Page 32 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

I got her out of the car and into the house, but she halted by the stairs before I could ask her if she needed me to carry her up.

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

Maybe Cordelia was more observant than I gave her credit for. I didn’t reply. I didn’t want to tell her and make her night even worse.

“Two weeks?” she asked.

I didn’t reply.

“One week?”

I didn’t reply.

“I see.”

“It’s nothing personal, Cordelia,” I said as if that could somehow fix anything.

“I need to sit.” She glanced around, her hands hovering in the air but finding nothing but me within immediate reach. “Not because of this. I’m not mad at you. I just need to sit down.”

“Here.” I grasped one of her hands, her fingers icy and slim in my palm. Deciding against carrying her upstairs, I slung my other arm around her middle and led her into the living room instead.

“Fuck,” she moaned as I lowered her onto the sofa.

I choked on my laugh and turned my face into my shoulder. She still caught it.

“What?” She raised her brows at me but didn’t let go of my hand, keeping me bent over the sofa for her.

“You don’t curse.”

“I’m in fucking pain and you’re fucking leaving. Fuck is the only appropriate word.” Her grip on my hand tightened withevery word, the anger and frustration tinting her cheeks bright red. Her fingertips dug into my skin, and her eyes stayed on mine unrelenting. The unspoken challenge filled the air between us. She was waiting for me to lie, to placate her, to tell her everything was going to be just peachy.

My nerves crackled. Each fiber of my body was trained to respond to confrontation with physical violence.

Automatically, my gaze swept over her for the third time that night to find a weakness. It caught on the spot where her sweater had dropped off her shoulder again, where her chest was rising fast against the thin lace edge of her pink bra.

My instincts took over, my body springing into action, my hand tightening around her fingers, my weight launching forward. Before I could contemplate my actions, my mouth was on hers. And when she let out a surprised whimper that burrowed down to the base of my spine, every last thought escaped me.

Cordelia opened up for me without hesitation when my tongue swept her bottom lip. God, she tasted like sugar and cream and I couldn’t get enough of it. My kiss turned hungry. I leaned into her, a knee between hers, and had to steady myself on the back of the sofa to stop from toppling over.

She hooked her free hand into my collar, pulling at me, whimpering every chance she had to take a breath.

Those small sounds did something to me. My pulse spiked at every single one of them, and the second my mouth closed over hers again, I kissed her with enough force to bruise those perfect pink lips.

On the next whimper, I’d leave her mouth, I’d kiss my way down her neck to that small triangle of lace.

Except, when I came up for air, lungs desperate for reprieve, Cordelia’s hand around my collar tightened. She pushed meback, and instead of a needy little whimper, I got a breathy“I can’t.”

“Shit,” I hissed as my peripheral vision cleared, and suddenly there was more to the world than Cordelia’s lips.

“Oh fudge.” She grimaced and pressed her hand over her stomach. “Cramp.”

“Right.” I fell back, crouching down in front of the sofa. I had to be seriously fucked-up to jump her when she’d been getting treated at the hospital half an hour ago. “Sorry.”

“It’s a burst ovarian cyst. It’ll take a little while to heal,” she said apologetically, as if I was about to get mad at her for not getting any action tonight. That was the least of my concerns.

“Isn’t that serious? Shouldn’t you have stayed in the hospital?”

“It looks okay. If I get worse, develop a fever or anything over the next few days, I’ll need surgery. For now, I just have to get through this pain.” She adjusted her position, grimacing, and I reached over her lap to help rearrange one of the pillows.