Page 36

I stumble closer and stop by his long, muscular legs.

Which just so happens to be a mere three feet from Tommy.

That bastard . “I hope you never know the pain I feel when I think of what I’ve lost. Because it’s unbearable.

For the boy I left behind and the man I never got to know.

I loved you, Chris, and the world was simply too cruel, too nasty and mean and harsh for what it did to us. ”

Finally, I turn to Tommy and almost lose it all. My stomach. My nerves. My grip on stand-up-ness. But one thing I do lose… my ability to speak.

“That’s it?” he growls. “You have sweeping declarations for them, memories, apologies, secrets, and heart fucking wrenching poetry. But you’ve got nothing for me?”

If I open my mouth, I’ll cry.

If I even try, I’ll fall to the floor, and, most terrifying of all, I probably won’t get up again.

“Say something!”

I startle and drown under the torrential tears flowing over my cheeks.

“Dammit, Lana!” He snatches up their communal bottle of tequila— not sure how they got that —and glares into my eyes.

“You’re good at this, ya know? You were born with the natural fucking talent of hurting me.

” Turning on his heels, he stalks across the gravel yard littered with cigarette butts and slams the back gate open, then he disappears into the darkness, the bottle tipped up and the liquid glug-glug-glugging into his mouth.

I start forward.

“Alana.” Oliver grabs my arm. “No.”

“Don’t tell me no!” I yank free of his grip and stride toward the gate. “Don’t ever tell me not to go to him. You don’t get to make that choice.”

“You’re gonna kill each other! And the sad reality is, I’m not even joking. This isn’t safe.”

“Let her go,” Chris grumbles. Always my hero. Always with half of my heart. “They’re fine.”

I shove the gate open and step into the alleyway out back, where deliveries come during the day, not only for the bar but the bakery a few doors down and the newsagents after that. There are no streetlights out here, and the moon isn’t bright enough to illuminate my path more than five feet ahead.

Fresh, cool air hits my face, almost as nice as the cold lake water, but tequila still rushes through my veins like tiny ants marching to battle.

It makes my blood run hotter, and my stomach rolls nauseatingly.

My heart pounds faster every minute I wander alone.

Darkness is my old enemy, haunting my memories and reminding me what happens to girls when no one is around to save her.

Nerves strip away a layer of my tequila bravery, but when I come to the end of the block and consider strolling onto the road, a dangerous arm swings around, a broad, firm hand sliding into my hair and holding on.

But there’s no time for panic. No room for fear.

Because I smell him, even before he pulls me into the shadows beneath the awning of the mechanic next door. I cry for him, even as he crushes me against his chest.

“ Had , Alana? Or have ?” He drags me to the tips of my toes and takes my lips with his, swallowing my cry of desperation and sliding his tongue over mine.

I couldn’t fight him even if I wanted to. And dammit, I don’t want to.

Instead, I drape my arms over his shoulders and float away on the magic of what we can pretend to be.

Alcohol means we get to pretend.

“Answer me.” He bites my lip, snarling when the sound that escapes my throat is one of pleasure and not pain. “Had or have?”

“Have.” I squeeze my arms and climb his broad frame, because we’re in the dark, and this isn’t real. It’s make-believe, the way I’ve fantasized for years. “I don’t get to turn it off.”

He drops the bottle so it lands on the ground with a thud and, miraculously, doesn’t break. Then he scoops me up and turns with fury beating in his veins, slamming me against the brick wall and stealing the oxygen from my lungs.

When that’s not enough, he pulls away and slams me a second time. Because he’s still so angry. So hurt and devastated and furious.

“You’re wet for me.” He bruises my thighs and grinds his rock-hard cock against my core.

He’s not asking. Not even guessing. He’s making a statement, so we both know he knows.

He slips his fingers beneath my panties and finds me exactly how he knew he would.

Dripping wet and desperate. “You still want me, don’t you, Lana?

Your body still wants mine, even if your mind did some seriously stupid shit. ”

“Yes.” I drop my head back and whimper when he latches on to my neck. He nibbles and laves. Bites until it stings, then soothes with his tongue until I groan.

“Alana—”

“Yes, my body still wants your body. Always. It never stopped.”

“You fuck your husband and think of me?” He slides two thick fingers inside my pussy, oblivious to the fact that he’s the first to do so in ten years.

Unaware that pain radiates through my core and leaves me breathless.

“You ever wake up in the middle of the night hurting for me? Throbbing because you remembered what we had, knowing no one else could fuck you the way I could?”

I ride his hand, whimpering as my first release washes into his palm and drips along his wrist.

“How many times did you lie in that bed in New York and wish for me?”

“So many.” I cinch my legs tight and cry out when he tosses me over the ledge, once, twice, three times so easily. “So many times.”

