it sounds different. It doesn’t hold the same pain as it used to. Maybe it’s time that’s made it sting less—the reminder of what my mom called me—or maybe it’s just… Reign.

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, holding onto his arm when he tries to roll off me. “It’s fine. You can call me that.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You sure?”

I nod because I guess I am. Because it makes me feel fuzzy inside and I realize that’s what Reign does. He takes all the coldness and turns it into warmth. He takes the darkness and makes it light. He’s seen me at my cruelest and he’s taken it in stride.

Because he’s mine .

“R-Reign,” I breathe, a rare stutter leaving my lips as I lean up, trying to close the distance between us. “Can I kiss you?”

I can’t believe I’m even asking. I’m not someone who asks for what they want, I take , but this is Reign. Once again, there’s something about him that makes me act like a damn fool. Like everyone else can fuck off as long as he’s okay and happy.

His eyes dart down to my lips and he gulps. Ever so slowly, he nods. I waste no time closing the distance between us and?—

Fuck me .

Our first kiss was driven by a lust I didn’t understand.

It was hot but clumsy. Unwanted and violent.

This is so different. It’s… sweet. Tender.

The way his slightly chapped lips brush against mine makes me of all people whimper.

He’s like a doe—skittish—and not giving in to what he wants.

I can feel his hesitation, not because he doesn’t want this, but because he has no idea what to do.

But, for the first time in my life, I want to take care of someone.

I want to take care of Reign.

I flip us so I’m hovering over him. Digging my hands into his unruly hair, I tilt his head in the exact position I want.

I bite down on his bottom lip, soothing the sting with my tongue, and devour his mouth when he gasps for me.

Teasing him, my tongue flicks against his, and it takes a second for him to work up the courage to lean into what I’m giving him.

“S-Santi…” he murmurs as he pulls back a bit. “What?—”

“Don’t,” I snap gently, brushing my knuckles down his cheek. “Don’t ask because I don’t know.”

Understanding my words, he nods. He surprises me as he lifts his head and takes my mouth on his own.

He’s moaning now, writhing underneath me, and the evidence of his attraction is obvious against my thigh.

I grind down on him, giving him the kind of pleasure he’s wordlessly begging for.

His hands snap up to hold my shoulders as his nails dig through the fabric and into my skin.

I prop myself up and whip off my shirt because I want his marks on me.

I take his hands and place them on my back, encouraging him to rake his nails down my skin.

Draw blood. Make it hurt. Remind me of you.

Make this real .

“You feel so good,” he mumbles sweetly, his hips coming up to meet each one of my thrusts. “Santi, I’m going to?—”

“Gonna come for me, querido ?” I ask, the endearment slipping past my lips without any warning. I grunt, grinding harder, giving him everything I have just as I drop my face into the crook of his neck. “ Dame lo, querido. ”

“Not the Spanish,” he chuckles through a broken moan. “So close, Santi. Just a little—fuck—a little longer and… Fuck!”

Even through my pants, I can feel the wetness spreading down his thigh. He sighs dreamily as he collapses underneath me, absolutely breathless. “I-I’m sorry. That was—um—quick.”

“It was,” I acknowledge because there’s no point lying. I rub my hand up and down his wet crotch and smirk. “Just means we’re going to have to practice.”

“Practice?” His blurry eyes widen as he tries to sit up. “So we’re…”

I force him back down where he’s comfortable and nod. “Yes. We’re…”

Neither of us know how to finish that sentence, but we don’t have to. We’re going to… do what we do. That’s it. We don’t need to reason or explain it. We don’t need to state the obvious that this isn’t something stepbrothers should do, or that we don’t know each other well enough to start anything.

He nods and opens his arms out to me. I know I could use him until I come, but I find that I don’t need it. I simply stare at him. In the moonlight, he looks like some sort of messy angel sent from Heaven to taunt and tempt me.

But it’s okay.

I let my head rest on his chest, my ear right above his rapidly beating heart, and I smile.

Because, eventually, all angels fall from grace.