Page 88 of Pretty Broken Wings

“Don’t touch me.”

Her words are cold, and the whiplash makes me question what’s going on. I just stand still so I don’t scare her.

Raven’s in my room.

Her hands are on me, and she’s shoving me back, away from the door. I let her, but my hands are shaking again. What is she doing?

My knees hit the back of my bed.

“Don’t. Touch me,” Raven hisses again. Then she’s on me, and I must be dreaming again because she has me pinned against the bed, and she’s kissing the hell out of me. My instinct is to grab the back of her head and pull her into me. To get more. To plunder her mouth and suck the soul out of her body. I find my hands moving up, and then Raven stiffens. Immediately, I drop them back down.

But the magic is broken. Raven pulls away from me, and I can hear her panting for breath. I want nothing more than to jump up and spin us around, pinning her against the bed so she can’t keep running from me. I want to grind into her and get some relief for my throbbing dick.

But Raven’s quick breaths sound an awful lot like fear, and that puts a stop to my crashing thoughts.

She’s still afraid of me. She’s still fucking afraid.

There’s the pound of footsteps past our door, and then Axel’s door slams.

Then, the puzzle pieces slowly fall together, and I know why Raven kissed me. She kissed me to get back at Axel. To make him angry.

She didn’t kiss me for me. She kissed me for him.

My chest feels tight.

“This means nothing.” Raven’s voice is tight.

The knife drives in further.

I try to find my voice, but I can still taste her on my lips.

“I’m going to stay here tonight, and you aren’t going to touch me. Do you understand?”

I can’t say anything around the hurt in my chest.

There’s a bolt of movement; something is ripped off my bed, and then I see the bathroom light flick on.

“If you try to come in here, I’ll kill you.”

Then, she slams the door.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

It’s a long fucking night curled up on Gage’s bathroom floor with only a comforter. After hours of restless tossing and picking at my uneven nails, I give up and search through the vanity drawers.

Who the fuck doesn’t have fingernail clippers? I search through the bathroom again. Everything hurts. I even used the towels and rugs as a makeshift bed, but the floor was cold andunforgiving. My head throbs, too. The only thing that kept me going was hearing Axel stomp down the hallway and slam the door.

I pissed him off. Finally. It makes a buzz run under my skin.

Finally, I find a pair of nail clippers buried under hair clippers.

I kissed Gage.

Fuck. My hands shake as I try to flip the clip around on the clippers with my bad hand. It’s harder than I expected.

I kissed the man I swore to hate, and I can still feel his lips on mine. His body against mine, all hot and hard. The way I wanted fucking more.

This is it. I’m certifiable. Men do nothing but hurt me, and here I am, fucking throwing myself at yet another one. Kissing Gage was basically waving the come-hurt-me-I’m-available white flag. My hands shake as I try to get the clippers angled right to clip through the thick acrylic nails on my left hand. Only, without the use of my thumb, it’s hard as hell. I try to position them on my thigh and press with the meat of my hand, which works until the clippers slip, sending pain through my finger and clattering to the floor.