“If I can’t have your heart, then I’ll take your cunt and destroy us both.” He pumps his fingers, effortlessly drawing me to another peak and growling when I fall apart in his arms. “I’d rather die wrapped in you than live any other way.”

“Shhh.” I clap my hand over his mouth to quieten his words, hissing when he bites. And though he tears his fingers free of my underwear, stealing my pleasure and risking my cry of sorrow, I know him . Even after all this time, I know what he needs.

He’s the boy who would sleep with his hand resting between my breasts and his cock nestled inside my pussy.

He chose touching me over eating, more times than I can count.

Over breathing, if he thought those were his only options.

He chose me, no matter what else he had to give up.

So he reaches between us and unsnaps the button of his jeans, just like I knew he would, then he shoves his zipper down and frees his cock… just like I knew he would.

Like I hoped he would.

“Yes?” He slides the tip along my wet heat, collecting my own natural lubrication. “Alana? Yes?”

“Yes.” I tug him closer and take his lips with mine, swallowing his snarl and crying when his thick head nestles at my opening.

I suckle on his tongue, letting the taste of tequila spur me on, and the farce of this is all make-believe carry me through what I know I’ll regret tomorrow.

Then I choke on fresh pain when he surges forward, filling me with his cock and pinning me to the wall at my back.

Because maybe we’ve done this before. And obviously, I’m no longer a virgin. But he was a boy back then, and a man now, and I’m so long out of practice, it’s like I’m brand new all over again.

He leaves me no room to adjust. No time to catch my breath.

He pulls back and pistons forward, wrecking me with his savagery and holding me captive with his bruising hands.

He kisses me with the desperation of a starving man, and because I’m just as needy as he is, I forget my pain and focus on pleasure instead.

I ride him gratefully, squeezing my arms tighter and returning his biting kiss with one of my own.

I latch on to his lip, panting when he tears my thighs apart. He stretches me the way he always enjoyed, spreading my ass cheeks and playing with that opening, too.

“Still my girl, aren’t you, Lana?” He slips a single digit into my ass.

“Oh, God!” I explode, heaving in search of fresh air and clinging to his powerful form. I close my eyes, though the action is hardly necessary. It’s practically pitch black out here. “Tommy.”

“Haven’t heard you say my name like that in so long.

” He bites my neck and slams me backward, ensuring I’ll have a bruise by tomorrow.

But then he pulls out again, robbing me of completion and earning my cry of despair.

He sets me on my feet and steadies me when my knees tremble.

Then he grabs the back of my neck and turns me, shoving me forward and crushing my chest against the rough brick exterior.

“Heels were a good choice.” He whips my dress up, exposing my panties, but only long enough to tear them clean off my body and make them disappear in one of his pockets.

Then he fills me again, dragging me back with a hand around my throat that cuts off my air.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He rocks his hips with infuriatingly measured strokes.

In. Out. Slowing his pace without a single care for how I desperately need more. Faster. Harder.

“I planned to have you again.” He loosens his grip on my throat, allowing me to suck a long line of oxygen into my lungs. “Married or not. I wouldn’t have even cared if he was in the next fuckin’ room. I was gonna have you again.”

“Tommy—”

He squeezes again, destroying my ability to breathe and vibrating from the power he possesses. The demand he controls. The understanding that I won’t stop him from playing with me. It’s always been like this for us .

“I didn’t know our last time was our last time,” he snarls.

“So I waited. And planned. I didn’t know when, or where, and fuck, I didn’t know how I’d make it happen.

The fear you’d say no left me paralyzed with indecision for so fucking long.

But I knew we weren’t done.” He leans back and spits, the warm splash of saliva hitting my lower back.

Then he slides his fingers through the moisture and draws it down to my asshole.

“I was spiraling out of control, wanting and waiting. Needing, but not getting. I was readying to slide into my truck and drive all the way to you, because ten years is a long fucking time to be underwater. But then you came back. Broke my heart and mended it in one.”

Tommy—”

“Lie to me, Alana.” He slips his thumb into my ass and drags my face around, biting my bottom lip and sucking my soul right up through my throat. “Lie and say you love me still.”

Devastating tears make his eyes glitter. But he doesn’t let them fall.

He would never.

“I’m begging you.” He quickens his hips. Faster. Frantic. “You have the power to make me live or die. You are love. So for tonight, for right now, lie. Let me live.”

“I love you.” The air stops in my lungs, and my heart aches, weeping for what was lost. But my body still reacts to what he can do to me. I explode around his cock, fluttering electricity pulsing in my veins that only grows more powerful when he erupts, too.

He crushes me under his powerful touch, bruising my flesh and branding me on the inside. And when that’s not enough, he pulls back and slams forward again, claiming my body with the brutality of a man deranged.

“Say it again. Lie again.”

“I love you.”